I spent years chasing my dream of being a singer songwriter by following other people’s guidelines. College was a must. A backup plan was required. Being a responsible, financially stable grown-up with a planner full of obligations was the only way to prove your worth – at least in the way I’d been brought up in the world.

All of that well-intended advice led me from a music degree in college to a cublicle in corporate America. I worked right in the heart of downtown Nashville like I’d always dreamed, but I was too glued to my spreadsheets and my coffee cup to have the time to notice. The longer I worked at that job, the less I began to feel like myself.

I wasn’t singing anymore. Wasn’t writing anymore. Wasn’t attending concerts or making friends in the industry. 

Because, I thought, I’d “grown up” and “grown out” of my desire to be a musician.

I began to think maybe it HAD all been childish whimsy, like everyone always says about a kid with a big dream.

But a few years in, as I moved slowly up the career ladder at my company, I started to realize how absolutely miserable I was. And it made no sense to me in the moment. I had a steady job, I was recognized for my skills and was being given greater responsibility and coveted promotions. Outside of work, I’d met and married my husband. 

On paper, everything was perfect.

But I couldn’t drag myself out of bed in the morning. I arrived at work later and later as time went on, which, when you’re the manager, is no good at all. 

I’d make it through the day, throwing back coffee and chocolate cake from the market across the street. 

Then I’d drive home, sink into the couch, and stare at the ceiling.

I used to tell my husband there were “overlords” in my brain. It felt like I’d lost all control over the way I felt – the “overlords” did that for me.

What I know now was that I was SO busy, and SO overstimulated by my responsibilities and the ways in which I had to carry them out, that my brain and my body literally couldn’t process everything. They couldn’t keep up. I was in a constant state of overwhelm, and I thought it meant I was weak.

I thought about leaving many times, but didn’t know where else to go. I thought I HAD to have a professional job but nothing else I was qualified for sounded any better than what I already had. I didn’t know how I’d get my spark for music back, even if I wanted to.

But finally we decided to have a baby, and I at least had enough sense to know I’d never be able to care for a newborn feeling the way I was feeling. And so, I told the world (and myself) that I was quitting to be a stay at home mom.

I was really quitting to regain my sense of peace.

In the time since then (2015!), I’ve found my way back to music. Along the way, I started researching burnout and the ways in which music can help.

Because I know that while some women feel as though they have abandoned their dream to work in a “socially acceptable career,” there are many others who deep down love the work and the mission of their chosen fields.

Either way, we are not precluded from overwork or obligations at home.

Either way, we need outside sources of JOY, CREATIVE OUTLET, and FULFILLMENT.

And for those of us who have always F*CKING LOVED to sing – well, the choice is obvious. 

There had been a year in the midst of my time at a desk when I had taken voice lessons with a professional coach twice a month, and l know deep down that’s the only thing that got me through.

Now I know the many ways and the many reasons why.

And I created Sing For Your Self to share them with women like you.