Therapy for Musicians and Music Industry Professionals in Nashville: A Guide
It is 1 a.m. and load-out is finally done. The cases are in the trailer, somebody found the missing cable, and the house lights are already off behind you. You are still running at show speed, so you take the first shift.
Somewhere around Bowling Green the adrenaline drains out and something flat moves in. Not sad, exactly. Quiet in a way that feels slightly wrong, as if the show happened to someone else. You turn the radio up and keep going.
If you work in music, you probably know that flatness. This guide is for artists, songwriters, side players, and the people who keep the whole thing moving: agents, managers, label and publishing staff, and tour crew. It covers what this work tends to do to people, what comes up in therapy, and how therapy can fit around a schedule that refuses to sit still.
Why music-industry work is hard on mental health
Before I became a therapist, I worked as an agent in the music industry, so I have seen these pressures from the inside. The work asks you to be emotionally open on stage and completely unbothered off it. You write about the worst year of your life, then smile through a meet-and-greet.
The schedule changes every week. The money arrives in bursts. The feedback is public, immediate, and often measured in numbers you can refresh.
The skills that build a music career, pushing through, staying available, never letting it show, are the same ones that wear people down. Pushing through gets you through a show with a fever. It also gets you through years of ignoring what your body has been trying to tell you.
A common assumption is that the people who struggle in music are the ones who cannot handle the business. In my experience it is often the reverse. The people who handle it best on the surface frequently learned, a long time ago, to put their own needs last and keep the room happy.
What musicians bring to therapy
I do not assume I know your story because I know the industry. Still, certain themes come up again and again.
Comparison
Nashville is a city where the person pouring your coffee may have a cut on a record you love. Talent is everywhere, which makes it very easy to feel behind.
Comparison feels like information about where you stand. More often it is information about something you want and have not said out loud yet.
Worth tied to output
When your work is also your self, a quiet month feels like a verdict. A song that does not land feels like proof of something you were already afraid was true. Many people in music carry a running scoreboard in their heads and only feel okay on the days it is going up.
If that sounds familiar, the post on perfectionism and why good enough never feels like enough goes deeper into how worth gets fused to performance.
Touring and relationships
Touring creates two lives that do not share a calendar. On the road there is a role for every hour and a crew who understands the rhythm. At home, your partner has been running the household alone, and the reunion can feel more like a handoff than a homecoming.
Many couples fight in the first few days back and cannot say why. Usually both people are grieving something the other one cannot see.
Irregular income
Money in music tends to come in waves: a good run, a sync placement, then months of very little. Even people who are doing well can live in a low hum of scarcity, saying yes to every gig because the next dry spell feels close.
Over time that fear stops being a budget problem and becomes a way of living. It decides when you rest and makes a week off feel like a risk.
Substances
Alcohol is built into the job. It is in the green room, at the showcase, at the writers' round and the party after. For a lot of people a drink is how they come down after a set or get through a long night of networking.
I write more about this in the post on numbing out without realizing it. The point is not to shame anyone. It is to notice when something has quietly become the only way you know how to switch off.
The crash after a release
Months of work go into a record. Release day comes, the first numbers arrive, and a week later the world has moved on to the next thing. Many artists describe a hollow, irritable stretch after a release or the end of a tour, even when it went well.
That crash does not mean you are ungrateful. It is what happens when a nervous system that has been running on deadlines suddenly has nothing left to brace for.
Not just artists: the people behind the music
Agents, managers, label and publishing staff, and tour crew carry their own version of the same load. Your job is to make someone else's career work, often at the expense of your sleep, your weekends, and your relationships. You absorb the artist's moods, the promoter's demands, and the label's expectations, and you are expected to stay calm through all of it.
Crew members keep the band's schedule with less of the applause. Plenty of people on Music Row have built an identity around being the one who handles it, which makes it very hard to admit when you are not handling it.
Much of what I describe in the guide to therapy for high achievers applies here. The work is relational at its core, and so is the burnout. It usually helps more to look at how you learned to take care of everyone but yourself than to collect more stress tips.
