DJ’ing & Mental Health | Tales of Stress, Alcohol, and Depression from a NYC Club DJ
My name is Mike Vosters. I’m a DJ based in NYC and founder of the Mental Health League — a social impact apparel company working to spark conversation around mental health and raise money for mental health charities. This is my story.
Following the tragic death of Avicii, many high-profile artists came out to speak about the harsh impact that DJ’ing can have on one’s mental health. While this story is one that needed to be told, it focused on the big names and their life on tour, but what about the everyday club DJ? We may not be on tour, but still face many of the same issues, and it’s not talked about enough.
I’ve been a DJ (mostly part-time) for 10 years. I’m not famous, not even close to it. I don’t go on tour, but am consistently booked in local bars and clubs, along with wedding and corporate gigs. It’s truly a blessing to have the opportunity to get paid to do something I love.
That being said, even though I’ve mainly been part-time, it hasn’t come without cost in the form of stress, burnout, and depression.
Starting Out – Stress, Alcohol, & Depression
I remember the first time I got booked in New York City. The gig wasn’t anything glamorous, just a simple gig in a loungey hotel bar, but I was on cloud nine. I spent days prepping my set and practicing until I had everything just right so nothing could go wrong.
Then I showed up and got a dose of reality.
I arrived early to setup. There was another DJ before me. I’d never used CDJs before, so I’d brought my controller (Traktor S2). When it was time to switch, there was no room on the booth for the controller, so I did the worst thing possible — put it on top of the CDJ and Mixer – and then proceeded to fumble around trying to figure out how to configure the input of the DJM-900. I was clueless. I looked like an idiot, and while the other DJ didn’t say anything, his facial expressions said it all.
You’re not a real DJ.
My heart starts racing. Stress begins to take over. I head to the bar to get a drink to calm my nerves. Then another drink. And another.
I’m tipsy by the time I go on.
I start going through my finely tuned set, but no one seems to care. I assume the worst. They hate me. My set is all wrong. So I go off script to other genres. Still nothing. They hate me. I bomb a transition. Then another. And another. That other DJ was right…
I’m not a real DJ.
I get another drink. Then another. The stress is unbearable. I want to be anywhere but here, but I still have another few hours to go. I’m not going to quit. I can’t let the guy who got me the gig down. I keep going. I try to not show my pain, but anyone paying attention would know, this guy is freaking out.
The manager comes over.
“Can you turn the volume down a bit? And can you go to something a bit sexier? One of the clients asked for it”, he tells me.
Fuck, he hates me. I’m so bad that he literally wants no one to hear me. And what the hell does he mean by something sexier? R&B? House? Regardless, I don’t have a crate for it. So I take a wild guess and switch it up. He doesn’t come over again, so it must be okay. Or he just realizes that I have no clue what I’m doing and doesn’t want to deal with it right now.
The gig ends.
I pack up and then go to say goodbye to the manager. I’m 100% certain that he’s going to fire me on the spot, but he seems to have no clue that I had absolutely bombed. He tells me, “Good job, I’ll see you next week”. I head home grabbing fast food along the way. I get a few hours of sleep. I wake up and head to my day job. I can’t shake the defeat. It’s all I think about.
I’m depressed.
The voice in my head is relentless the rest of the week – “YOU AREN’T A REAL DJ! GIVE UP! YOU ARE AN EMBARRASSMENT! YOU’LL NEVER BE ABLE TO DO THIS!”
But I don’t give up.
I go back to the gig week after week. I improve. I get more comfortable on my S2, I expand my repertoire, I learn new transitions. I come super early and learn how to use CDJs – albeit I’m incredibly sloppy – but that’s still better than the shame I felt for bringing my own controller. Things are looking up until…
I get a new gig elsewhere.
I roll up to the venue as stressed as I was the first day at the hotel bar. I’m going to bomb I just know it. It’s a lively brunch spot. They want me to play Oldies, and then get people dancing as they finish up with brunch.
Uh oh, they don’t have CDJs, only Technics. Luckily I brought my controller, and even though no one seems to care, I know that everyone there knows I’m not a real DJ.
I get started. Everyone’s eating brunch and not paying attention to me. No one is acknowledging the music. I hastily change genres, trying anything just to get any sign of approval. I get sloppy. I start drinking…a lot. The stress is unbearable. After brunch, no one is dancing. They all leave. Once again, I’m going to get fired, I just know it. And once again, I don’t. I go back week after week, learn how to use Technics. I improve my sets. I continue to get more gigs.
