This year forced me to slow down and focus on what was really important

In partnership with

If you’re someone who is approaching 30 years old, let me ask you did you feel like you were being numb to time? Like the days just melt into each other, and suddenly you’re swapping winter coats for summer clothes, wondering why you own so many trench coats in a country that’s basically an oven? (or maybe that’s just me because I live in Australia)

Well…I feel like this year has just become one long day.

A long day packed with a lifetime of moments, loud ones, quiet ones, the kind that stay with you forever long after they’ve passed.

Everything felt like a slow burn. Like watching a candle flicker until the very last second, and then it’s out. Time moved slowly… until suddenly it didn’t.

I guess that’s how I’m feeling.

But honestly, maybe that isn’t a bad thing.

I’m sure you’ve had people tell you how time is so precious, make the most of it, you never get time back, it’s the one currency that you can’t get back, all that philosophical stuff.

People love reminding you that “time is precious,” that you shouldn’t waste it, that it’s the one currency you never get back. And sure, it’s important that you don’t waste your time. But after being forced to slow down after a few unfortunate setbacks, this year was the first time I’ve felt okay with how things unfolded.

I don’t want to say that the way I’ve gone about things will be exactly what you need. I just hope it gives you some comfort, a sense of “hey, someone else gets it” and that’s what this newsletter has always been about.

You see, for almost a decade, I was never satisfied with anything. At first, it was my music, whether it’d be with how I practised, how I learnt and wrote songs, how I performed, and how I taught my students. I prided myself on always wanting to improve and I guess that’s not a bad thing. And whilst it’s easier to say this now as I reflect, those goals I set were always going to destroy me.

That’s what happened at the end of 2024. I’ve told the story before in previous newsletters, but here’s a quick recap:

• Two seizures in December 2024

• Lost 7kg due to stress

• Barely sleeping 2-3 hours a night

• Daily suicidal thoughts

• Fell into my deepest period of depression

The saddest part is, I accepted all of this, because it was my own doing. But the part that hurt me the most was how I treated my family and best friends.

I refused to break the image of being the “strong musician” who had everything under control.

I kept thinking if I could just be the best teacher, run the best school, write the best songs… life would magically fall into place.

So these days, this is the part where I say:

“Now I’m transformed.”
“Now I’m healed.”
“Now I’m reborn.”

Yeah… no. I wish I could tell you I’ve grown my hair out, I drink coffee out of a cup I made from a fallen tree stump, and I meditate by the black sea.

But 12 months later, I still slip into old habits. I’m not a full-time musician anymore, but sometimes I tie my worth to the videos I make or the writing I put out. And at home, I still ignore problems that need attention. I take better care of myself now, but there are days I forget to eat, or I stay up too late chasing a deadline that nobody asked me to meet.

At home, tragedy is knocking on the door as my Grandma is very sick and likely doesn’t have long.

My Dad, who is the definition of an old-school man, is hurting, but he’s also caring for her, driving her to appointments whilst still working. He’s using every bit of willpower he has left to hold everything together, so I do my best to help where I can. And while I’ll always show up for my family, it does make me forget my own stuff sometimes.

Once or twice a week, I still get thoughts of suicide. I don’t tell anyone (well, I guess I’m telling you now). I just deal with it my way: running, watching something, distracting myself until the darkness passes.

Being a musician was my whole identity for 10 years. It gave me purpose. It gave me a living. But it also helped me hide. Whenever someone asked how I was going, I’d say, “Yeah, things are good, few gigs here and there, good students, posting videos.” 

But inside I wanted to scream, “I’m not okay. I’m losing hope. And I’m tired!”

This year, that’s changed. Slowly, but genuinely.

A big part of that is because of you and all the people I’ve started having conversations about mental health with whether it’d be with people I’ve met through my newsletter, linkedin, instagram or Youtube. Despite the dangers of social media, there is still a very hopeful side to social media, where real people connect and help each other – like the way you have helped me.

I’ve had more conversations this year with other musicians about their mental health, struggles outside of music, in life with family, finances, opening up about their suicidal thoughts, or how burnt out they are as a performer, than I did in the last 10 years.

Hearing other people’s stories, through the emails I get to my newsletter like this one below, has given me so much more hope and belief, to know that I can be vulnerable, and I won’t be any less of a musician or person for it. And it warms my heart that when I share these messages to others who are struggling, they are filled with a bit of hope as well.

So that’s what I’m aiming to do, not just heading into 2026, but beyond, and hopefully as I get a bit older.

Because when it comes to being vulnerable, I’ve learnt it isn’t about doing it for a year. It isn’t something that can be done in a day. It takes time. And maybe that’s why this year felt like one long day. Maybe slowing down is what finally gave me the chance to finally be 100% honest.

And before I wrap up today, I’m going to leave you with a few clips to some organisations in Australia, that encourage all people, particularly young people to be open and vulnerable about their physical and mental health.

These two clips are of two men in their 20s (same age as me at the time of this newsletter) who speak openly about their battle with anxiety and OCD.

I believe the honesty these two young men are showing sets an example that all of us can follow. It doesn’t matter who you are, whether you’re a musician, artist, bricklayer or science teacher.

And whilst my newsletter is specifically for artists and musicians, the point is I want to remind you that you don’t have to be solely defined by your art.

If you’re struggling with something, give yourself the chance to talk about it. When you do so, people will see you for the person you really are underneath.

And just to give myself a pump up, here’s my latest video where I share the advice I believe we should be giving young artists and musicians today, to give them the best chance of chasing their music dreams and staying alive.

Thank you for taking 10 minutes to read today’s newsletter. It means a lot.

A big inspiration for today’s newsletter was because I know a lot of people are going through a period of uncertainty and I’m not just talking about musicians and artists.

So hopefully my story gives you a bit of calm, and gives you confidence that you can open up, be vulnerable, knowing that it’s going to help you.

It’s never easy, regardless of who you are. It took me a long time to learn how to do it, and I wish it didn’t take a breakdown for me to start learning.

But I have a chance to do so and so do you. It’ll take time, and we are living in an era where being vulnerable is slowly, but surely becoming less taboo particularly for musicians.

So if you ever need someone to talk to, please send me an email, reach out, I’ll do my best to reply. If I don’t reply straight away, know I’ve still read your email and I will do my best to get back to you asap.

In the meantime, take care of yourself and be well.

-Brian

P.S. If you’re a long time reader and my newsletter has helped you in your mental health/music journey, please consider upgrading your subscription which costs less than two coffees.

If you decide to upgrade, you’ll get an exclusive first look at the full drafts where your input, questions and feedback will shape the final outcome of each newsletter.

You’ll get also get access to audio versions of each newsletter, done by me, not an AI bot, and special video podcasts where I have conversations with fellow musicians and friends about their mental health challenges as musicians.

Here’s a sneak peak at what you get, with one of my audio newsletters from earlier this year.

But even if you’re a free subscriber, you’re already supporting me, and I’m grateful for that.

So I’d love for you to forward it to a friend or fellow musician who might find comfort in it. The bigger our community, the more we can help artists around the world share their mental health stories and feel less alone.

Free email without sacrificing your privacy

Gmail is free, but you pay with your data. Proton Mail is different.

We don’t scan your messages. We don’t sell your behavior. We don’t follow you across the internet.

Proton Mail gives you full-featured, private email without surveillance or creepy profiling. It’s email that respects your time, your attention, and your boundaries.

Email doesn’t have to cost your privacy.

Ditch the Gmail data grab