In 2009 I used to do so much, for so many people, for so little reward that—looking back—I don’t know how I paid rent.
I recall a typical Thursday evening when everyone else was finishing work, but I was just starting…
- I made 6 trips up and down the stairs to load my drum kit into my little hatchback. My back already felt like it was on fire
- I drove 2 hours to rehearsal, unloaded my kit, then spent half an hour setting it up
- I rehearsed for 2 hours, broke down my kit, then put it all back in the car again
- I stayed with the singer that night, then drove further north to Friday’s show
- I got my drums out again, assembled them again, played 24 tunes, packed my drums down again, put them in the car again
- I then drove 2 hours south, where I caught a ferry at Portsmouth. (The bandleader I was meeting for the next show hadn’t booked a cabin, so I did my best to sleep upright.)
- I played another show Saturday night in Rouen, France
- I boarded another overnight ferry back to the UK
- I drove another 2 hours to the next show
- I set up again, I performed again, I packed up again
After navigating 2 road closures, I finally arrived home at 7 AM on Monday morning, where I made 6 more trips up the stairs with my kit.
Everyone else was starting work, I was just finishing.
When I finally rolled into bed I remembered that the 4 cans of Red Bull I’d used to keep me awake as I drove coast-to-coast overnight didn’t give a f¥ck that I was finally done. So I spent a couple hours looking at my ceiling, wondering if all this was worth it…
After expenses, I ended that weekend with ₤200 in my pocket.
As I write this to you now it sounds insane. But I kept on like that until 2015 (when my spine could take no more punishment).
(If you’re wondering why I didn’t just get a normal job, well, I was convinced that was an even deeper circle of hell.)
Looking back, I’m aware of how much trouble I’d have saved myself if I’d known how to wield a simple 2-letter word that I’d known since I was 1 year old:
“No.”
But I didn’t know how to use that word, and as I look now at the way most others live their lives, I’m aware that they don’t know how to use it, either.
I’ve written before on the deeper psychology of saying “no”, so here I’m just going to give you the quick solution:
The best way to say “no” is to first accept that people won’t like it.
The singer I was working with for most of that weekend I illustrated above was an assertive lady. I’d heard her on the phone with several other musicians, where she demanded they work with her for free (because she was hiring them for paid work on other dates).
She was the first person I ever really said “no” to. Of course, as one does the first time they try something, I did a poor job. She took it very personally. So, sadly, after 3 years of cameraderie, she and I never spoke again.
I didn’t enjoy that experience. But I saw that waiting to say no had been a huge part of the problem. If I’d established boundaries sooner, I may have been able to salvage my relationship with that singer.
I had many more rough experiences on the way to healthy boundaries. But as I got the hang of it, something weird started to happen…
The more ready I was to say “no”, the less people tested my boundaries.
Call it telepathy, call it subcommunication, call it whatever you like, but it was, for sure, astounding:
- Bandleaders stopped asking me to rehearse
- Music students stopped asking me to reschedule at the last minute
- Dates stopped being flakey
These days, my boundaries are so well-established that it’s as if my time and energy are protected by an impenetrable fortress. Which means I have full agency over what I do with them. And that’s how I:
- Married my dream partner
- Started working with my mentor, Dan Koe
- Earned $100,000 on X teaching freaking mindfulness. (Imagine how much you could make on something that’s easier to sell.)
And all with zero stress.
This is the power of saying “no”.
If you need help with that, click here.
With love from my desk,
dg💙
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