Starting Again, Even When You’re Tired of Starting Again

There are times you know you’ve hit a dead end, and the only way forward is to restart.

It’s like writing a song. You’ve got the first verse down, the chorus feels good… but then you hit the bridge and stall. You lose that spark. You get stuck. Eventually, you crumple the paper and start again. (Or delete the voice memo for us modern people)

That’s where I am now — only not with a song, but with my life.

That’s where I’m at now—not with a song, but with my health and my life.

I’ve lost count of how many “restarts” I’ve had in the last five years.
Every step forward has been followed by a collapse.

Five steps forward. Ten back.

Dropping out of uni.
Panic attacks.
Breakdowns.
Suicidal thoughts.
Two seizures.

Sometimes it felt like Harry, Ron, and Hermione chasing horcruxes — every time I got close, something threatened to

If I zoom out, my life looks like a tunnel: on one end, a patronus shining a light — peace, reassurance, calm. On the other, a dementor chasing me, whispering doubts, insecurities, fears.

Like walking down a long corridor and reaching for the door, only to find it no longer there.
The closer I moved, the further it drifted.
The light at the end dimmed, the air grew heavier, and suddenly I was aware of the footsteps behind me.

So I stop. I close my eyes. And I ask myself: can I stop the dementor from sucking all the hope out of me? Can I fight it with belief?

Blood Pressure

This year began with me trying to sell my music school. On January 11th, I had my second seizure in two months. February was a blur of tests, doctors, and waiting rooms.

Every potential buyer strung me along — one after another. They told me how “perfect” the school was, how much they wanted it… before backing out at the last second.

When I finally found someone who signed the contract, she did everything possible to sabotage the deal. For a while I thought I’d have to keep the school running forever, or maybe send her to Azkaban (sorry—last Potter reference, I promise)..

In the end, no one went to Azkaban. No blood vessels burst. But I was not okay.

I had another breakdown. I stopped breathing in my sleep. My girlfriend was terrified I’d have another seizure. I thought I was just fighting people in my dreams.

The light was gone. The tunnel was pure black—blacker than the lacquer on a new piano.

And now here we are in October.

Restarting yet again.

If you’re reading this, I suspect you know the feeling. You’ve had to rebuild something — your career, your music, or maybe your entire life.

So here’s what I want you to know: rebuilding doesn’t have to mean starting from zero. It means giving yourself the chance to find what’s been lost, and maybe even discover something new.

For me, it’s not about self-love clichés or gratitude lists. (Those don’t touch the pain of suicidal thoughts.) It’s about small steps toward belief. Confidence. Enough stability to hold myself steady.

I don’t expect to ever be 100% happy again. That’s unrealistic. But 75%? Even 80%? That’s possible. And if I can reach that, I can keep moving. I can smile again.

It’s not so boring after all.

Here’s what my life looks like right now heading into October.

I wake at 7:30 or 8am most mornings. For the first time in six years, I’m averaging seven hours of sleep. That alone feels miraculous.

I’ll make my morning coffee and by 9am, I’m logged into my part-time job in law enforcement. It’s simple work, but it matters, one wrong number could mean the difference between a normal client and a potential drug dealer…so I have to keep my eyes open!

At 1pm, I run. Three to five kilometres. Sometimes basketball afterwards, chasing the sunset as the court glows in blue and orange light. Then lunch. Then back to work until 6pm.

Between jobs, I practice guitar, record short videos, or write these newsletters. I open up my journal and write honestly.

Weekends are slower: TV with my girlfriend. Tennis with friends. Cooking without burning the kitchen down. Watching history docs on YouTube.

None of it sounds glamorous. But it slows me down. It keeps my mind from turning against me.

Because for years, my mind was the enemy. It told me I was a disappointment. That if I wasn’t moving forward every day, I was wasting my life. That failure confirmed everyone’s worst suspicions about me.

Now, those voices are just a little quieter. 99% of what they said was never true.

My girlfriend, my family, my friends — they remind me that what matters most isn’t “success.” It’s that I’m finally taking care of myself. Seeking help. Going to therapy. Learning to sit still without shame.

And yes — learning to love sitting on couch.

Singing a new song…by playing old songs.

I’m doing it my way.

Not chasing trends. Not comparing myself to guitarists who can shred at 300 bpm. I’m revisiting the songs that shaped me. Fingerstyle arrangements that made me fall in love with the guitar in the first place.

I’ve been posting videos of myself talking about these songs, and playing them simply. Just letting the melody breathe.

In the last three months, I’ve played more than I did in the past two years. I’ve uploaded more than I did in the past three. I’m writing again and I’ve tried my hand at some fiction.

(If you’re interest, here was my first go at some fiction earlier in September - https://thementalmusician.beehiiv.com/p/a-quiet-street-a-guitar-and-me)

Turns out I didn’t need another strategy, course, or template. I needed to slow down. To live like an ordinary person for a while. To find calm in predictability.

Because life is chaotic enough. And when life itself is hard, you don’t want chaos in your art.

What I want to leave you with

Maybe you’re in the middle of your own tunnel right now. Maybe you feel like the light is fading.

I can’t tell you what will work for you. But I can tell you this: nothing is ever completely lost. Confidence, hope, self-belief, they can all be rebuilt. Slowly. Patiently. Predictably.

So give yourself permission to slow down. To breathe. To rebuild.

Because that’s all I’m really doing.

And if you’re struggling, I’m here.

DM me on socials.
Email me: [email protected]
Or join the Substack chat: https://substack.com/chat/2118157

Take care of yourself,
Brian

📌 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.

And if you’re a first time visitor, please consider subscribing with or free or upgrading to a paid subscription. Either way, I appreciate your support!

📹 You can also check out my latest YouTube video where I talk about why it is so hard to understand what depression is for those don’t have it. This one is my first “vlog narration” video, so I’d love to know what you think!

🎗️And if you want something to help with your rebuild.

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.

I’ve also dropped the price down from $27 to $14.99 for the month of October.

I hope this helps you.