Last summer, I found myself sobbing in a stadium in Dublin while 50,000 people sang about illicit affairs and teenage love triangles. I wasn’t drunk. I wasn’t high. I wasn’t even overwhelmed. I was awake.
It was the kind of collective joy that doesn’t happen often — raw, reverent, a little feral. Like church, but louder.
I’d flown across the ocean, notebook in my carry-on, heart cracked open, knowing this wasn’t just a concert. This was a reckoning. A ritual. A reclamation.
And now, this summer? It’s quieter. The tour has moved on. My sequined Karma jacket is in a storage bin. My voice has healed. But I still feel that ache. That pull. That sense of what now?
So here’s how I’m getting through the summer without the Eras Tour — and how you might, too.
1. Let the livestreams baptize you again
Watching a grainy Instagram live from Madrid with someone singing off-key in the background might not sound like a spiritual experience, but I’m here to tell you: it is.
These pixelated little portals carry something sacred — flickers of light, a girl in the nosebleeds screaming “please don’t be in love with someone else,” and that feeling like you’re still part of it.
Put one on while you clean your kitchen or cry in your car. Let the sound bleed into your bones. Remember that you were part of something bigger than yourself.
2. Map your own eras
Taylor didn’t just give us a concert. She gave us a timeline. A language. A way to name what once felt unnameable.
So make your own. Not as a cute Instagram graphic (unless you want to), but as a deeply personal map of who you’ve been and who you’re becoming.
Label your eras however you want:
- The “Saying Yes to Things I Don’t Want to Do” Era
- The “Divorcing My Own Shame” Era
- The “Softening Is Not the Same as Surrender” Era
Name them. Honor them. Let them stand.
3. Curate your own track five
Every Taylor album has a track five — the song that guts you in the most beautiful, necessary way. Think “Delicate,” “The Archer” and “So Long London.”
Pick your own. Not the one that sounds cool. The one that holds you when you’re falling apart. The one that shows you a reflection you weren’t ready to see until now.
My current one? “You’re On Your Own, Kid.” Not because it’s sad, but because it’s true. And because there’s something so holy about staying anyway.
4. Gather your people — even if it’s just two
There is something underrated about screaming lyrics with people who know your whole story. Not the social media version. The real one.
So whether it’s a road trip, a living room dance party or a spontaneous walk where you break down the entirety of The Tortured Poets Department like it’s a secret dossier on your soul — do it.
Your people don’t need to be many. They just need to be honest.
5. Subscribe to Sober Swifties Substack
I created Sober Swifties because I needed a place where I could bring all of it — the joy, the grief, the fan theories, the sobriety revelations, the way “Clean” still makes me cry all these years later.
Each month in Sober Swifties, we sit with one song and see what it stirs up — memories, meaning, maybe even a little mayhem. It’s not about fixing anything. It’s about listening closely, feeling fully and letting the music open something true.
Come sit with us. We’re healing here. Loudly, gently, awkwardly, beautifully.
6. Write a resignation letter to your former self
Pick an era you’re ready to leave behind. One you wore too long. One that kept you small. One that tried to save everyone but you.
Write a letter. Burn it, bury it, frame it, mail it to no one. Do whatever you need. But say goodbye. Taylor’s taught us how to do that, too.
7. Let your healing be unspectacular
Not every summer needs to be a spectacle. Not every breakthrough is photogenic. Sometimes healing looks like taking your meds. Returning that email. Making a sandwich.
Some of the most profound transformations happen in the silence between songs. In the pause. In the staying.
This summer, I’m not chasing confetti. I’m chasing presence.
Last year was magic. But magic isn’t always stadium-sized. Sometimes it’s subtle. Sometimes it’s in the way you laugh again. Or the way you don’t spiral. Or the way you let someone love you before you’re “finished.”
There’s no Eras Tour for me this summer. But I’m still in an era of becoming. Of blooming. Of unbecoming who I thought I had to be.
And that? That feels worth singing about.
CURATED CRAFTS: Taylor Swift Inspired Diamond Art Funko Pop-Ups: The Sparkliest Way to Spend a Sober Sunday
THE SOBER CURATOR PODCAST: Finding Sobriety through Pop Culture: The Power of Taylor Swift and Recovery Communities – The Sober Curator Podcast
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