I didn’t find music later in life—I was raised inside it.

I grew up living above my family’s music store in Georgina, Ontario. Connors Music has been part of that community since 1978, and from a young age, I was surrounded by instruments, musicians, conversations, and the quiet reality of what it means to build a life in music.

Not the highlight reel—the real thing.

I’ve seen what it takes to stay.
I’ve felt what it costs to keep going.

Music, for me, has never just been about performing.

It’s been a way to process, to connect, to understand myself, and to make sense of the world around me. Over the years, that’s meant stepping into stages, writing rooms, collaborations, and community spaces that have shaped me just as much as any song ever could.

I’ve experienced the highs—the moments where everything clicks, where you feel fully seen in what you do.

And I’ve lived the in-between:
the uncertainty, the comparison, the rebuilding, the questions that don’t have quick answers.

That’s where most of this work comes from.

Not from having it all figured out—but from continuing to show up anyway.

From choosing to stay connected to the music, even when it changes form.
From learning how to hold both growth and gratitude at the same time.