Why did I quit music?

Where to begin the story of my musical end? One particular scene pops into my head first. A few months after the album's release, I'm sitting after work on the yellow railing under the Prague Congress Hall overlooking the Nusel Bridge, the weather is beautiful, I'm on the phone with my mom, and totally broken I spend almost an hour discussing with her that I can't do it anymore. That everything I tried to avoid was happening and I was totally exhausted. That none of the steps I've taken over the last two years, sacrificing all my time, focus, social life, and money, have worked. That I no longer have the strength or desire and am pretty desperate for even the slightest positive feedback that would give me the energy to keep going. But it is not coming. Everything is fucked up.

My mom tries to convince me that what I'm doing is great and that just releasing an album is a success, I should damn appreciate myself. But that the world won't stop, that I don't have to prove anything to anyone and I can just quit if it doesn't make me happy. To quit... that sounded crazy. Truthfully, it didn't shock me as much as I would have expected, because my soul was probably craving any kind of relief, but there was one major question that ran through my brain that I remember quite clearly because it hurt like getting cut with a dull knife. Then who am I gonna be? But to understand ourselves, we must go back in time.

Of course, my inner hell didn't start overnight with the release of the album in March 2019. It was a state that I had been building inside me for a long time since I moved to Prague (2016). I had loaded too much on myself. I moved out of my hometown, got my first 8 hr job which wasn't easy, threw myself 150% into creating and recording the album, and took a chance on living with a man I'd only known for a few months. That by itself might not have turned out badly, but when you add to that the exaggerated demands on yourself, the total inability to praise yourself occasionally, inability to take a break and deep breath, poor motivation, and non-existent social contacts outside of music (you're all about work, studio, gigs), a toxic relationship that soon starts to creak and slowly eats away at all your self-esteem, it's a straight road to hell. A very deep and dark hell. To complete the picture, imagine how I was secretly crying every time I was returning to Prague. I don't feel good there for a moment. I expect to get used to it over time, like other people, because returning home is out of the question. That would be a defeat, a weakness, a failure. But I will never get used to it. It hurts me even now, just thinking about it.

All this has been piling up for 2-3 years and my soul has been sinking to a place where everything is darker and a hundred pounds heavier. Where every criticism and rejection hurts 1000 times more and no partial success counts. I spent a year trying to reach out to foreign labels to get someone to help me publicize the album and send it out because I knew that the music I was making was far more popular everywhere else than in the Czech republic. I got a lot of nice feedback, but nobody wanted to help me and I saw and stored up only the rejection.

In the end, I self-released the album and it was time to push it hard because, in today's internet age, good music doesn't mean anything anymore. Today, the best and most visible promo wins. But even though I already had one of the best video makers and photographers in our country by my side at that time, I didn't have any energy left. I saw myself as a loser, I was slowly losing faith in my music completely, and then promo is hard to do. Every post or promo I had to force myself to do, I was disgusted by it and it was more like throwing salt in the wound. "What do you want to promote here, nobody cares about you anyway, you loser" my own foggy brain kept attacking me.

Over the years, I've also grown very tired and frustrated with the extra struggle that is there when you want to "make it" in the all-male scene. I've never felt any benefits of being the only solo woman in CZ from anyone, but I have felt obstacles for sure. Of course, men will say it's nonsense, but ask any brave woman who has tried it for even a little while (there have been a few, but really only for a little while). And frankly, when even after X years of being active and with a freshly released album you almost never get a better time on the lineup and almost always play, as the first live act, it's damn frustrating. Plus when you hear all the time how great your gigs are. Yeah, put the first girl on and then the sausage party can start. I deserve a better time not because I'm a girl, but because someone wants to give me a chance regardless of gender for the show I have. So that I don't have to make people who just arrived at the party dance every time. I was doing the hardest work. That's really zero support for having the balls to do it! I've even been denied more than once at gigs for my request to at least be introduced when I'm supposed to play first. Thanks for nothing.

