I woke up this morning with not one, but two musical squatters in my head. Neither of them pays rent, neither was invited, and neither appears anywhere on my Spotify playlist. Yet here they are, living their best lives on repeat: “Safe and Sound” and Whitney Houston’s “I Have Nothing.”

Now, I should clarify.  I’m not a Whitney Houston fan. Never have been. I’ve never even seen The Bodyguard. (I know, revoke my pop-culture card.) But there it is. That haunting refrain on loop: “Don’t walk away from meeeee…” echoing in the back of my brain like a dramatic inner soundtrack to my morning coffee.

Meanwhile, “Safe and Sound” drifts in and out like the quieter, introspective cousin. It’s the yin to Whitney’s diva yang. One croons about heartbreak, the other about reassurance. And somehow, both have decided to hold a joint concert in my cerebral cortex.

Now, the psychologist in me wants to make sense of it. Earworms are those those snippets of songs that loop in our heads without consent and they often emerge from emotional residue. They can mirror mood, trigger memory, or simply latch onto linguistic rhythm. Sometimes they’re comfort. Sometimes they’re unfinished business.

So what does it mean that I’ve got “Safe and Sound” and “I Have Nothing” stuck in my head? Am I subconsciously seeking security and connection while wrestling with boundaries and loss? Or is my brain just the world’s worst DJ, toggling between calm reassurance and full-on heartbreak ballad mode?

Maybe earworms are our psyche’s way of humming what we can’t quite articulate. A subconscious mixtape of what we’re processing, longing for, or trying to release.

Either that, or my brain just has questionable taste and a flair for melodrama.

Still, I can’t help but wonder if the songs that get stuck in our heads are messages from the subconscious, maybe I should be listening more closely. Because sometimes, the tune we can’t shake is the truth we’re trying to sing.

So, I’m asking my brain to tell me what’s going on? What’s the reassurance here?