Navigating Creativity and Mental Health in Nashville’s Service Industry

My name is Jay Rutherford, and I’m thrilled to join the team at Music City Family Therapy. The name alone—Music City—hits home for me as someone who has spent 20 years in what I like to call the Nashville Service Industry. You could also call me a “Recovering Musician.”

Nashville is overflowing with dreamers—fledgling creatives, aspiring rock stars, award-worthy chefs, and late-night bartenders. Many grind away at their music careers by day, managing social media, writing songs, and chasing opportunities, only to spend their nights working in the city’s bustling bars and restaurants to make ends meet. And when the shifts end? They go out to drink and “network.”

The service industry and music industry in this town are deeply intertwined. On the surface, that’s a good thing—driving tourism, fueling entertainment, and keeping the city’s creative pulse alive. But beneath the surface, it can be a bad thing for mental health, especially when we don’t take care of ourselves.

The Double-Edged Sword of Creativity

I’ve lived both the healthy and unhealthy sides of this dynamic. On one hand, songwriting, creativity, and music were my sources of strength, spiritual connection, and emotional regulation. When I was in the flow, I felt connected to something bigger than myself.

On the other hand, music also became a breeding ground for codependency, anxiety, and self-worth struggles. Success felt like safety. Opportunities made me feel meaningful. Applause was my exhale.

The same was true in the service industry. I thrived on the rush of a busy shift, the pride of making people happy, and the satisfaction of doing my job well. But behind the scenes, I was in a constant state of fight-or-flight, bending over backward to please customers, managers, and chefs—often at the expense of my own peace and well-being.

The Cycle of Validation and Burnout

Musicians and service industry workers are cut from the same cloth. We love what we do. We see the purpose in our craft. But we also find ourselves needing validation—the applause, the tip, the recognition—to feel like we did a good job, like we matter. It becomes a toxic relationship with the very thing that gives us identity.

Maybe that’s why people call Nashville a “drinking town with a music problem.” The byproduct of an unregulated, traumatized creative type is often shame, codependency, and substance abuse. Over time, we forget why we cook, why we serve, why we play, why we create. We stop regulating ourselves and start trying to control others. We numb ourselves daily to avoid facing our shadows. And this cycle affects more than just us—it seeps into our families, friendships, bandmates, co-workers, and partners.

Worst of all, it buries our relationship with our inner child—the very part of us that picked up creativity in the first place.

Finding Your Way Back

If you’re a creative, a restaurant worker, a workaholic, a touring musician, or just feeling stuck in life, I want you to know: you’re not alone. I’ve been there. I know therapy works because it changed my life.

When I stopped trying to control others and started taking care of myself, I rediscovered who I really was. And in doing so, I learned how to love others without needing their validation. I found joy in being an artist again. I found joy in me again.

And you can, too.

If any of this resonates with you, I invite you to take the first step—whether it’s therapy, self-care, or simply acknowledging where you are. Your creativity, your passion, and your peace are worth it.