How It All Began

I was born in Hungary and grew up near the capital city. From a young age, I felt deeply connected to words, rhythm, and emotion. I started writing poems at the age of 12, usually while listening to piano music — something about it always opened something in me. I didn’t learn to play piano, but I’ve always felt its emotional language.

After studying Tourism and Economics I moved to the UK, but life had already tested me in more ways than most people ever knew. That changed when I discovered personal development — and everything started to shift.

Because up until that point, life had already taught me resilience, but I didn’t yet understand the power of inner healing.

From a young age, I faced struggles that shaped me deeply. When I was just two years old, my father passed away. It was a time when there were no self-help books on every shelf, no motivational videos to click on, no therapists available with the right tools to support grieving families — especially not in 1980s Hungary. My mum was left to navigate heartbreak and single motherhood on her own. She did her best with what she had, but the emotional impact of that early loss stayed with both of us for a long time.

Eventually, she remarried, and I was given a kind stepdad and later, two siblings. But as a little girl with a different surname and a different past, I often felt like the odd one out — like a black sheep in a family that didn’t quite feel like mine. I felt disconnected, unsure of where I truly belonged. I carried shame around my name, my identity, and my roots — feelings that only grew heavier as the years went by.

My relationship with my mum wasn’t always easy either. We often didn’t understand each other, and for a long time, I carried a lot of unspoken hurt around that. (But now, I feel grateful to say that we’ve found our way back to each other. I no longer carry blame. I know she did what she thought was best with what she had. Without positive examples from her own childhood, she didn’t know how to do things differently — and I’ve come to see her with more compassion and understanding.) 

At school I faced lots of bullying that chipped away at my confidence even more. And then, something happened that changed everything.

When I was 14, I witnessed something no child ever should. With two of my friends, we were at the wrong place at the wrong time, and we saw something that would haunt us for years — a man taking the life of his girlfriend right in front of us, then later turning the weapon on himself. It was an act of violence we couldn’t understand, and yet we were there. I still remember the cold, quiet hours at the police station, giving statements about something far too big for our young minds to process.

I never spoke to a professional about what I saw. I just tucked it away, the way so many of us do when we don’t know how to cope. But from that moment, something in me changed. I became quieter, more closed off. I stopped speaking up. I carried the weight of unprocessed trauma through my teenage years, into my twenties, and into relationships that hurt me even further.

I found myself again and again in spaces where my voice didn’t matter. Where I was dismissed, put down, and made to feel small. But even in those darkest moments, I had one thing that never left me — writing.

Whenever I felt overwhelmed or broken, I turned to words. I wrote poems. I wrote feelings I couldn’t say out loud. And somehow, when I played piano music in the background, the lyrics flowed easier. The melody created a space where I felt safe. That’s when I first realised the healing power of music — even if I didn’t have the words for it yet.

In my adulthood, I continued struggling with boundaries. I gave away my power easily. I didn’t know how to stand up for myself, and I didn’t believe I deserved to. But one thing I always knew — from the time I was little — was that I wanted to be a mum. I wanted to do things differently than what I had seen and felt growing up. I believed that if I just followed the path I was taught — get married, buy a house, have children — that happiness would come.

So I did exactly that.

But what no one tells you is that ticking all the boxes doesn’t guarantee peace. I found myself in a marriage where I didn’t feel feel free. 

We brought two beautiful daughters into the world — my greatest blessings — but over time, I realised I was no longer myself. The marriage ended, and it wasn’t easy. Making the decision to leave our family home was one of the hardest moments of my life — but also one of the bravest. During that time, I held myself together through music. I listened to uplifting songs over and over again. Those lyrics kept me going when everything felt uncertain.

I spent nine months in a women’s refuge with my daughters. It was far from easy. The court process that followed only added more weight — a system that can be deeply damaging to women who’ve already been through enough. In the refuge, I met many women carrying their own childhood trauma — trauma that led them into unhealthy relationships, just like mine had. Some of them turned to alcohol to ease the sadness. I remember evenings when most of the mums would gather in the garden after putting their children to bed, seeking comfort in drink.

But I chose something else. I stayed inside, put my headphones on, and listened to the same songs again and again. I wrote in my gratitude journal every night. I wrote about the house I wanted to live in — one with big windows, blooming flowers and plants in the garden from January to December, in a quiet neighbourhood close to the children’s school. I wrote about the relationship I dreamed of — one built on equality, support, balance. A true partnership. A peaceful, happy family unit.

And guess what? Today, I live in that house. With my children. In that relationship. The one I imagined. I had to wait 37 years to feel truly loved — to experience acceptance without judgment, support without condition. A love where our pasts don’t define us but bring us closer. Where I no longer have to put myself last.

So many mums are used to putting the whole family first — and themselves last. But that’s not sustainable. It’s exhausting. Children thrive when their mother is in balance. When she feels safe. Seen. Supported.

And that’s one of the most powerful things I’ve learned on this journey: putting yourself first isn’t selfish. It’s healing. It’s strength. It’s the foundation of a joyful life.

Because when I started healing… my whole family started to shift too.

I didn’t know I deserved to feel happy. I didn’t know what happy even was.

It wasn’t until I found personal development that I started to unravel all of this. It gave me language for what I had buried. It showed me that healing wasn’t just possible — it was my right. And it helped me reconnect with something I had long forgotten: my inner voice, my creativity, and the quiet magic of music that had been with me all along.

The Magic Behind the Music

Every song I create begins with a feeling. Sometimes it’s a powerful realisation, a lesson I’ve learned, or a reminder I know others need to hear. The melodies come next — sometimes with my own poetry, sometimes shaped with tools that help turn my thoughts into flowing lyrics. But the heart behind each song always comes from me — from Adrienn Rozner, the woman who once felt voiceless, and now uses her voice to help others find theirs.

I don’t create for perfection. I create for connection.

The songs from Adrienn Rozner Productions are made to speak to the parts of you that often go unheard — the soft, wounded, hopeful parts. They’re a blend of truth, emotion, and intention. They’re created to move energy, open hearts, and gently guide people back to themselves.

My Relationship with Self-Development

Personal development changed everything for me. It helped me become a better mum, find my voice, understand my patterns, and break free from cycles that no longer served me. It gave me the strength to start over, to choose peace, and to believe that I could create something meaningful from my pain.

In a world that teaches us to stay quiet, small, or “safe,” personal development gave me permission to dream again. To live from the heart. To speak with truth. That’s the energy I bring into everything I create as Adrienn Rozner, and the essence of every project under Adrienn Rozner Productions.

When those teachings are paired with music, something magical happens. You don’t just learn. You transform.

Why I Do This Work

At the core of it all, I just want people to feel less alone.
I want the tired mum to hear a song and breathe easier.
I want the woman who’s lost herself to feel seen and strong again.
I want the inner child in all of us to feel safe, heard, and held.

That’s what drives Adrienn Rozner Productions forward. Every stream, every message, every lyric is part of something bigger — a movement of music that heals. And it all comes from one simple truth I’ve come to believe:

You don’t have to be perfect to be powerful.
You just have to be you.

Thank You for Being Here

Thank you for reading, for listening, for following my journey. Whether you’ve just found Adrienn Rozner Productions, or you’ve been walking this path with me for a while — I’m so grateful for your presence.

My wish is that my songs remind you of your own strength. That they become a soft place to land when life feels heavy, and a spark of inspiration when you’re ready to rise.

Wherever you are on your journey, may you always feel hope, may you always trust your light — and may the music walk beside you every step of the way.

With love always,
Adrienn Rozner 💛