demos from a past life
new-old music, processing grief, moving forward
I have been feeling as though a long cycle in my life is finally coming to an end. For the last several weeks, my mind has been tingling with the glimpses of a new beginning. I have always been a generally private person, but part of this new beginning is the urge to share more of myself with the world. Writing and sharing not only when my thoughts feel polished, but to put them to you, the reader, whoever you are, in the name of connection and vulnerability. In the current state of things, both the outer world we all live in together and my own internal world, I have been yearning for community, and maybe you are, too.
People who know me know that I wrote and produced my first album last year and released it in the fall, exactly six months ago to the day I am publishing this—a great and satisfying achievement as a lifelong musician. Those who have listened to that album also know that its themes are full of grief.
Last year, 2025, was one of the hardest years of my life. I turned my life upside-down the year before, in 2024, by leaving both a long-term relationship and a long-term job, and transplanting myself to a new area. Maybe I should have expected it to be difficult to handle so many changes at once, but I have always been excited by new experiences and felt it was a much-needed opportunity to reinvent myself while also reconnecting to life passions I had let fall by the wayside.
Almost immediately, I encountered resistance from the new life I was trying to pursue. It became clear very quickly that my new job was not going to work out, in an unforgiving way that felt out of my control. All of a sudden, I was scrambling to find new employment, to afford my housing, to make ends meet (and at times, they did not meet). I sought out new relationships, hoping for connection, but instead they brought up intense emotions from old wounds and patterns I had been stuck in that no longer served me, if they ever did. I felt backed into a corner in all areas of life. I made poor decisions with poor judgment. I questioned whether my judgment had ever been good if it had led me here.
One of the most difficult experiences of last year was when someone I considered a best friend for ten years exited my life with no explanation. It felt like a sour cherry on top of my suddenly crumbling life. I had no time to process or to collect myself, only waves of grief that swallowed me and made it difficult to manage daily life. It was a dark time for me. I had other amazing friends during that time who cared for & rooted for me, but I do believe that there is only a certain amount of darkness others can follow you into. There are moments in life when you realize that you are truly the only person who can get yourself out whatever hole you’ve found yourself in. Friends and family can cheer from the sidelines, but it is ultimately you who is running the race.
Music was my way of beginning to climb out of the hole. Most of the songs on my album, arrival, were written out of necessity rather than pure creative desire or inspiration. Writing songs felt like the only way to shake the emotions from my body and make sense of what was happening to me. When I listen back now, they each feel like tokens containing a visceral emotion from that time.
By the time I had finished my album, many more changes had happened – I left another job which had started out promising, but in the end was not a good fit. I started another new job as a traveling forest technician, which gave me freedom and room to breathe, two things I hadn’t experienced in a long time and desperately needed. I ended my lease and moved full-time into my truck.
I traveled around the country for work, visiting places I had never been before—Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, Utah, Texas, Louisiana, Arkansas. I met a man who is the love of my life, who has road-tripped and worked alongside me. I put careful energy towards deepening a new friendship with someone I now consider to be an indispensable part of my life.
In November, when I released the album, I felt a huge catharsis as though I had also released everything from that chapter of my life, which seemed to be transforming into something new and positive.
Yet the slowness and stillness of this past winter opened the flood gates of my internal world. All of the emotional processing I had been unable to confront while in the survival state of making it through the year came crashing towards me. In addition, no one tells you that breaking free of patterns is equally painful as it is joyful. Knowing how to receive good things and good people in your life after years of self-sabotage and people-pleasing is incredibly challenging and triggering. It’s like facing the ugliest, shittiest parts of yourself in a boss fight between you and the things you hoped and prayed for, trying to knock them out of your way once and for all. I admit that this has been a huge struggle for me over the last few months.
It’s one thing to wish for something but another to have it. To welcome it without sabotage. To see it not only as what you wanted, but you as what it wanted. Removing yourself as the main character. Holding yourself to the same standard and taking your share of responsibility—no more, no less. It’s a hard thing to do. We think we know what we want, or that having what we want will make everything better or easier. Though this is in part true, in reality, getting—and keeping—what we want demands a lot of us.
Now, once again, I find myself in a place where I am realizing I cannot stay any longer. It feels painful to know that it’s time to make another shift in my life after doing it again and again over the past year. I worry about my own reputation, I worry about losing friends and acquaintances, I worry about disappointing my boss and coworkers, I worry about arriving to another new place where things are uncertain, I worry about opening my heart up again to new friends and connections. Yet as all of these worries buzz around me, I know what I need to do despite it all. Yes, it’s scary to face the fact that disappointment and judgment from others in reaction to your decisions is an inevitable part of life—but it’s even scarier to let the fear of what other people think of you dictate how you move forward.
At the same time, I know that this entire process, despite its messiness and imperfections, has delivered me to a place where the image of my dream life is closer and clearer than it ever has been. This time, it really does feel like the end of this long chapter and not just a fake-out. To truly shake off the dust and move on, there is one more thing I want (need) to release.
demos from a past life
Over the years, I’ve written many songs that never saw the light of day. Three of these were contenders for my album, arrival, but ultimately didn’t make the cut. They are vulnerable tracks that are incredibly tender and dear to me. I’ve been sitting on them for ages, debating whether or not I should put them out for you all to hear.
On this six month anniversary of my album release, I’ve decided to share them. They are raw, unfinished, with some awkwardness and imperfections in the recordings and very little mixing or editing. I had many ideas for parts I would add to them and edits I would make, but have never gotten around to it. At this point, I don’t think I was ever meant to. They are vulnerable—in keeping with the theme of my new beginning.
demos from a past life consists of three demos, all of which were written during various chapters of my life that I am no longer in. For now, they’re available to stream only on Bandcamp. You can listen for free, or purchase them for any amount if you’d like to show support for my work. I’m leaving this last little bit of myself behind as I move on to new things—and new music. I hope you enjoy them and I hope to continue sharing more of myself this year with you, the reader, whoever you are.