Finding Stillness: How Ambient Music Helped Me Through Addiction, Anxiety, and Depression
For much of my life, I struggled to find stillness. My mind was constantly racing—sometimes with thoughts I didn’t want, other times with an overwhelming sense of unease. I turned to alcohol as a way to quiet the noise, to numb the weight of anxiety and depression that felt impossible to shake. What started as a temporary escape became a cycle I couldn’t break. It wasn’t until I found my way back to music—specifically ambient music—that I began to understand healing in a new way.
The Weight of Addiction
Addiction is deceptive. It doesn’t happen all at once—it creeps in slowly, disguising itself as relief, as control. For years, I convinced myself that alcohol was helping me manage my anxiety, when in reality, it was fueling it. The more I drank, the further I drifted from myself.
Anxiety and depression have a way of isolating you, making you feel like you’re stuck in a loop that no one else can understand. The drinking only made that loop tighter. At my lowest, I realized that I was trying to escape my own mind, but I didn’t know how to exist without the distractions I had built around me.
Rediscovering Sound as Healing
Music had always been a part of my life, but during my struggles with addiction, I lost my connection to it. The urgency of traditional songwriting—the need for structure, for lyrics—felt suffocating. I needed something that allowed me to just exist, something that didn’t demand anything from me.
That’s when I truly discovered ambient music. The first time I listened to Brian Eno’s Music for Airports, I felt something shift. The absence of a defined rhythm, the way the sounds stretched out into infinity—it was exactly what I needed. There was no expectation, no pressure, just a space to breathe.
As I started creating my own ambient music, I realized how much it mirrored my own recovery process. The layers of sound, the slow evolution of a piece over time—it all reflected the patience and presence that sobriety required. Ambient music taught me that healing wasn’t about erasing the past; it was about allowing things to unfold naturally, without force.
The Power of Deep Listening
One of the most valuable things ambient music has given me is the ability to truly listen. In the past, I used alcohol to drown things out—to escape discomfort. But ambient music does the opposite. It invites you to sit with the discomfort, to observe it without judgment. It allows you to recognize that emotions, like sound waves, rise and fall—they aren’t permanent.
This shift in perspective changed everything. Instead of resisting my anxiety, I started using music as a way to move through it. I experimented with vintage synths like the Moog Matriarch and Korg PS-3100, exploring textures that felt soothing rather than overwhelming. I built looping layers of sound, letting each note breathe, much like I was learning to do in my own life.
Music as a Meditation
As I deepened my sobriety, I found that making music became a form of meditation. The repetitive nature of looping, the way a delay pedal could stretch out a sound indefinitely—these elements mirrored the stillness I had been searching for. I began to understand that healing isn’t about distraction; it’s about presence.
Meditation had always been difficult for me in the traditional sense, but ambient music became my way in. I found solace in sound, using it to center myself when my thoughts felt too heavy. Floating in an expanse of synth waves, I could detach from the need to control everything and instead just be.
Creating for Others
The more I created, the more I realized that this music wasn’t just for me. People began reaching out, telling me that they used my music for their own moments of stillness—for studying, meditating, even coping with their own struggles. That connection reminded me why I started making music in the first place.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that healing isn’t linear. Some days are harder than others, and that’s okay. But finding something—whether it’s music, movement, or meditation—that brings you back to yourself is invaluable.
For me, that’s ambient music. It’s not just sound; it’s a space, a refuge, a reminder that even in stillness, there is movement.
Moving Forward
Now, over a decade into my sobriety, I look back on my journey with gratitude. I know that I wouldn’t be here without music, without the ability to lose myself in sound and find clarity in stillness. Ambient music helped me rebuild my relationship with myself, and it continues to be my guide.
Wherever you are in your own journey, I hope you find something that gives you space to breathe, to listen, and to simply be.
Until next time, Your fellow human just being.
Six Missing
Struggles & Sound: How Music Helped Me Through Addiction
Struggles & Sound: How Music Helped Me Through Addiction
Music has always been more than just sound to me—it has been a refuge, a guide, and, at times, a lifeline. When I look back at my struggles with addiction, I see the moments where music became more than just an outlet; it became a way to ground myself when everything else felt uncertain. It was through sound that I found a path forward.
The Weight of Addiction
Addiction doesn’t happen all at once—it creeps in, slowly entangling itself into the fabric of daily life. What starts as an escape can become a dependency before you even realize it’s happening. I found myself caught in that cycle, searching for relief from the anxiety, the restlessness, and the ever-present feeling of being unmoored.
For a long time, I didn’t acknowledge the weight of it. Addiction is insidious because it convinces you that you’re in control, that you can stop anytime you want. But the truth was, I had lost control, and I needed something to pull me out of the spiral.
Finding Solace in Sound
Music had always been there, but during my lowest moments, it took on a new role. It became a constant, something I could rely on when everything else felt uncertain. The repetitive patterns of looping, the slow evolution of soundscapes—these elements mirrored the process of healing. Each note, each delay, each subtle shift in tone reminded me that change was possible, that growth was happening even when it wasn’t immediately noticeable.
Ambient music, in particular, became a safe space for me. The expansiveness of it—the way it allows the mind to drift, to breathe—helped me navigate the chaos within. I found comfort in the slow movement of synth pads, the warmth of analog textures, the unpredictable yet soothing quality of vintage synthesizers like the Moog Matriarch and Korg PS-3100.
Creating as a Form of Recovery
As I started to heal, I turned to creation as a way of processing everything. The sounds I crafted weren’t just compositions; they were reflections of what I was experiencing—anxiety, release, stillness, and renewal.
Six Missing became, in many ways, a reflection of this journey. The project was never about making traditional songs but about creating a space where sound could serve as a form of meditation, both for me and for those who listened. I realized that if music could help me find moments of clarity, it might do the same for others navigating their own struggles.
Music as Therapy
There’s a reason sound therapy has been used for centuries—certain frequencies, textures, and rhythms can calm the nervous system, reduce stress, and even help rewire thought patterns. Though I didn’t set out to create “healing music,” I began to recognize its therapeutic qualities.
I started receiving messages from listeners who told me they used my music to cope with anxiety, to focus, to feel less alone. That connection reminded me that music is communal, that even in our most isolated moments, we are never truly alone.
Celebrating Sobriety & Moving Forward
This April, I am celebrating 11 years of sobriety. It’s a milestone that reminds me how far I’ve come and how music has played a crucial role in my recovery. Each year reinforces that healing is possible, and that creativity can be a powerful force in that journey.
Moving Forward
Recovery is not a straight path. It’s a continuous process of learning, of unlearning, of discovering new ways to exist in the world. Music remains a vital part of that process for me. It serves as a reminder that even in the most difficult moments, there is still beauty to be found, still space to breathe, still sound to anchor us.
As I continue creating, I do so with the hope that my music provides others with the same solace it has given me. Whether you’re listening for relaxation, meditation, or simply to escape the noise of the world for a while, I hope you find something in it that resonates.
Until next time, Your fellow human just being.
Six Missing
Resources for Support:
If you or someone you know is struggling with addiction, help is available. Visit SAMHSA’s National Helpline or call 1-800-662-HELP (4357).
If you’re experiencing thoughts of self-harm or suicide, reach out to the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline by dialing 988 or visiting 988lifeline.org. You are not alone.