I finally gave up on my dream. But it's helped me start living again.

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On December 2023, I wrapped up a year-long legal battle with the music school franchise I’d joined at 23.

It started as a dream—my vision of a school where kids could learn music without pressure, where confidence and joy mattered more than exams. A place where families felt welcome and every student could be themselves.

By the time the legal fight ended, that dream had turned into something closer to a nightmare.

I was staring down the barrel of franchise fees and legal debt I couldn’t afford. By November, I was down to my last $5,000. My lawyer did everything possible to keep me out of court and reduce costs, but every revision to the settlement felt like one more weight I couldn’t carry.

When passion turned to pain.

I rebranded the school under my own name, trying to breathe life into the dream I’d started. But the truth was clear:

The passion was gone.
The belief had faded.
My confidence was shattered.

And through it all, I neglected the one thing that could have saved me: my mental health.

I had booked twelve therapy appointments in 2023. I only attended five.

The others? I either slept through them after nights spent crying over my failing dream, or stayed awake until 4 a.m., scribbling desperate plans to get myself out of the mess I was in.

I finally realised why I had pushed myself so hard. Deep down, I felt inadequate—like I had to prove to my family and friends that chasing music wasn’t a mistake.

Music was supposed to be my refuge, not my burden.

I lost sight of what I loved most.

I ignored the doubts and the panic attacks, telling myself to toughen up, to run harder, to work later. I thought resilience meant never stopping, never asking for help.

But by the end of 2023, I lost something deeper than my school—I lost belief in myself.

I felt invisible, like I no longer mattered. Not to my career. Not to my family. Maybe not to anyone.

And for the first time, I considered ending my life.

I lost control of my body and my mind.

The rebranded school survived one more year. I didn’t.

By the end of 2024, my body gave out. I had two seizures.

The first was at my GP’s.
The second was in my bedroom, with my girlfriend beside me.

I was lucky both times. Someone was there. Someone got me to the hospital.

The seizures were the last straw. My body forced me to do what my mind had refused to: stop.

The long and winding road back.

Even then, I couldn’t just walk away. For three more months, I cleared out the studio, tried to find someone—anyone—to take over the school.

Selling a barely profitable music school isn’t easy. Every day, I was torn: hold out for the money I deserved, or just get it over with and rest.

I still taught to cover medical bills. Every decision felt like walking on glass.

On the outside, I seemed fine—eating, sleeping, exercising.

Inside, I was hollow.

I couldn’t think.

I couldn’t decide.

I couldn’t move forward.

I was just… existing.

Coming to terms with what I needed to see.

Looking back at 2021–2024, my life was built on a single obsession:

• Build the school

• Save money

• Become the best teacher I could

And for a while, it looked okay from the outside. I paid rent. I ate. I went out sometimes.

But I ignored the slow erosion of my mind. Panic attacks were met with punishment: run 10km, work harder, stay up later.

I knew I was deteriorating. I just didn’t want to admit I needed help.

Somehow, I stayed on my feet. But I couldn’t smile.
I couldn’t even cry when I wanted to.

Holding onto hope.

As I write this now, I realize I’ve found something I thought I’d lost completely: a little hope.

It’s not a miracle. I’m not “all better.”

But I’m here.

Despite the seizures, the panic, the suicidal thoughts—I’m still here.

My family, who I thought didn’t believe in me, were the first to show up when I fell. My girlfriend stayed by my side. Slowly, I’ve picked up my guitar again—not for work, but for love.

I’ve kept more therapy appointments in 2025 than in the previous three years combined. I let the panic come and go, and I don’t punish myself for feeling human anymore.

I don’t think I’ll run a music school again—not for a long time.

Maybe one day, when I’m older and secure, I’ll teach for joy, not survival.

Right now, my dream is different.

I want to help other artists and creators who feel like I did—stuck, alone, on the edge of giving up. I want to remind them that their story isn’t over.

If I can be part of building a future where musicians can chase their dreams without sacrificing their health, that will mean more to me than any stage I ever imagined standing on.

For now, I’m holding onto hope.
And getting some rest.

💬 So now I want to hear from you:

What’s something that has given you hope in your darkest moments?

I’d love to hear your stories, so please don’t hesitate to reply to this newsletter.

I may not read your reply straight away, but I will star it on gmail and read it very soon!

📌 P.S. If this post resonated, would you consider sharing it with a friend?

It helps me grow this newsletter and keep it free so I can continue helping musicians build a thriving music career without sacrificing their mental health.

Thanks for reading The Mental Musician.

📹 Check out my latest Youtube video where I talk about what it feels like to have a panic attack:

🎗️And if you want more support:

I created the Burnout to Breakthrough Mental Health Journal for Musicians like you — your personal mental health companion designed to help you reflect, reset, and rebuild your creative life without falling apart in the process.

Inside, you’ll find:

✅ A 3-part strategy to rebuild your energy, reset your mindset, and redefine success
✅ A fully interactive Notion journal to help you stay grounded and focused
✅ Daily, weekly, and monthly check-ins to track your wellbeing and goals
✅ A simple system you can return to anytime you feel lost, overwhelmed, or burnt out

This journal is a reminder:
you don’t have to keep burning just to keep going.

It may even give you a little bit of hope.

And for a limited time, I’ve dropped the price down from $27 to $14.99.

This price will only run till August 24th.

Grab your journal today, start discovering your dream and finding hope again.

Click here to grab your journal today

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