This exact cycle goes on for approximately two years — probably more. I take any gig I can get regardless of pay and I end up spinning 100 gigs one year, all while having a day job because the pay wasn’t even close to enough to pay the bills. Needless to say, I wasn’t sleeping much, was too tired to work out, and was eating fast food late night and grease in the morning to help with the hangovers. I kept drinking heavily at gigs – it’s free so why not? My tolerance was at an all-time high, far higher than it was in college. I’m essentially immune to Jameson. And while the stress of performing had subsided, the stress of getting harassed with requests or just dealing with drunk people had not.
On top of all that, my social life had took a hit. I just didn’t have the time. Yes, I built some great relationships with other DJs and those working at the venues. Yes, I was constantly going to parties and had people approaching me at gigs. Yes, my friends often came out to my gigs. I was having fun, making memories. But most of the interactions were surface level. I spent the majority of my time isolated in the corner of the venue behind a booth staring at my laptop trying to read the room. It was rewarding, but looking back it was lonely.
The result? I was constantly depressed.
Despite the glaring signs, I didn’t realize that DJ’ing was the problem. I didn’t even realize how down I am a lot of times. And when I did, I assumed there was just something with me and clinically speaking, there was.
And then burnout kicked in.
About six years in, I just couldn’t do it anymore. I burnt out. While my day job played a huge part in this, DJ’ing was the icing on the cake. Despite taking fewer gigs, the drinking, not sleeping, poor diet, and isolation still took their toll.
I decided to take time off.
I had saved some money and knew I needed to make a change. I quit my day job and DJ’ing. I went abroad for a bit, stopped drinking, and started going to bed early, working out, and eating healthfully. Making healthy choices was a game changer.
I was happy.
Once in a while, I went out to have a few drinks and the next day felt the fog of depression. Holy shit! That whole alcohol being a depressant thing was no joke.
Months later, I returned to New York and while I hadn’t planned on DJ’ing anymore, I started getting booked and needed the money, so I was off to the races again.
DJ’ing wasn’t the problem. My lifestyle choices were.
While I had blamed DJ’ing for my depression, upon starting up again, I realized that DJ’ing wasn’t really at fault — I was. I had chosen to not take care of myself. I had chosen to drink excessively, not sleep (or even nap), not work out, not eat right, and not to invest in my social life.
I had zero self-care.
Armed with a new self-awareness, I implemented an array of self-care routines to keep myself healthy and happy while still gigging constantly.
Implementing a Self-Care Game Plan
Everyone’s game plan will be different, but every DJ should have one. Here’s what I’ve been doing. It’s nothing breakthrough, but it doesn’t have to be.
- Don’t Drink…or at least Drink Less | Upon starting out, I tried not drinking at all, and found myself waking up feeling refreshed. It was a game changer. As time has gone on, I’ve gotten a bit less strict on this now only drink at some gigs, and when I do drink, limit consumption to no more than 2-3 drinks (which relative to what I had been drinking is low). While I’m generally not stressed about performing anymore, I find it helpful to be a bit tipsy. It loosens me up and gets me closer to being in the mindset of my audience. It also helps take the edge off of constant requests for “Old Town Road”, Drake, Taylor Swift, or whoever else is on trend.
- Take Sunday and Monday Off | I’ve found that the impact of not sleeping really comes two nights after. So if you gig Friday and Saturday late night, you’re gonna be exhausted on Sunday, and likely Monday. While I always slept all day Sunday, with my day job I’d have to be at work bright and early Monday morning. Now I work for myself, so I sleep in on Monday and then get to work in the afternoon and early evening.
- Bring Healthful Snacks To Gigs | After a late night, it only makes sense to be hungry, and the only things available at that time are fast food. So I’ve started bringing snacks to gigs so avoid late night cravings. Protein bars and nuts are my food of choice.
- Work Out | While I’m still not a fitness junkie by a long shot, I’ve committed to getting out and breaking a sweat at least 3 times a week if not more, and often I try to do it on Saturdays between night gigs. Running is my exercise of choice, and while it’s certainly physically beneficial, the impact it has on my mood and general mental state has been the real game changer. With the prior routines, it makes it much easier to make this happen.
- Schedule Social Time | Just because you’re “going out”, doesn’t mean you’re being social. I now make sure to schedule social time with close friends new and old to balance the party life with deep, meaningful conversations. And once again, since I’m doing all of the above, I have the energy to do it.
In Conclusion — Take Care of Yourself & Those Around You
I love DJ’ing and don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully give it up. It’s in my DNA, as I’m sure it is part of yours. But we need to take care of ourselves and keep one another in check. The above was with me only doing this part-time. Now that I’ve transitioned to being near full-time I have the added pressure of booking enough gigs and marketing myself, which makes it even harder. So let’s start talking, start checking in with other DJs to see how they’re holding up. After self-care, community is the second best thing you can do for your mental health.
