I was sitting outside this morning, enjoying the perfect 72-degree breeze and the final pages of The Dialogue by St. Catherine of Siena, when something unexpected happened. A song started to play and stopped me in my tracks. “Angela” by Bob James, the theme song from the show Taxi, filled the air. And suddenly I wasn’t just reading. I was remembering.
Music has a way of holding us. Not just like a melody, but like a memory. A scent. A time capsule. It can lift us, drop us, carry us back to a chapter we forgot we bookmarked. This one took me to a time when I was younger, freer, and honestly, a little lost, but in the beautiful, messy, alive kind of way.
Why a Song Can Pull You Straight Into the Past
If you’ve ever heard a few notes and felt your whole body change, you’re not being dramatic. There’s real science behind it.
Music is processed by networks in the brain that are also involved in memory and emotion. That’s why songs can bring back autobiographical memories, the kind tied to specific moments in your life, and why those memories often show up fast and vivid, without you trying to recall anything. Researchers call these music-evoked autobiographical memories. You don’t go looking for them. They find you.
Songs from your teens and twenties tend to hit hardest. That’s the stretch of life when identity is forming and everything feels new, so those years get stored with extra emotional weight. Researchers call it the reminiscence bump. It’s why a song from decades ago can feel like it was released yesterday.
The Nights I Remember
Back then, my night routine started at 11 PM. Cheers, Taxi, The Honeymooners. Each show was a temporary escape, a slice of connection when the world felt chaotic. I remember laying on my bed captivated and pretending everything was okay. In some ways, it was. In many ways, it wasn’t.
That was a time of impulsivity, uncertainty, laughter, loneliness, and freedom all tangled up together. Listening to “Angela” again today didn’t just make me nostalgic. It made me pause. Reflect. And smile. Because even in the moments when I was drowning, I was also becoming.
Comfort Shows and Coping: What Was Really Going On
Looking back as a therapist, I understand something I couldn’t have named at the time. Those late-night shows were doing real work. Familiar, predictable, low-stakes stories can calm a stressed nervous system. You know the characters, you know the rhythm, and nothing in the show is going to surprise you or ask anything of you. For a person living in chaos, that predictability can feel like safety.
That kind of escape is a coping skill, and a normal one. It becomes a problem only when it’s the only way you ever deal with what’s hard. Pretending everything is okay for an hour is rest. Pretending for years is avoidance. The difference usually shows up in what happens after the credits roll. Do you feel a little more able to face the day, or do you feel more numb?
Who I Was Becoming
I wasn’t a therapist yet. I wasn’t a mother yet. I wasn’t who I am today. But I was living, fully, wildly, and without apology. I didn’t know it then, but those nights were shaping me. Preparing me to one day sit with others in their own chaos and say, “I see you. I hear you. You’re not alone.”
Why Nostalgia Isn’t Just Sentimental
People sometimes treat nostalgia like a weakness, or like living in the past. The research tells a more interesting story. Studies on nostalgia suggest that, for many people, it can increase feelings of connection, meaning, and a sense of continuity about who you are. Remembering where you came from can remind you how far you’ve come.
That’s what happened to me this morning. The song didn’t trap me in the past. It linked who I was then to who I am now, and that’s a healthy use of memory.
It’s also true that nostalgia is bittersweet by nature. You can ache and grin at the same time. That doesn’t mean something is wrong. It means you’re feeling a whole memory, not just the pleasant parts.
When a Song Hurts
Not every song is a gift. Music can also work as a trigger. If a song is tied to a loss, an unsafe relationship, or a period of your life you’ve been trying to put behind you, hearing it can bring back the emotions and body sensations along with the memory: a tight chest, a racing heart, a sudden wave of sadness or dread. “Tunnel of Love” and “Dust in the Wind” are two songs that do that for me.
If that’s your experience, nothing is wrong with you. Your brain stored the song and the feeling together. A few things can help in the moment:
Name what’s happening. “This is a memory. I’m safe right now.”
Ground yourself in the present. Feel your feet on the floor, notice five things you can see, slow your breathing. Somatic grounding and nervous system regulation skills are built for exactly this.
Turn it off if you need to. You’re allowed to protect your peace.
Don’t force yourself to avoid it forever. If a song keeps hijacking you, that’s worth working through with a trauma therapist, using approaches like EMDR, so the memory loses its grip.
How to Use Music and Memory for Healing
You can also use this on purpose. If you want to work with music instead of just getting ambushed by it:
Make a “who I was” playlist. Songs from different chapters of your life. Listen with curiosity, not judgment.
Journal what comes up. After a song lands hard, write down where it took you, what you felt, and what you needed back then. You may notice a younger version of you who deserves compassion.
Pair music with grounding. If you want to remember safely, start with a few slow breaths before you press play.
Share it. Tell someone the story behind the song. Memory heals better when it’s witnessed.
Notice what you’re becoming. Ask yourself the question my song asked me: Who was I then, and what was that chapter preparing me for?
Letting the Moment Be a Moment
Music holds multitudes. Good. Bad. All of it. And if you’ve ever heard a song that made your heart ache and grin at the same time, I’m sure you get it.
They don’t make shows like they used to. And sometimes, it feels like they don’t make moments like they used to either. But maybe the point isn’t to relive them. Maybe it’s just to remember. To let them remind us who we were, and how far we’ve come.
Frequently Asked Questions
Why does music bring back such strong memories? Music is processed in brain networks tied to both memory and emotion, so a song can pull up a vivid memory and the feelings that went with it, often without any effort.
Is nostalgia good or bad for mental health? For many people nostalgia is comforting and can boost connection and meaning. It can also be bittersweet, and if a memory is tied to trauma or loss, it can be painful. How you feel afterward is a good guide.
Why does a song make me emotional or anxious? Your brain stored the song along with the emotions and body sensations of that time. If the memory was stressful, the song can bring those feelings back. Grounding skills and trauma therapy can help.
Need Help Navigating Your Own Story?
Whether you’re processing the weight of your past or feeling stuck in the present, you’re not alone. At Strong Self Psychotherapy, I help high-pressure professionals, first responders, and anyone carrying a heavy emotional load reconnect with their inner strength and heal from the inside out. I offer online therapy in TX, CA, UT, ID, FL, SC, ME, VT, and OH.
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Let’s turn your struggles into power, one step, one breath, one moment at a time.
-Adrienne
This post is for educational purposes and isn’t a substitute for therapy. See my disclaimer.
