Never Enough

You know that feeling at a buffet when you think, “I’m going to eat everything”?

Three dishes in, you're unbuttoning your pants, begging your stomach to make space for just one more bite.

The ham. The roast chicken. The seafood.

Oh and then dessert.

Well, I’ve felt the same way.

Not with food though. I know when I’m full.

What I didn’t know was when to stop pushing myself.

I’m not talking about practicing guitar or resting from gigs.

I’m talking about knowing when I’m enough. And whether the goals I set for myself are helping me grow or pushing me closer to burning out.

Sometimes I wonder if the targets I chase are just a ticket to flying too close to the sun. That one day, I’ll forget how to get back home.

Do you feel that way more than you’d like to admit?

It’s okay if you do.

Because I believe every artist, every creator, goes through this.

Some stay stuck for years. Some never make it out.

I’ve been reflecting on how my career unfolded over the past 10 years.

I ran a music school from 2015 to 2025. The first 7 years was solo. Just myself and 40 students a week.

The last 3? With a team of 8 tutors and 100 students a week.

Those final 3 years were… miserable to say the least.

I poured all my savings into it. I worked 12 to 16-hour days running and promoting it.

It took over 18 months to build the right team. In between: arguments, clashes, and more verbal sparring than a fencing academy.

All of this whilst my depression peaked. I started having suicidal thoughts.

And there was one question haunted me during those years: “Why am I doing this?”

Don’t get me wrong. I love teaching music to kids. It’s been my livelihood.

My greatest life lessons came from those years.

But those final years felt different. It didn’t feel like it was for me anymore.

I felt like I had something to prove.

And that is a very dangerous game to play.

When I started 2015, teaching was just a way to earn while I saved. I had dreams of touring the world as a guitarist. Like my hero Tommy Emmanuel.

Like many young musicians, I had the dream set out to tour around the world, and build a career like what my heroes like Tommy Emmanuel has built.

But I had doubters. Even those closest to me.

My closest friends and family would say to me:

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

It’s not sustainable.”

“Where will the money come from?”

It’s nothing new. These are questions ever artist gets asked when they start.

So to prove them wrong, I decided to go down the pathway of teaching, to show them I could build something out of nothing.

From 2015-2020 I taught over 500 students in Sydney.

But even then that wasn’t enough.

I still was asked

“Yeah, but you’ll need a real job eventually, right?”

“When are you getting a degree?”

And you know what, I did. I auditioned for the jazz degree at the Sydney Conservatorium in 2020.

When I got in, all of a sudden my doubters changed their tune. They congratulated me and were full of praise.

But…predictably, even then they said “Well now you have to get into teaching don’t you? Apply for a classroom teaching role?”

So I opened my own music school in 2022.

That was the best way I could compromise because the classroom setting wasn’t for me.

Now I told people “I run a music school business.”

And for the first time, nobody doubted me.

Nobody except…me

Looking back, I understand why they doubted me.

They were scared I’d burn out chasing something that might not last.

But the truth is I never doubted myself. At least early on.

I had anxiety, sure. I worried about gigs drying up. Students leaving.

But I never questioned my talent. Or my ability to work hard.

I was a good guitar player, and a damn good guitar teacher.

I knew what I was good at, I knew I could work roll up my sleeve and work as hard as anyone in any industry.

Ironically, though, when no one else questioned me anymore… I started to question myself. And that’s when my belief in myself began to fade.

And when everyone finally stopped questioning me, any belief that was left was gone.

That’s why those last 3 years were so painful for me.

I was chasing goals that weren’t mine.

I was trying to silence everyone else.

I was trying to prove I was enough.

And it left me empty.

Look, the one thing I want to be clear about is that every major decision I made was still mine. No one forced me.

But I still can’t help but wonder:

“What If I had just a few more supporters than doubters? Would I have enjoyed doing this more? Would I have not burnt out?”

Because when the only belief you have is your own, eventually, that runs dry too.

Nonetheless, when I closed the school, I made peace with my family and I was honest with them.

I told them: “I understand you were worried. But I wish you had found ways to encourage me, not just list all the ways I might fail.”

When I succeeded, they celebrated. When I struggled, they stayed quiet. There was no middle ground.

I asked them: “Why didn’t you say anything encouraging when things were tough?”

That’s a big part of why I started this newsletter.

I wanted to create the kind of support I wish I had: A place where musicians, artists even those who know musicians can come together, share stories and not feel alone.

It might not replace the support of your family or partner. But even one message from someone who gets it can be powerful.

And honestly, the biggest thing that came out of all this was me finally being honest with my family.

I never used to be. I’d shut down or argue.

Now I tell them how I feel. What I need. And that I don’t need to prove anything to them anymore.

Because now they know the truth: In 10 years, I’ve had as many failures as I’ve had wins.

But I’m still standing.

I don’t hold any grudges or resentment against them.

I know whatever happens next, they’ll be in my corner.

And more importantly I believe in myself again.

That belief is slowly returning.

And when I reach new heights, I won’t burn out.

Because this time, I know I’m enough.