For the past decade, I’ve been immersed in the world of music, forging a path that defies convention and challenges the status quo.

Against the advice of friends, family, and early mentors, I’ve carved out a successful career on my own terms. Today, I oversee two thriving music school businesses, where my unconventional approach has brought both financial stability and personal fulfilment.

At the time of writing this story, I’ve recently launched “The Mental Musician” newsletter, a platform aimed at helping musicians worldwide to navigate the modern music industry with resilience and confidence. It’s a testament to the mantra that has guided me throughout:

When I was 16, I made a conscious decision to be a solo musician, quitting the idea of joining a band, and build my own fortress of solitude.

At the time, like most decisions teenage boys make, it seemed quite innocuous. It was as simple and easy as picking out what to eat for lunch every afternoon. As everyone else was joining the school bands, choirs and building their own groups, I stepped away and created my own pathway, on a completely different wavelength to everyone else.

As I look back now at 26, that decision was the first of many decisions where I chose to change directions, change my story from one where I was a mere supporting character to other people’s destinies, to one where I was the main character and the one in control.

I wasn’t always like this.

In fact, I always thrived in group settings and always enjoyed flying under the radar, whether it was in class activities, sporting teams and even mentoring kids in grades below me.

I never shied away from organising parties and outings with my friends, and in my sporting teams, I always felt like a leader, even if I didn’t have the “captain” label on the team sheet. Whenever I was with other people, I felt like I belonged somewhere and I mattered. But, at 16, things began to shift, and as I look back now, it had a lot to do with how things were at home.

An Outsider Even In My Own Village

Growing up, like many children from immigrant parents, family was at the core of my story.

Every Saturday afternoon, it was dinner at my Auntie and Uncles. Every Sunday it was lunch at my cousins and visiting my grandparents. These gatherings often saw at least 30 of us come together at the local park where the parents would cook up some sausages on the barbeque plate, whilst the kids ran riot on their bikes and scooters.

Come to think of it, out of all these gatherings, I probably only knew about 6 of them by heart, as the families were extended beyond any living tree.

It didn’t matter if you were connected by blood or DNA, if someone knew my parents, my aunties, uncles or cousins, they were invited.

All the kids weren’t my cousins. To me, they were my brothers and sisters that I could shout at, banter with, sometimes even get into a few fisty cuffs with them. If we did, I would have my 4th auntie, who I hardly even recognised, tell me off, as if I were her own son. In the end, we all would still sit at the same table, put aside our temporary hatred for each other, and then enjoy the beautifully cooked, and slightly charred sausages our parents prepared for us.

If we were well behaved and finished our hot food, then a trip to McDonalds for ice cream and McFlurries was our reward.

Left Behind

As time went on, all our families moved away either further into the suburbs, interstate and even internationally.

It’s always the case with nature, but eventually the family gatherings went from every Saturday, to every second Saturday. The Sunday afternoon park meetups went from every month to every 6 months. My visits to my grandparents went from twice a week to twice a year.

When we were all together, we were a big family.

But now, as we all set off writing the next chapter of our lives, all my second cousins and fourth aunties all were relegated to mere characters in our family photobook. Every now and then, when I look at these photo books, I can barely recognise these people, and if my parents told me these photos were photoshopped, I’d believe them.

So by the time I was 16, our families had completely split.

At school, I couldn’t find my own family, and my village. Every time I auditioned for the school band, I was told my style of guitar was not right for the curriculum. Every time I applied to be a mentor to the junior high schoolers, I was told my methods were too radical and too intense.

Even at lunch, my friends would gossip and bicker about the popular groups, talking about their favourite stores to shop at, and before the COVID pandemic, my friends created their of pandemic in the form of the teenage rumour-ville, giving our razzie awards in the form of:

• Most bitchy classmate

• Most likely to get pregnant

• Most likely to smoke and do drugs

But away from the typical high school gossip magazine, I felt, perhaps I could relate into conversations about the future.

Except none of my friends were interested in talking about their future, beyond where they planned to go to see the next Marvel blockbuster on Saturday. I wanted to talk about forging my own pathway as a musician, and do it differently by making music videos on Youtube. And when everyone penciled in their university choices, I penciled in the countries I wanted to visit and the people I wanted to meet overseas, to learn from.

In my mind I had big dreams and ambitions, but in my friends minds, I was writing my script to failure and making nothing out of my life.

Things at home didn’t make it any better either.

My parents had their dream for me to go to a prestigious university, rack up accolades like a collection of pokemon cards, and land the first high paying job that rolled my way. So you can imagine the disappointment when I told I wanted to pursue a career where less than 10% of people genuinely succeed, and out of those 10%, only 1% truly builds a sustainable and financially viable career.

