My journey into the realm of professional music wasn’t your typical trajectory.

It started like most young kids, when growing up, all I wanted to do was become a rockstar. Every day after school, I’d sprint home in a canter, forgetting to say hello to my mother as she opened the door and plonk myself on the couch with my school bag still strapped to my back. I’d turn the TV on, and go straight to the ABC Kids channel where a double episode of The Wiggles aired.

My favourite song from the Wiggles was, “Play Your Guitar With Murray,” which became the anthem of those formative years, setting the stage for a musical odyssey that would define the next chapter of my life.

When I was 7 years old, my parents enrolled me into music lessons, and now I was playing my guitar with, Shariff, my guitar teacher. Every lesson was an adventure and an exploration of the world of music. Shariff had this incredible aura about him, as he was just as godly to me as Murray Wiggle was. He was the first person who helped me fall in love with music and thus began my pursuit of becoming a professional guitar player.

Not a day passed without the resonant chords of my guitar filling the air. My bedroom transformed into my fortress of solitude for me to express myself most truly. There were days when I even faked being sick, just so I could stay home and practise. This was around the same time YouTube became popular, and as if fate threw me a lucky charm, I embarked on a relentless quest to mimic my idols.

Music became an integral part of my teenage years and confirmed my desire to chase the dream of becoming a professional musician.

However, this dream of mine would come to a premature end in 2021, when one moment changed everything.

The moment everything changed

For all of my life, I had only one goal: to become a professional musician.

On my way to this dream, little did I know, my obsession was slowly chipping away at my sanity and soul. Little by little, I was losing myself, and it accumulated in the perfect storm when I suffered my first panic attack on June 6th, 2021

Leading up to that fateful day, I had not taken a single break since 2015.

Even when I was out with my family and friends, I couldn’t stop thinking about work whether it’d be practising, teaching or building my business. Every day my sleep hours would reduce from 7 hours to 6 hours, to 5 hours, and by June 2021, I was averaging 4 hours of sleep a night. My body essentially became a vessel harbouring my spiralling mind, doing its best to hold me up as I became a walking zombie.

On the morning of June 6th, 2021, I headed off to my university, en route to a fairly standard and low-key exam.

I had only slept 2 hours the night before, and I was relying on 3 cups of espresso to keep me from stumbling onto the track trains on my way to campus. I wasn’t concerned about the exam content, as the material was something I’d known all my life. All I had to do was play through three basic major scales, demonstrate a few jazz chords and in 15 minutes I’d be on my way home.

The walk from the station to campus is only 1 kilometer, yet it felt like an entire marathon on this day.

With each step, I would take a deep breath in to gather myself and muster a little bit of energy to take the next step. On a good day, I’d ignore the red lights and continue walking across the road. On this day, I stopped at every red light and fell onto my haunches, as my head got heavier and heavier.

By the time I got to the exam room, I was already 15 minutes late, but that was the least of my problems.

Like Bambi trying to walk on ice, I started slurring my words and noticed my right hand trembling ever so slightly. I could’ve sworn my heart was trying to jump out of my chest and despite the cold winter’s day, I was sweating bullets.

In front of me, I waited for my guitar teacher and the Head of Jazz and like a disappointed father and unimpressed uncle, they told me to hurry on and start the exam.

“Okay Brian, you’ve played these scales a thousand times, you got this” — I whispered to myself.

I lowered my head, closed my eyes, drew breath placed my hands on the guitar and proceeded to play the first scale. Immediately, I played the wrong note and like a cat on a hot tin roof, my fingers scurried across the fretboard. My guitar teacher raised his hand, stopped me in my tracks and sternly asked me to start again.

Once again, I lowered my head, closed my eyes, drew breath, and placed my hands on the guitar.

I plucked the first note and thankfully it was correct this time. The second note was not too bad either. But then, just as my confidence started coming back, it came to a crashing halt, as my fingers fell off my guitar and began violently shaking.

I had experienced stage fright before where I felt nervous before a performance, but this was something different.

My heart must’ve been racing at a million miles an hour. Every heartbeat felt like an earthquake inside my body.

“I think you’re having a panic attack” — I thought to myself.

Music became something else

For 20 years, my childhood dream was to become a professional musician and tour around the world.

After I finished high school, the only thing that mattered was doing everything I could to turn this dream into a reality. For every song I learnt, for every gig I performed, I was also inadvertently working myself into a ground. On June 6th 2021, this dream was shattered to pieces, as my mind and body gave up on me.

In my relentless pursuit, I completely ignored my mental health and wellbeing, to the point I lost all meaning as to why I wanted to become a professional musician.

I couldn’t find a genuine answer to all these questions, beyond the 12 notes that my guitar allows me to play. I was seriously starting to wonder whether or not my pursuit was just an empty, meaningful facade amounting to nothing. Was this chase all worth sacrificing my own mental health and well-being?

In a twist of fate, as if the universe was listening to my call, I would find my answer the very next day in a lesson with a student.

Every lesson, I start by asking my students “How was your day?” and “How is school going?” Normally I receive a one-worded, disingenuous answer but this time around, my student gave me a rather candid answer.

He told me things were not going too well, and he was seriously struggling with online school work due to the COVID lockdown. Moreover, he felt his childhood was being stripped away as he wasn’t able to go out and enjoy the things he normally would.

All of a sudden, I realised this was my opportunity to use music as a gateway to give my student a moment of joy he desperately needed.

The music ceased to be a mere arrangement of 12 notes. The music was no longer about how many different guitar techniques we could explore or expand his music theory knowledge. It became a vessel for me to show my students how, for generations, music has been a way to inspire hope, belief and a sense of calm in testing times. Instead of pushing him to practise all his exercises, we put together a playlist of songs that have unified people throughout history.

These were the top 5 songs in our playlist:

1. Here Comes the Sun by The Beatles

2. Stand by Me by Ben. E King

3. Fast Car by Tracy Chapman

4. Lean on me — Bill Withers

5. Imagine by John Lennon

All these songs shared a message of believing in a better tomorrow, even in the darkest of times. In the company of timeless melodies, my student shed his insecurities, embracing a genuine smile that had eluded him for weeks.

Music became a symbol of hope and a pathway for me to help people get through a tough time in their lives.

It became a universal language for me to give people the opportunity to express their deepest emotions and struggles, especially with depression and anxiety.

It became a unifying celebration to bring out the best in humanity and to inspire us to strive to be better every day.

It’s quite ironic that in one of my darkest moments, I found my new calling in life.

Moreover, I found the answer to my question “Why I am a musician?”

Today, I remain a musician not just to ‘play the guitar with Murray,’ but because it grants me the extraordinary opportunity to help people become better humans and to infuse hope into their lives.

Perhaps this is what it’s all about — a harmonious blend of dreams, struggles, and the unwavering belief that music, in its simplest and most complex form, can be a powerful force for good.

P.S. I hope my story and experience help you in some way shape or form. If my story resonates with you, please consider sharing this story with your fellow musicians as the more people who subscribe, the longer I can keep my newsletter free!