Seven years ago, I buried a dream.

It didn’t die — it just went underground.

When I got divorced, I said I wanted to be a DJ or a podcaster. He said all the reasons I couldn’t. And then he became both.

For years, that burned a quiet hole in me. I didn’t even realize how deep it went until this week — when I opened Ableton for the first time, hit shuffle on Spotify, and started building playlists. Out of nowhere, the ache came back. And so did I.

Now I remember who I was before the doubt. Before the voice that told me I wasn’t enough. Before I let someone else build my dream and call it theirs.

This time, I’m not asking permission.

This time, I’m building Redrum Radio.

It’s not just a station — it’s a reclamation. It’s the sound of me coming home to myself, one beat drop at a time.

So yeah, maybe I don’t have the fancy gear or the pro license yet. But I’ve got a laptop, a mic, a heartbeat, and a history. And that’s more than enough to start broadcasting again.

Tune in.

Turn it up.

Because the revolution sounds like me.

— Roxy Redrum