Why insight from a podcast is not enough
Many people in music are already very self-aware. You have heard the podcasts and can name your attachment style at dinner. And still, the same things keep happening.
Insight is useful, but knowing why you overwork does not stop you from saying yes to the next run. Patterns that formed in relationships tend to change in relationships, which is why this kind of work happens between two people rather than inside your own head.
In therapy we pay attention to what happens in real time. What you feel when you imagine canceling a show. What you do when someone is disappointed in you.
I am not a passive listener. I will ask questions, point out what I notice, and sometimes push back, alongside a great deal of support. Feelings are treated as information in that room, not as problems to be managed away.
What therapy looks like around a touring schedule
As a therapist in Brentwood, Tennessee, I see people in person and through secure telehealth for clients across the state. Because my license is in Tennessee, telehealth sessions need to happen while you are in the state. For people who tour, that means we plan around your routing rather than pretending it does not exist.
I recommend weekly sessions when possible. Consistency matters more than perfect attendance, and a few practical decisions make a real difference:
Set a standing time before the tour calendar fills, and protect it the way you would protect a release date.
Use the session before a run to plan for the hard nights: who you will call, what you will do after the show, what you want to avoid.
Book a session within your first week home. That is often when the crash or the fights at home start, and it helps to have somewhere to bring them.
Expect gaps, and talk about them openly instead of quietly dropping out.
If you have never done therapy from your couch or a parked car, the post on what telehealth therapy in Tennessee is really like walks through how it works.
Frequently asked questions about therapy for musicians
Is there therapy specifically for musicians in Nashville?
Yes. Some therapists in the Nashville area focus on people in music, and Porter's Call is a local nonprofit that offers counseling to recording artists and their families. I worked as an agent in the music industry before becoming a therapist, and I work with people in performance careers, including music.
Can I do therapy while I am on tour?
Often, yes, with some planning. I offer secure telehealth for clients across Tennessee, and because licensure is state-based, sessions need to take place while you are in Tennessee. A standing weekly time when you are home, plus a clear plan for the weeks on the road, keeps the work going between runs.
What if I cannot afford weekly therapy?
There are good options built specifically for music people. Porter's Call, a Nashville nonprofit, offers counseling at no charge to recording artists and their families. MusiCares, the charity founded by the Recording Academy, helps people in the music industry with mental health care, addiction recovery, and financial assistance. My own fee is $165 per individual session or $85 per group session, and I provide superbills for clients with out-of-network benefits.
Will therapy make me less creative?
This is a fear I hear often from artists, and it makes sense. Therapy does not take your feelings away; it helps you understand them, which usually gives you more to work with. What tends to loosen is the panic and self-punishment around the work, and few people miss those.
Do I need to be in crisis to start?
No. Many people start therapy because something feels off, not because everything has fallen apart. Starting while you are tired or disconnected but still functioning often makes the work easier. If you are in crisis right now, call or text 988 for immediate support.
Getting support for musicians and music-industry professionals in Brentwood, TN
Music asks a lot of the people who make it and the people who keep it running. Therapy can be one hour in your week where you do not have to perform for anyone.
I offer in-person individual therapy and relational group therapy in Brentwood, TN, along with secure telehealth therapy for clients across Tennessee.
If you work in music and some of this landed close to home, reach out and we can talk about what support could look like around your schedule.
Emily LaRose, A/LPC-MHSP | (615) 200-8767 | emily@emilylarosetherapy.com
This article is for general information and is not a substitute for individual mental health care. If you are in crisis, call or text 988 in the U.S.
This guide is the starting point for our series on therapy for musicians and music-industry professionals.
About the author. Emily LaRose, A/LPC-MHSP, NCC, is a therapist in Brentwood, Tennessee. She holds a Tennessee license as a Professional Counselor, Mental Health Service Provider (temporary license) and an M.A. in Clinical Mental Health Counseling from Trevecca Nazarene University. She offers individual and relational group therapy in Brentwood and secure telehealth across Tennessee. Read more about Emily.
