When my daughter turned 12, she started shutting her bedroom door. And I don’t just mean physically—although that too. The door was closed more often. The conversations stopped coming as easily. The little everyday things she used to tell me. What she ate for lunch, who said what at school, the weird dream she had the night before. All of that started to disappear.
It all didn’t happen at once. It was slow. A little quieter every day.
And I was trying to play it cool, like, “This is normal. She’s growing up.” But honestly? I missed her. A lot. And I didn’t know how to get back in without making things worse.
Then one day, I walked past her room and heard Taylor Swift playing.
I Didn’t Get It at First
It was a song I didn’t know. I think it might’ve been Red or maybe something from Folklore. At that point, I wasn’t paying much attention to Taylor Swift. She was just kind of… there. Big star. Catchy songs. Not someone I had really listened to.
But I stopped outside the door and listened for a second. I don’t know why. Something about hearing her voice—my daughter’s voice, not Taylor’s—singing along quietly. It felt like a little crack in the wall she’d been building.
So I decided to follow that crack and see where it led.
I started listening. Googling lyrics. Downloading albums. I didn’t say anything about it right away. I just started learning the language of the thing she loved.
The First Real Breakthrough
Eventually, I surprised her with tickets to the Eras Tour. Her face when she realized what I was holding—it felt like the first time in months I’d really seen her.
That concert turned into a trip. The trip turned into long talks in the car, and laughter, and inside jokes. And all of it grew from this one little thread: her music.
Not mine. Hers.
It would’ve been easy to ignore it, or write it off as teen pop, or just keep trying to push through with more “serious” attempts to connect. But following what she already loved—without making it about me—turned out to be everything.
Turns Out, It’s Not Just Us
Later, I read a few articles—one from Psychology Today, one from Orchard Mental Health—that talked about how Taylor Swift is actually helping people’s mental health. Like, in real, measurable ways.
And it clicked.
Because it wasn’t just that Taylor’s music gave us something to talk about—it gave my daughter language. Emotional language. If you have a teenager, you know how rare that is.
Her songs don’t just say “I’m sad” or “I’m angry.” They say, This thing happened. And here’s how it broke me in this weird, specific, poetic way. Which is exactly what so many teens don’t have the words for yet. Taylor hands it to them. And suddenly they’re like, Yes. That. That’s how it feels.
That kind of recognition? That’s mental health gold.
Also… She’s Just Really Good at What She Does
I’ll admit—once I got past the initial pop gloss, I was kind of blown away.
She’s funny. She’s self-aware. She doesn’t shy away from the messy stuff. And her songs aren’t just catchy—they’re smart. They sneak up on you emotionally.
Even her newest album, The Tortured Poets Department, is chaotic in the best way. It’s dramatic, a little exhausting, a little genius. Which, honestly, feels very on-brand for teenage emotional states.
My daughter and I listened to it together the morning it came out. Not talking much. Just sitting in the same room, headphones on. And I thought: this is connection. It doesn’t always look like a conversation. Sometimes it’s just being near each other in the same feeling.
Teen Mental Health Is in Trouble. This Stuff Helps.
I won’t pretend Taylor Swift fixes everything. But the bigger picture is that teen mental health is in crisis. Anxiety, depression, isolation, it’s everywhere.
Music isn’t a cure. But it is a tool. Especially when it becomes a shared experience.
What helped us wasn’t just the music—it was what the music made possible. The concerts, yes. But also the silly car rides, the matching outfits, the bracelets, the late-night snacks in hotel rooms. That stuff is glue. And it doesn’t show up if you’re too focused on trying to “parent” your way into connection.
Sometimes you have to stop being the expert and just be there. Be curious. Be willing to care about what they care about, even if it’s not your thing.
If It’s Not Taylor, It’s Something Else
Maybe your kid doesn’t like Taylor Swift. Fine. Maybe it’s Minecraft. Or horror movies. Or weird deep-dive YouTube videos about obscure topics you don’t understand at all.
The thing itself doesn’t matter. What matters is noticing what lights them up—and showing up for it, even just a little.
Not to “fix” them. Not to manipulate them into opening up.
But to take a real interest in them.
A Few Songs That Opened the Door for Us
Here are some tracks that gave us a way to talk, or at least sit quietly together without it feeling awkward:
- You’re On Your Own, Kid — the growing-up anthem I wish I had at her age
- Nothing New (feat. Phoebe Bridgers) — hits deep if your teen’s feeling invisible
- Only the Young — still gives me chills
- The Archer — maybe the most quietly vulnerable thing she’s ever written
- Bejeweled — pure joy and sparkle, which is just as important as all the sad stuff
Just Listen
I think sometimes we overcomplicate parenting. We try so hard to get it right, say the perfect thing, and create teachable moments. But the older my daughter gets, the more I realize that connection usually starts with just being there.
Not fixing. Not forcing.
Just listening.
And for us, Taylor Swift turned out to be the thing that brought us back to each other.
I don’t know what it will be for you, but if you’re looking for the door, pay attention to the music playing behind it.
