The Drop That Broke Me: Drugs, Dark Night of the Soul & The Music That Brought Me Back

Walking away from music in 2018 was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made. And somehow, also one of the best.

But back then? It felt like failure. Like betrayal. I didn’t want to stop— I needed to. Because I knew if didn’t, I’d end up seriously considering whether I even wanted to keep living.

Monday mornings were the hardest. I’d peel myself out of bed, head foggy, body aching, dragging myself to another full day of work at Ableton Liveschool in Sydney. If I hadn’t completely blown myself out over the weekend, I’d try to salvage the day: gym, green smoothie, meditation, a few hopeful pages from a self-help book.

Like it was going to make that much of a difference 🫠😝

Then came Tuesday. Then Wednesday. Then Thursday. Each day a little heavier than the last.

I wanted to make music, but my brain was stuck in a loop of static— thoughts firing off like sparks from a frayed wire. Guilt, shame, exhaustion. The whole emotional carousel.

Even with this lifestyle, I would train a few times a week. I’d try to wake up early, squeeze in a few hours of music production— but it was hit or miss. And when I did make it into the studio, I couldn’t hear through the noise in my head. Every decision felt like a brick wall. I’d obsess over one track for months and still feel like I hadn’t gotten anywhere.

By Friday, I’d start to feel human again. The weekend shimmered on the horizon like a reward. Or a trap. Sometimes it was a quiet night with a few drinks, but often it was a full-blown bender: booze, drugs, no sleep. Rinse and repeat.

Saturday was usually more of the same: brunches, long lunches, loose adventures that bled into Sunday morning. By then it was a race: chasing the high, dodging the crash, trying to stretch the feeling before Monday rolled back around.

It wasn’t sustainable. And deep down, I knew it.

What followed was a journey— spiritual, emotional, deeply personal. I didn’t plan for it. But when I stepped away from music, I created space. And in that space, something new started to grow.

I found other work, back in the gym, and slowly began to rebuild. The weekends were still messy sometimes, (old habits don’t die quietly!) but the chaos was losing its grip. Life started to feel better on the surface, but inside, something was still stirring. I’d unknowingly dug myself into a deep hole, and I was desperate to climb out.

Then came a radical experiment: no booze, no coffee— for an entire year. Originally, the plan was even more ambitious. No social media, no TV, no fast food, sugar, or drugs. But by day three, I crumbled. So I narrowed the focus. Just those two things. Alcohol and coffee. And it changed me in the best way.

Three months in, I looked at myself in the mirror. I’d actually done it and followed through on something. And for the first time (maybe ever!) I looked at myself and said: "Well done." Tears came. A surge of energy ran through my body. This is it, I thought.

Without alcohol, the desire for drugs faded. Booze had always been the gateway. I still slipped a handful of times that year, but they were just blips, not patterns. My life starting orbiting around health and healing, not parties and comedowns. Yoga was already part of my world, and I leaned into it deeply. I started meeting new people— people who didn’t live for the next weekend. Imagine that?! 🤣 People who radiated something different. It wasn’t about what they had achieved, it was who they were. Their energy. Their presence.

That was when I first started to understand: this path I was on— it was spiritual. A friend of mine had even shared her recovery from crystal meth online, and it cracked something open in me. I sought support through coaching, courses, weekend workshops, even plant medicine retreats. And my inner world exploded.

It was part liberation, part torture. Like a veil had been lifted. I finally saw the beauty of life, and the pain, too. I saw how we’ve all been conditioned to chase happiness through the next high, the next thing. I saw how much of my past I had buried, (trauma I’d never acknowledged!) and how it shaped the way I showed up every day. It was like the operating system of my life had a virus, and I was glitching out. So I started the work: somatic healing, nervous system regulation, trauma release. All the things no one really teaches you until you break.

This went on for six years. The deeper I tapped into that part of myself— the quiet knowing, the inner wisdom— the more I realised just how much noise I’d been living in. Not just the noise of the city, the clubs and my mind... But the noise of other people’s expectations. What I should do. Who I should be. How I should live.

This deep inner work changed everything because it showed me how little I’d been listening to my own voice. And the more I let go of that pre-conditioned narrative, the more I stumbled into something I didn’t expect: who I had become. And the truth was, I didn’t like who I was.

On the surface though? Smiling. Happy. It was all a facade! Because deep down? I was battling. Struggling. And I hardly let anyone know.

My life had become full of winning morning routines, rituals, and "five-steps-to..." approaches. And... It was all driven by ego— the endless chase of becoming something, achieving something, fixing something (myself!), in order to be happy. Beautiful ideas, no doubt. But they weren’t mine. I was following a blueprint that looked good on paper but felt hollow in practice. I was ticking off someone else’s checklist for happiness, all while quietly sacrificing my own in the process.