My last hope came in the form of my music mentors, and even they were no help at all. They had their own scripts for me, and when I told them I wanted to pursue music professionally, all I heard was:

“Firstly here is the pathway to the top 5 music schools in Australia”

“Then once you get your degree in music, apply for a masters in education so you can get a job as a music classroom teacher”

“Once you land a job, start working your way through all the schools in Sydney, and in 10 years you’ll be able to become a head teacher of music at a prestigious private school”

I guess once I disappointed my family, my “friends”, I might as well complete the trifecta and disappoint my music teachers, the one people who you’d think would’ve supported whatever decision I make.

The irony was, once I did this, the gate was unlocked, and like a horse at the Melbourne Cup, and off I went.

I look back at my childhood, and whilst I loved being in groups and being part of a family, every time I was, I felt like I was an expendable pawn that could be replaced at any moment.

In all the sporting teams I played in, I was always in the reserve team, never quite being able to make the jump to the A team.

In every family gathering, I was just another kid, and the one who was a major disappointment because I wasn’t a studious academic like literally every single one of my cousins.

In all my friends group, I had absolutely no interest in relationships, gossip about the latest celebrity scandal, or where to go shopping on a Saturday afternoon .

Once I finished high school, I made my way into the real world, and if you think I’m about to tell you that I was ready and jumping at every opportunity where I could truly be myself, well…

Sort of…

Still Trying To Find My Way

You see, I finished high school in 2015, and in all honesty, for the next 8 years, I still struggled to find my place in this world, and find my village of people I could truly connect with.

In the seven years after high school, I taught over 500 students privately one-on-one and spent many hours helping young kids take the first steps to learning their first songs on the guitar.

As rewarding and fulfilling as it was to see a child smile with joy the moment they finished their first song, and to see their parents tear up with pride, in between the 10 000 hours of teaching, I had just as many hours on my own driving alone from one home to another, and going home to my parents house after 10pm when everyone was asleep, and eventually my own apartment where I was the only inhabitant.

Even when I was accepted into the Conservatorium of Music in Sydney in 2021, I had never felt more alone in my life, despite the fact I was surrounded by 700 other musicians who were forging their own careers in music.

Why Am I Sharing This?

So if you had made it this far into my story, you must be wondering “Is there a silver lining to all this where you finally belong after you find your village , or is this going to be a massive sob story where I vent out about the well of loneliness I clearly created myself?”

Let me explain:

You see, all the time I spent in groups I never fit in as a child, I was subconsciously taking control of my story, and becoming the author to my script.

The Irony Of My Self-Imposed Solitude

At every family gathering, if the kids were riding around on their bikes and scooters, I would be running on foot, building courage, endurance and resilience to keep up with my cousins. For me, they took the lazy route, whilst I knew that I would outlast them because I pushed myself.

Even though I was never accepted into any of my school bands, I was actually the only guitarist in my school my classmates were genuinely interested in watching, because I was so different and more entertaining than the others.

And when my group of “friends” were gossiping about who is potentially cheating on who, I spent time bonding with my best friend, who’s parents accepted me into their family and basically “adopted” me as their own.

For music teachers; even though they were sceptical of the non-traditional pathway I was setting myself, they still believed in me and introduced me to other people who were more in tune with my niche.

And finally, and most importantly, with the narrative I’ve written for myself, I’ve been able to give my parents the gift that many children of immigrant families, only can dream of giving.

My parents, my Dad especially, gave up every single one of their dreams to ensure I had a chance to thrive in this world.

Both of them fled their poverty-ridden countries with no more than $100 to their name, leaving behind their family, their culture and heading towards a future that was only had 1% percentage chance of success.

Like many immigrant parents, all they ever wanted was for me, their children to live a happy and fulfilling life.

At 26 years old, despite the hard grind, hustle and toil, and constant criticism I’ve had to block out over the last 10 years, I’ve have been able to show my parents that I am living a life that I can be truly proud of, and it is only just getting started.

I have taught many young kids how to use music as a funnel to be the most authentic versions of themselves. I’ve been able to use music as a vessel to help people break out of their wells of depression, including my own. I’ve been able to meet some of the most incredible people in my life, thanks to the opportunities music has given me.

And most importantly, I’ve been able to do this my way, stay true to my values, and be the most honest version of myself.

The irony now is, now I am getting back into being part of big groups and communities.

Only this time, I know exactly where my place is in these groups, and I can both, blend in by flying under the radar, whilst also standing out in the best possible way by being myself.

So the next time you wonder if you have a place in this world, and whether it is okay to be different, remember this:

Chances are, once you take control of your life, you end up attracting more people and eventually forging your own village.

P.S. Thank you so much for taking 10 minutes of your day to read today’s newsletter.

I’d love to hear what you thought about this type of newsletter.

Before I leave you today, I want to ask you a question:

Do you feel your life has been defined by the expectations of others or yourself?

Now this is a very deep question, so take some time to think about your answer.

In the meantime, if you feel stuck in your musical journey or wondering how to turn isolation into opportunity? Let's discuss how you can take control of your path and reconnect with your true purpose as a musician.

Go here to book in a call with me - https://calendly.com/musicstarsacademy/let-s-have-a-chat-tell-me-your-story