"Rain came pouring down When I was drowning, that's when I could finally breathe And by morning Gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean" "Clean" is a rather jarring song that comes at the end of a very bubbly, happy-go-lucky pop album. Most listeners probably wouldn't expect such a sad and slow tune to finish out an album so full of youthful optimism and dance-worthy rhythms. How does one go from dancing one's heart out to "Shake It Off", "Bad Blood", and "Welcome to New York" to solemnly reflecting on bruised and fallen relationships in "Clean"? Taylor Swift has a masterful way of weaving the highs and lows of life into every song and album she produces. She never fails to send her fans on a heart-racing trip through the wonders of first love, the messy journey of young adulthood, and the murkiest depths of heartbreak. For all the love I have for intense, fast-paced songs like "Style", "Out of the Woods", and "Wildest Dreams", no song on 1989 will ever touch me as deeply as "Clean". "Clean" is told from the perspective of a young woman recovering from a relationship that left her reeling in sorrow. Despite the physical absence of her former lover, she still finds "traces" of him everywhere she looks-- "You're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore". The young woman describes the pain of knowing something--or someone--was fundamentally bad and wrong for you but still grappling with the lingering sadness at that someone being gone. I have found solace in the lyrics of "Clean" for several different reasons in the past few years. As a senior in high school, I struggled with an eating disorder that nearly destroyed me. I worked a job after graduating that sucked the life out of me every shift I worked, but I stayed because I felt obligated. I experienced both my first love and my first heartbreak at the end of 2023 and into the first month of this year. I have had to unravel, wrestle, and discover who I am since becoming an adult, which meant leaving behind some harmful thought patterns or beliefs. All of these experiences have been incredibly painful and life-altering. I have never been the same girl since their occurrences--but that's not always a bad thing. Early in the song, Taylor says, "The drought was the very worst, when the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst". She describes the beauty and life that this relationship once had wilting into nothing but death. She grieves the loss of a once joy-filled relationship that has turned to ashes, but later in the song, reveals that she is better off without her ex having realized he was ultimately detrimental to her health and happiness. In the same way, I came to realize that many of these things I was clinging to--starving myself, working a job that I hated, dating the wrong guy, and ascribing to unhealthy beliefs--may have felt 'good' in the moment, but later I would come to realize they are only hurting me. In choosing to leave these things behind, I have discovered life is so much brighter without their toxic influence. In this way, I have become "Clean". 1989 will forever be one of Taylor Swift's most legendary albums for its dance-worthy bops and upbeat tracklist. But my 2024, though pockmarked with happy moments where "Shake It Off" and "How You Get The Girl" are appropriate, would be most accurately defined by the masterpiece of love and loss that is "Clean".

My name is Taylor Carey. I was raised in the church my entire life. I am the second eldest daughter of ten children and grew up like most modern evangelical children do--humming VeggieTales songs under my breath while carrying my Bible into Sunday School each week. As a young girl, I enjoyed singing along to the children's worship songs, attended a private Christian elementary school, and tried my best to obey my parents and be kind to others just as my teachers advised. At the age of eight, the song "I Can Only Imagine" by MercyMe touched my heart in a way I had never before experienced. Though I was still fairly young and didn't know much about theology or doctrine or any of those other "fancy words", I knew I wanted to see Jesus and experience Him the way the song described. I wanted to know what it was like to be in His presence, to dance before Him, to spend eternity in Heaven with the One who created me and called me by name. Suddenly, all the things I'd ever learned about Jesus and His magnificent love for humanity came alive. It was as if someone had taken the words of the Bible that once went in one ear and out the other and breathed heavenly life into them. I began spending time with Jesus, reading His Word and whispering prayers from my bed at night, not because someone in authority had told me to, but because I loved Him and desired to know Him better. When I was little, I didn't feel any sense of pressure or anxiety to "get things right" so that God would love me. I simply had that precious, childlike faith that my Savior had heard me, that He loved me, and that He'd work everything out in His own timing. Yet as I grew older and experienced multiple changes--moving from the big city of Minneapolis to a small town in South Dakota, my parents pursuing full-time ministry, and starting as a new student at a public middle school--I began to notice a change in my faith. I knew in my head that God loved me. I knew I was saved by faith alone, not works. But I began to believe that my faith was no longer "good enough" for God, and that I needed to perform in order to be loved by Him. These lies from the Enemy, coupled with rapidly-developing mental illness, led to a lifelong struggle with legalism, anxiety, and a persistent feeling of inadequacy. Gone was the joy and peace I once felt whenever I flipped open my Bible, replaced with fear that coursed through my veins like electrical currents. Subconsciously, I began to pull away from God, wishing to protect myself from further pain. This constant anxiety about my faith continued until January of 2024, when God used a nightmare experience to draw me fully into His loving embrace. For the first time in ten years, I have rediscovered what it means to be loved by Christ. My anxiety has not completely vanished, but it is no longer the victor in my story--Jesus is. My deepest desire now is to minister to others, specifically youth, with the truth of Christ's love. I want to reach out and offer them the helping hand I needed at their age. With God's leadership, I hope to find a career in youth ministry and reach the hearts of the broken, needy, and hurting. I am living proof that God can use our deepest pain for His ultimate purpose and our eternal good.