I had to go back and read my previous post to see where I was headspace-wise the last time I shared anything with the world to even attempt to write again. I was surprised to see I hadn’t posted since 2020 when the pandemic had just started. I honestly thought I had posted something more recently. Then I found a blog I had started early last year, but after reading it, I knew the words weren’t right. Quite honestly, they were a whole lot of bullshit. I wasn’t being my true self in the slightest. Thinking back on it, I was writing in a way that I thought would be appealing to others. Probably in an effort to feel like I mattered in some small way after how 2020 and 2021 had absolutely destroyed my view of my job, the future, the world…everything. I was lost for what felt like the thousandth time in my life.

 I had hoped with 2022 bringing back some signs of when life was “normal” would help me find my way back to something. To some identity. My identity had always been tied into being a touring musician and no matter how much I tried to act like it wasn’t, it was my everything. I realized last year it can’t be that anymore. Because I’m a miserable fuck when all of my worth is tied into the gig I’m on when things aren’t going how I had pictured them. Ultimately every gig, like any job, has its ups and downs, highlights and challenges, but the downs and challenges feel almost personal when your life is tied into it. It will affect my whole life – my general attitude, the value I see in myself as both a musician and human, how I see the world even. All this to say, I came to the conclusion at the end of 2022 when I could barely get out of bed or function because of deep, deep depression, that the value I see in myself has to come from only thing I can control in my life, myself.

 I was forced to ask myself what was really going on in that deep depressive state. What it felt like was that yet another year had come to a conclusion and I had nothing to show for it. I was in the same position in life as I was the year before. And the year before that. My identity as a touring musician was lost because, well, I had barely toured since 2020. Since 2020 I’ve done maybe around 60 shows (for reference – I believe I did close to 100 in just 2019). While I’ve still been able to make an ok living thankfully, I found myself wanting more. I had a really hard time watching others playing Fallon, Colbert, the ACMs, the CMA awards, halftime shows for major sporting events, going on major tours, etc. when I was just sitting at home a lot of the time. When you’re not doing what a lot of your peers are doing, you start to wonder why. Obviously this was because of something I did wrong or a lack of talent, or so I told myself.  I thought I was getting closer to these career milestones at one point and all the sudden they felt so far away once again. It was tearing me down, making me question myself as a player and if this would be my end-of-year-state every year. It only seemed to be getting worse with each passing year. This last year was the worst yet. Essentially, I was constantly wondering, “what in the fuck am I doing anymore?”. Like I said, I was lost.

 The music business can be harsh. It can (and probably will at some point) break you down, chew you up, spit you out and not give a shit where you end up. It’s a hard one to navigate – one that combines something you love with trying to make a living with it. If you feel lost and not sure of yourself in this business, it’s a really hard place to be. You don’t have many people to talk about it. Or at least I don’t.  My non-musician friends and family don’t get it – I’m making a living playing music, be positive and look at the bright side they say. My musician friends are all comparing where they’re at in their journey to mine so I feel awkward bringing up how I’m feeling for fear of it causing issues. This actually happened to me in 2017 – a friend made me feel like absolute shit for expressing how I was feeling with work and life at the moment. It hurt like hell and so now I tend to be far more reserved because of it. I’ve been kind of stuck to deal with this on my own (in my case, with the help of a therapist).  It becomes a very dark and lonely place. The most frustrating thing is that I know others feel the same way I do, but can’t or won’t talk about it openly. I’m of the mindset that you can be both grateful for where you’re at and hurt, frustrated, or lost with where you’re going at the same time. They are not mutually exclusive.

 I feel like I need to say here that I truly do love what I do for a living. I’m incredibly thankful for where I am. No matter what’s happening on a particular day on the road, I fucking love playing shows. All the frustrations, fears, insecurities tend to disappear for those 90 minutes on stage. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to put into words that feeling walking onto a dark stage the moment before the first note gets played. The adrenaline, energy in the air right and the intense focus before the count off into the top of the set..damn, it feels good. It’s my favorite part of this job because no matter what happens in the show, that little moment right before it all starts is special. Whether I have a complete shit show or the best show of my life, that pre-count off moment is always the same. It’s what keeps me coming back for more.

 With that being said, 2023 for me is about finding my worth outside of the only thing that’s defined me the last 10+ years. I want to find my definition of worth outside of music. I want to focus on finding value in and love for myself that isn’t tied to any gig status or achievement. I want to work on my physical and mental health – to treat myself and my body with acceptance and love, but always open to growing and challenging myself. I want to find some lasting happiness with where I am and not just focus on where I want to be. Making more money and improving my career status as the years have gone on has made a difference, but it hasn’t brought me the feelings I thought it would. Or they were only temporary. Only I can make myself happy and all the other great life/career things that happen are just extra.

 An exercise I’ve worked on in therapy over the years is something I call “then what?”. Basically you look at something (typically not a good something) that could possibly happen and ask “then what?”. And you keep asking the “then what?” question until you realize things will be ok. It doesn’t make a painful experience less painful, but it does give you hope that things will be ok in the end. Lately I’ve asked myself if I don’t get to check anymore items off the “career milestone” list, then what? Does it make me any less valuable or worthy of love and respect? The side of me that’s still healing immediately thinks so, but the healthy side of me I’ve put so much work into building says, “absolutely not”. Will it be disappointing? Of course, but it won’t destroy me. I know I’m a good bass player. There’s plenty of guys technically better than me, but I’m solid. I know I’m limited, too - I can’t play slap bass for shit and am only just ok with using a pick. I don’t have the best ear, so it can take me longer to learn a part than another player. (And, dear God, I apologize to any person who has had to hear me solo – trust me, I want to play a bass solo about as much as you want to hear one ha!). To me, it doesn’t really matter what I lack in natural talent because I’ll outwork anyone. Part of it is because I have to and I’ve accepted that. But, I’ll show up prepared and give an artist/gig my all every time. And I’m proud of that.  Never thought I’d be able to write that down to share with anyone. I’ve only ever said that out loud to myself and never truly believed it. And maybe once said it to my therapist. No matter where I end up with this career, I won’t walk away wondering if I didn’t measure up to the guys on the huge gigs. I can confidently say I do. Whatever happens with the time I’ve got left in this career is what it is. And that’s ok.

 For once, I wrote this for myself and not to get a reaction, praise or attention from anyone else. If no one reads it, I’m good with that. If someone reads it and hates it, I’m ok with that too. If someone reads it and they can relate in some way that helps them feel not so alone, that would be amazing. I don’t expect it, though. Part of my healing journey is putting this part of me out into the world. I’ve always desperately wanted to be liked, wanted, to feel like I belong somewhere. Most of my life has been trying to get that feeling from others, but I’m finally understanding that it has to come from myself. That’s the foundation of everything for me.

 To anyone who reads this, I hope you have a safe, happy and healthy 2023. God knows we could all use a bit of a breather after the past few years. Whether you’re working on finding yourself like me, trying to quit a bad habit, make more money, travel more, (insert whatever here), or just simply trying to make it through another year, you got this shit.

I’ll wrap this up with my newly adopted life motto – “If it aint a fuck yes, it’s a fuck no”. I use this for potential gigs, buying new clothes, deciding who I will spend my time with, etc. Don’t be afraid to say, “fuck no”. (sorry for the cussing mom, just being my true self :D)

See you down the road.