There Is More To Life Than Music

I'm going to admit something that will shock many musicians.

I have barely listened to any music over the last 3 years, nor have I played guitar.

Okay, that's a little melodramatic. Quite dramatic.

I should rephrase - I have barely listened to music simply to enjoy it, and other than writing material for my guitar students and showing them how to torture their fingers into playing barre chords, I can barely recall a day where I just sat down to play guitar for myself in the last 3 years.

The other day, I scrolled through my photos on my phone.

I was doing this because I needed to make some space. Apparently 512GB in today's age is still not enough.

But I was also feeling nostalgic, maybe even melancholic.

I wanted to reflect on a time where I felt like myself again.

When I didn't feel the weight of the world crushing my shoulders.

When all I had to worry about in a day was simply keeping my guitar in tune for work, and cooking a nice dinner for my girlfriend.

But what I found out was that music had become my entire identity. I couldn't escape it.

Some were drafts of Instagram reels I never posted.

Some were videos of my students practicing.

Some were promotional photos for my music school.

Some were reminders of all the admin, marketing and meetings I needed to complete in a week.

Some were lists of gear I needed to buy for my studio.

Finding a photo of a friend, family member or my girlfriend was a diamond in the rough. When I did, I could actually breathe a sigh of relief and whisper to myself, "phew... I actually have a life after all”.

The irony is, that even though music has been my lifeblood, it has quietly stolen everything else from my life.

As much as I love music and how it's given me so many opportunities, it has become a trigger for my mental health struggles.

I've relied too much on it.

Music has been all I've known for the last 10 years.

If I was doing well in music, whether teaching, performing or writing, I felt like I mattered.

But even that wasn't enough.

Even though I care deeply about teaching, my students and helping them, I've always felt inferior to other musicians. Like teaching was a consolation prize. I couldn't make it as a songwriter, so I settled for teaching.

It's been really difficult to reflect on this, and admit something I thought I never would:

“In order to start taking care of my mental health, I need to step away from music”.

In hindsight, I wish I started talking about how my mental health was severely affected by the rigors of being a professional musician much sooner.

I now know I can only look forward. Now is my chance to tell my story, open up about my struggles, and become an advocate for musicians, creators and artists around the world.

That's what this newsletter is all about.

If the last 10 years have taught me anything, it's that taking care of yourself doesn't mean you are failing as a musician. It means you are giving yourself permission to still be here tomorrow to play another note.

It also means that you aren't relying on your music as your only source of value in your life.

So I want to end today's newsletter by sharing 15 short but important mental health lessons I've picked up over the last 10 years.

Even though I wished I'd learned these earlier, I'm glad I've discovered them now, so that I can share them with you.

I will be doing my best to put these lessons to good use, not just for myself, but for you and our fellow musicians around the world.

1. Sometimes you have to stop the music to move forward. The bravest thing I ever did was admit I needed to pause to reflect on why music mattered to my soul in the first place.

2. Making money doesn't make you a sellout. It means you're taking care of your financial health, which is essential for your overall well-being.

3. Criticism is just white noise if it isn't true. I've learned to let the unhelpful comments fade into the background while keeping my ears open for the feedback that genuinely helps me grow.

4. Your biggest supporters are the ones you listen to. When depression clouded my vision, it was their voices that reminded me why I picked up a guitar in the first place.

5. Patience is a virtue. The slow burn of building something meaningful in music often feels like torture, but it's the only sustainable path.

6. Taking a moment to remember why you fell in love with music will help you get through tough times. For me, it was those late nights playing alone in my bedroom, with no audience, no expectations—just pure connection.

7. There are plenty of ways to be a musician - teaching, performing, writing, producing. I tried forcing myself into being a performer when my calling was in teaching, and it nearly broke me. Follow what you believe is the best reflection of you.

8. You don't have to hide behind a song to be vulnerable. When I finally opened up about my struggles, my students and followers didn't run away—they moved closer.

9. One day's rest does not make you weak. It means you have the common sense to take care of your mind and body.

10. Your music doesn't define who you are, but how you use music to be the most honest version of yourself.

11. You will have more bad days than good days. Accepting that has helped me find the strength to cope with the shit days, and the grace to truly soak in the beautiful ones when they come.

12. Life is a dance, not a destination. There is no single right way to be a musician or to live. You can dance through the fire or slow dance through fields of gold—both are valid paths. Both were part of my journey.

13. "Play for the art" is another way of saying you don't know what you are playing for. I used this excuse for years to avoid asking myself the hard questions about my purpose.

14. It's okay to have other interests in life. Music just happens to be one of them. The moment I allowed myself to be more than "just a musician" was the moment I started healing.

15. In the end, what matters most is if you gave it your best shot and if you can say you were proud of your efforts. Not proud of your success or recognition—proud of how you showed up each day, especially on the days when showing up felt impossible.

Dare I say it, as much as we musicians try to avoid this truth, there is more to life than music.

It doesn't undermine what we do, nor does it take away the importance of having music in this world.

It just gives you the chance to find balance in your life, so that music isn't a crutch, but your source of comfort and your way of connecting with the people in your life.

I hope these lessons help you get through your toughest days in your music journey, even if it's only temporary.

Because when the music stops—and someday it will—what remains is you. The person behind the instrument. The soul behind the songs.

Thank you for reading today's newsletter - I sincerely hope it has given you a moment of comfort and helped you realize you're not alone in your journey.

I love music just as much as the next musician, but we must remember that you're a person first, and a musician second.

If you enjoyed today's newsletter and are one of my subscribers, I'll send you a bonus newsletter later this week with an extended PDF containing more lessons I've picked up over the last 10 years.

In this PDF, there'll be prompts to help you discover what music truly means to you, and ways to balance music with every other aspect of your life.

Thanks again, and I'll talk to you soon.

In the meantime, take care of yourself. Not just for the music, but for you.

If you know a musician or friend who’s struggling, please share this newsletter with them. They might need to hear it more than you realise.

(P.S. If this newsletter resonated with you, I’d love for you to rate it—five stars, of course!)