TURNING 40: THE ART OF GETTING OVER MYSELF
I’m turning 40 soon. And if I’ve mastered anything over these years, it’s the art of helping other artists, musicians, and producers sharpen their skills, find their sound, land their wins. I’ve been the guy cheering them on from the sidelines, subtly wondering why the hell it never felt like my turn.
Why aren’t I successful?
Why can’t I break through?
Why’s no one listening to my music?
Took me four decades to figure it out:
I’ve been the stubbornest motherfucker in the room.
See, what I’ve wanted all along isn’t some complicated mystery. I wanted to make a living doing what I love—music. Simple. But every time that question creeped in—
WHAT DO I ACTUALLY WANT?
—I’d dodge it. Because deep down, the answer scared the shit outta me.
I’ve walked away from more opportunities than I can count. Solid, steady chances at the life I claimed I wanted, right there in front of me. The catch? I’d have to give up a little control. Make something people actually wanted to hear. Loosen my death grip on “perfection.”
But I wasn’t having it.
I didn’t give a fuck about the audience.
I straight-up (not literally) spat in the faces of label owners who saw potential in me and offered me real, career-changing shots. I p’shaw’d at peers who made sacrifices I thought were beneath me. I wore self-sabotage like it was some kind of badge:
“No, man. Gotta stay pure. I’ll be famous when I’m dead. This shit’s mine.”
Thought I was being principled. Thought I was setting myself up to be one of those artists whose music outlives ’em, only appreciated after they’re buried six feet under.
Reality check?
That’s not noble. That’s naive.
A great way to die broke, bitter, and unheard.
FAST FORWARD TO NOW
So here I am now. Still the musician. Still the producer.
Still the guy who thought he knew everything when he started.
Turns out… didn’t know shit then.
Probably know even less now.
But one thing’s different—I’m not bullshitting myself anymore.
I’ve got wins under my belt. Plenty more failures. Enough hiatuses to fill an encyclopedia. Times when I questioned if I even liked making music at all anymore.
But somehow, I’m still here.
And now? I’m humbled. Vulnerable. Focused.
It took a whole series of brutal wake-up calls to see the truth:
I spent years building a glass cage around myself.
Not because I was scared of failing—
but because I was terrified of what would happen if I succeeded.
I told myself I couldn’t sell out. Couldn’t compromise. Couldn’t make moves without losing myself.
What a joke.
I clung to the fear like it was protecting me. Like it was keeping my art “pure” when really, it was keeping me stuck.
BREAKING MY HABIT OF SELF-SABOTAGE
So what changed?
I stopped hoarding.
Stopped hiding.
Stopped burying songs like acorns I’d never dig up again.
I used to drop a release, get a few people hyped, then vanish.
Didn’t want anyone judging it.
Didn’t want anyone telling me it was “good” when I needed it to be earth-shattering.
So instead, I’d go dark. Start over. Chase some uncatchable standard of perfection.
And where’d that get me?
Years gone. Opportunities missed. Joy drained out of something I loved because I couldn’t handle being seen as “just good enough.”
Now?
Now I know I actually do want the things I’ve been daydreaming about all my life.
And I’m finally ready to work for them.
No more disappearing. No more glass cage.
It’s not about selling out.
It’s about showing the fuck up.
And leaving the fear behind.