And then— shit got dark. Very dark. Because when I finally stopped running, when I stripped everything back and looked at myself with nothing to hide behind, I saw someone I didn’t fully recognise. And in many ways, didn’t even like. I had become a version of myself shaped more by external influences than internal truth. The curated self. The overachiever. The seeker. The fixer.

There's a term for this experience. It's better known as the dark night of the soul. If you’ve never heard of it, you’ve probably never been in it. And if you have? Well, then you fucking know.

It’s the unraveling as everything you thought you were starts to fall away. You lose your identity. You lose friends, relationships, jobs... You feel lost. Alone. Raw. It’s like your soul is going through depression.

But it's not all despair. There are moments (beautiful moments!) of joy, alignment, lightness. It’s a tug-of-war between the old you and the emerging you. But the hardest part was tuning out the voices of everyone else— society, mentors, parents even the well-meaning ones— and asking: What’s really me?

It became a dance between living in my head and listening to my soul. Between what I was taught to want, and what I actually wanted. Between what was 'hard work' and what flowed with ease and grace. And slowly, piece by piece, I let go of what didn’t bring me joy. Even then, I still wasn’t sure if I was getting it “right.”

It took a long time— I couldn’t even tell you how long— to put myself and my joy first. It was gradual. Messy. And still, to this day, I’m not living in some perfect, every-moment-is-bliss reality. But most of my life is joy now. And I love that. But even in that experience... there was still something missing.

What I’d been ignoring— what I’d buried along with all the chaos— was one of my soul’s deepest callings: electronic music. And in early 2024 it came rushing back in like the drop after a slow, emotional build; that sacred moment. A true release.

Suddenly, I felt plugged in again.

But with the return of music came shadows of the past— old behaviors tied to DJing that no longer fit. I learned that I can heal the trauma… but I would still need time to integrate that healing into my day-to-day human self. So that’s what I chose to do.

I’m not one to swear off anything forever. That’s not where I’m at. I don’t believe in labelling things as strictly “good” or “bad” (and in this context, I'm talking drugs and alcohol). For me, it’s simpler than that: something is either helping me or it isn’t. And I believe life is meant to be enjoyed, in whatever way feels true for each person.

But for me, drinking and DJing had become too closely entwined. There was an unhealthy dependence buried in that connection. And every time I let that pattern resurface, it nudged me back toward a lifestyle I’d worked hard to outgrow. The benders weren’t as wild or as heavy as they once were, but they started showing up more often than I was liked. Enough to make me pause. Enough to make me reassess.

Because the truth was, I didn’t feel confident behind the decks unless I was drinking or high.

So the new journey began: learning to DJ sober.

It wasn’t instant, but it happened. And once it did, something shifted. Even the way I DJ’d changed. I wasn’t just dusting off the old me— I was becoming someone new behind the decks.

And whilst that was happening, I discovered something else: my taste had evolved. There was a whole new sound calling me. I started sifting through genres like I was crate-digging through my soul. From poolside vibes to a beautiful outdoor terrace, stopping at rooftops and house parties along the way. Deep house, disco, drum & bass, trance, techno, electro— I loved it all. But this time, I tuned into the feeling. What did I want to play? And what was just fun to listen to?

That distinction took time. But eventually, a sound began to take shape for DJing, a fusion of real instruments like sax, guitar and piano; balearic textures, congas and bongos; tribal rhythms; House and Tech House grooves; funky basslines. It became a love child of everything that lit me up. And I'm fucking obsessed!

So I'm back in the studio now, and it’s a mix of excitement and challenge. There’s still a part of me that wants everything to be perfect straight away. (Old habits die hard, huh?!) But now I’m much comfortable now with imperfection. This isn’t about nailing it on the first try. That was my ego getting in the way. Now it's about enjoying the process and being proud of what I've created and who I'm becoming along the way. And there’s a whole new joy in that.

I’m sharing this because letting go/walking away is often the foundation of something beautiful. I discovered that when I let go of everything, I was able to see what finds it's way back. I've learned that what returns is meant for you, what doesn’t… probably wasn’t. Kind of like that old saying of "If you love someone, let them go, if they come back they're yours." Well, it works for us in our own lives too.

I chose to let go of music, not because I didn’t love it, but because the way I was relating to it was toxic. Now, it’s back. And it’s better than ever. I enjoy DJing more than I ever did. (Like, how?!) 🥹 And now it's about integrating music production in with writing and mentoring and all of the other wonderful things I've created in my life.

And definitely learning how to take breaks amidst all of that! 😂