I’ll be the first person to tell you that I’m not good at letting go. I spend an embarrassing amount of time looking through old photos, and my notes app is full of unsent letters to people who aren’t in my life anymore. As much as I love meeting new people, a part of my heart has always held on tightly to the ones I used to know—way too tightly.
When I first heard “Now That We Don’t Talk”, one of Taylor Swift’s “1989” vault tracks, it was not the anthem it has become for me. In fact, the song’s message didn’t sit right with me at all. Leading up to that point, I had spent months grieving past connections, obsessing over what I could have done differently and creating elaborate plots in my head to get certain people and relationships back into my life. But as I listened to the song on a loop, I couldn’t help but wonder—was that even what I wanted?
In “Now That We Don’t Talk,” Taylor Swift doesn’t hide her grief about relationships ending. With lines like, “I miss the old ways,” and, “I pay the price of what I lost,” she speaks to the pain of letting go of someone you really care about. She admits that you can yearn for the comfort of the past you had with someone and that you can mourn the loss of your place in their future. But through all of it, the ultimate message of the song is that you are better off without them.
There’s a poem by Brian A. Chalker that says how, “people come into our lives for a season, for a reason or for a lifetime.” We only get hurt by putting someone in the wrong category. And looking back on the past year of my life, I agree with this sentiment with my whole heart.
With the help of this song, some amazing confidantes and a whole lot of journaling, I have finally begun to reframe my mindset on letting go. It hasn’t been easy, but every time I feel myself slipping into old patterns, I remind myself that I am grateful for every person who walked out of my life. The memories that I shared with them were real, and even sometimes beautiful, from laughing to the early hours of the morning to sharing our deepest fears on long walks. But ultimately, they are just that: memories. In the moments when they hit me like a tidal wave, I repeat these words: that was then, and this is now.
And yet, these people of my past—the ones I once would have scaled mountains to win back—will always be a part of who I am. I will never forget the lessons they taught me or the love I once had for them. But I know now that I can’t hold space for those that have already gone. I have realized that I want to choose people who choose me right back.
It’s not always simple to admit, but I can see the light now. I have bounced back from losses I swore would kill me, and I am more myself than I’ve ever been. So yes, my life doesn’t look the way I once hoped it would. Yes, that fact is still difficult to bear on occasion. But I’m coming to realize that sometimes, letting go means making room for something even more wonderful. And maybe, just maybe, I really am better off—now that we don’t talk.