The feeling of defeat, disinterest and lack of support from others was due to all the above-mentioned factors and also to a few disappointments in people who turned away from me in my new phase for unclear reasons or even promised me support/help and then ditched me. Unfortunately, there have also been the mythical "if no hook-up happens, neither will the promised help" situations. However, what fueled my sense of failure the most was the fact that I suddenly had the fewest gigs in 6 years, which I didn't understand at all and felt like a betrayal from the scene. That it didn't appreciate and support something as big as releasing a full-length album full of foreign producers ( not even to mention the only female artist).

After all, it was the interest in my concerts in the years prior to that that was the main reason why I got the idea to lean into music more and not just see it as a hobby (note: for example, I played around 50 concerts a year for 3 years in a row, a year has 52 weekends). It gave me hope that maybe it's good, that people enjoy it, and that it has a future. And now that I've finished such a significant thing and music that for the first time in my life I was really proud of, hardly anyone is interested in it. In the end, I wasn't even happy with the few concerts that were happening. The feeling that it wasn't good enough, that no one appreciate it, that I was imposing myself, that there was too much struggle, was still prevalent in my head. I recall a feeling of emptiness mixed with inner struggle, alcohol, and an inability to have fun or accept any kind of praise. from them.

It was only a few months from the phone call with my mom until that fateful day in October 2019 when I wanted to take my own life. Because if everything that had been building up for so long and my self-torture wasn't enough, then there were two ugly interactions with people I cared about, who were sort of my last hope that there was still a point in carrying on with them. First one, then another a week later, and within half an hour my mind went dark. And then there was the part of the story you're more familiar with today. Therapy, waking up, changing my whole head and soul, pandemic, moving, healing, happy ending. But without music.

Was it all the music? Of course not. Very simple, it was my poor motivation, zero self-esteem, and the need for external validation of my achievements. In other words, extreme performance orientation, due to family trauma, and especially a bad relationship with my father, combined with non-existent mental self-care. I suppose I haven't explained anything to you now, have I? But it would be too long, we'll do that next time.😊

So why don't I go back to music when I feel better? Because even though I understood it all and sorted it out as best I could, it took too long and absorbed too much pain. I really can't. My brain has so much shit associated with any musical act that it triggers me beyond belief. And now I don't mean my music or singing itself, but everything around it. The promoting, the arranging gigs, the lineups, the reviews, the comments. As soon as I start trying to do that, the anxiety sets in. And even though I understand today how I made it all worse in my head and how I would do it all differently today, that doesn't mean the lack of support from the scene wasn't real. That's why it will never be more than a very occasional hobby anymore. And it will be definitely somewhere else other than in the reggae scene. It's because the picture has become quite clear to me that I have different expectations from reggae than the "average" Czech reggae listener, who mainly wants a joint, a beer, a chill, and then maybe more jungle than reggae.

I honestly don't know how it would have turned out if the pandemic hadn't happened and all the concerts hadn't been put on hold for two years. I guess I'd still be wondering if I shouldn't give it a chance after all (just for a different audience), because leaving your own identity is terribly scary. Especially if you have to leave something you've dedicated your entire being to for a hell of a long time, for the second time in your life. Plus with the thought of having to start all over again, but you don't even know what yet. That's the question, "Then who am I gonna be?" Pandemic made this easier for me and gave me time to disconnect without regrets, heal and find a new path in peace. Plus actually, it sent me back to my real true self, see the article on my lost writing.

I'm grateful for all the bad, but also the great. And that there has been an incredible amount of the great. For me, mostly at concerts in Slovakia and Poland. My only regret today is that I enjoyed the journey so little, that I was almost never present, that I never really heard anyone's compliments properly, and that I never saw how good I was. Because I was and am good. It's been an interesting 15 years. This year, I'll say goodbye to them at two of the biggest (semi-genre) festivals in our country, Cultural Reggae Vibez and Beats for Love. So maybe come check me out there and celebrate with me. Thanks to everyone who's ever danced with me under the stage and knew what I was singing about. I'll never forget you!