The Song That Never Really Stopped Playing — My Story

There are moments in life that don't announce themselves as important.

They just settle into you quietly and stay forever.

Mine came at 15, and it came wrapped in music.

Picked up a guitar, taught myself how to play, and suddenly all those sounds swirling around in my head had somewhere to go. I was writing songs… And it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

But the world looked very different then. No internet to open doors, no YouTube to light the way, no smartphone to capture a melody before it slipped away.

No AI music generation tools to turn a half-formed idea into something real and alive.The kind of creative collaboration that feels almost magical today… It was unimaginable then.

And so, that 15-year-old girl with a guitar and a head full of songs slowly learned to tuck that dream somewhere quiet — not knowing that decades later, the tools to finally bring it all to life would be waiting for her.

Life moved forward. I got married. Raised a family. Built a full, beautiful life. But the guitar never completely disappeared.

It was always somewhere — in the corner of a room, in the back of a car — ready for those moments when I needed to get a melody out of my head or find words for something I couldn't quite say any other way.

Somewhere between then and now, across all those years of humming, playing, and losing myself in a melody — I finally understood.

All this time, music was quietly taking care of me — through every hard season, every private moment with a guitar, every song I wrote for nobody but myself. That was self-reflection. That was emotional release. I had been doing it my whole life. I just never knew to call it self-care.

Then everything changed. AI music tools found me.

It felt like the universe had quietly placed a key in my hand — the key to a room I had been searching for my whole life without even knowing it.

I gave every idea, every melody, every lyric somewhere to land — and now they're on major streaming platforms. My music. In the world. Finally.

I can't quite put into words what that feels like. To take something you created quietly, privately, for yourself — and discover that it has a place in the world. That it can reach people.

That your little musical masterpieces, as I like to call them, matter.

Here I am now, in my late sixties and heading joyfully toward my seventies, and I genuinely cannot imagine my world without making music and writing about it.

Not because I'm chasing a dream anymore — but because music, I now know for certain, is simply part of who I am.

It's not too late. It was never too late.