Going Through the Archives

I’ve been going through old music lately.

Albums I was part of.
Recordings I forgot existed.
Entire periods of my life I don’t always revisit.

Some of it?
Yeah… cringe.

But also—very real.
And a little surreal.

The Part I Don’t Talk About

I was talking to my husband about my “music background” and realized something…

I don’t talk about that era much.

Not because it didn’t matter—
but because it did.

A lot.

A lot of that art came from a heavy place.
A quiet place.

The kind where you’re feeling everything…
but saying very little.

There was a whole stretch of my life I packed away without really acknowledging it.
Not intentionally—just… quietly.

The people in my life back then knew.
They saw it. They were part of it.

But anyone who came into my life after?
I never really brought them back there.

Not even my husband—
until dinner tonight.

And honestly… I didn’t think that was possible.

But I’ve been peeling back layers lately.
Slowly.

Like an onion you didn’t realize still had more underneath.

The Life I Was Building

I interned with a label.
Managed a handful of artists for another.

For a while, I really thought music was going to be it.

I just didn’t know if I’d land on the business side…
or the artistry side.

I leaned more business than artist.

But I was in it.

I was also in a band—five guys and me, the only girl.

You learn a lot in that environment.

Like… always carry toilet seat covers if you’re stopping at a truck stop. 🤦🏻‍♀️
Or what it means to travel with a “chaperone.”

I was in a few different bands, actually.
Did some recordings.
Landed on a couple of albums and compilations.

I still have them somewhere—
probably in a box in the spare bedroom.

When the Past Finds You

During their last visit, my mom brought me one of our old promo packs.

Black-and-white headshot.
Band bio.
Management info.

The whole thing.

I laughed when I saw it.
Not out of embarrassment—just… disbelief.

Like, that was real.

And then last week—
someone reached out to me on LinkedIn.

The message read:
“Laura Leyva from BOMFOG?”

I had to double take.

Now that was surreal.

Where It All Went

I wasn’t always good at expressing what I felt out loud.

So I didn’t.

I kept it in.
Pushed it down.
Carried it longer than I should have.

I made things harder on myself that way.

But music?
Writing?
Playing?

That’s where it came out.

Not polished.
Not pretty.

But honest.

Songs as Markers

Those songs weren’t just songs.

They were how I processed.
How I made sense of things I didn’t have language for yet.

At the time, it felt like release.

Now?
They feel like markers.

Each one tied to a moment.
A version of me.
A weight I was carrying at the time.

The Version I Shelved

When life shifted, I didn’t make some big, dramatic decision to stop creating.

I just… did.

Quietly.

I shelved that version of me—
the one who created from that place.

But I didn’t leave music behind.

I just experienced it differently.

I started processing through other people’s songs
instead of my own.

And maybe that’s why my taste is everywhere—

because I’ve used music
to feel everything
I didn’t always say.

The Soundtrack of a Life

Going back through it now is nostalgic.

But it’s more than that.

It’s perspective.

Because almost every significant moment in my life
has a song attached to it.

A lyric.
A melody.
A feeling I can still step back into
if I let it play long enough.

Where I Am Now

And here’s the part that surprised me…

I don’t feel regret.

I feel gratitude.

For the version of me that kept going.
For the version that created anyway.
For the version that didn’t always have the words—
but found another way to speak.

The good.
The hard.
The parts I don’t always revisit.

All of it led here.

And for the first time in a while…

I’m not just remembering it.

I’m appreciating it.

All of it.