The Story Behind Never Enough Flowers the Album

Updated: Nov 11

A lot can happen in just three years.

When I look back on the first songs I wrote for this project, it doesn't even feel like the same person between then and now. I used to be shy about my feelings, afraid to use my voice above anything but a whisper. Afraid to be too loud, too brash, too proud, even too happy.

Then Diving Bell happened.

I wrote that song in May 2017, after a pivotal conversation with my best friend. She and I had been talking about our views on growing old. Realizing that most people are not too bad or too good, but we're just people. Humans wrapped up in our own insecurities and just trying to make our way in the world, with a lot we hide below the surface but which affects us on so many levels.

At that time, I was in my early 30s. I still had no idea who I really was. I had been trying for a child for a long time, but every month, I got my period instead of a baby. So I knew that being a mother wouldn't be in the cards for me. A traumatic experience that I wouldn't wish on anyone, and one that I wish more people would acknowledge.

I also knew that I was not completely straight, but I wasn't sure of the words for my feelings.

I had a part-time job as a French teacher, but I wasn't sure that would be a forever job.

I suffered from depression, but wouldn't be taking any meds for it until later.

In short, I was drifting.

So it was in this gray, uncertain environment that Diving Bell crashed on my shore and changed me. The melody demanded something more dynamic, even theatrical, than I had ever done before with my voice. Then the words. Those words poured out of me, pretty much fully formed.

The first time I sang the song all the way through, me at the Yamaha keyboard, alone in my house, I knew it was a more different song than what had come before. I just wasn't sure how until much later.

I sang it for a local songwriter festival audition either later that year or a year later (I can't quite remember now!). I was one of only three women, out of a total of fifteen candidates, to perform that night for a chance to play at this festival next month. I knew I wasn't going to get picked. Not when everyone else is playing country music and you're the ethereal one in the corner with the mermaid voice and piano skills.

But I decided to get out there and sing Diving Bell like it would be the last song I ever sang.

The confidence in singing that song for an audience who mostly didn't care for my style was unreal. I belted. I whispered into the mic. I cried. I cried as I sang that song, letting it all out, living every word. I found in my ocean everything I was and I let it out on the stage that night for the world to hear and see.

Ever since that performance, I haven't been the same. I realized that wow, I can be confident. I can just be myself.

It took a long time to get to where I had ten other songs that even remotely matched that emotional energy that came out of me when I first wrote Diving Bell. It would take another three years and many more life events.

Like moving to a new state to be with someone, only to have them break up with me shortly after I moved to their area.

I divorced.

I came out.