Music Mental Health Diary Entry Day 13: The Grind's Wearing Thin - Overworked and Underpaid

By Rich Steve Beck

Knackered doesn’t even cover it. You’re slogging through endless hours, eyes stinging from the screen, back aching from the chair, and for what? A pittance that barely covers the bills. Life’s a relentless treadmill when you’re overworked and underpaid. The days blur into nights, the tasks stack up, and the pay packet feels like a slap in the face. You’re running on fumes, chasing deadlines that don’t care about your sleep or your sanity. Musicians, producers—I’ve been there, hunched over a mix at 3 a.m., wondering why I’m breaking my back for peanuts. You feel it too, don’t you? That creeping sense that you’re pouring everything in and getting sod all back. It’s not just tiring—it’s soul-crushing. You’ve got rent due, groceries to buy, and a life you’d like to live, but the grind keeps you pinned. Something’s got to give. You can’t keep running this ragged forever. So, how do you claw your way out of this mess? Start by facing it square on. Acknowledge the weight. You’re not imagining it—it’s real, and it’s rough. But you’re not stuck. There are ways to ease the load, bit by bit, without waiting for the world to suddenly pay you what you’re worth.

What’s the heaviest bit dragging you down right now? Pin it down in your head.

Stop Saying Yes to Everything

The word “yes” slips out too easy when you’re desperate for cash or scared to lose a gig. You take on more than you can handle—another job, another late night, another rushed piece of work—and it piles up till you’re drowning. I’ve done it myself, nodding along to every request, thinking it’d keep me afloat. It didn’t. It just left me knackered and bitter, especially when the pay didn’t match the effort. You’ve probably been there too, saying yes to a project you knew would stretch you thin, just because you couldn’t see a no fitting in your mouth. But here’s the thing—you’ve got to learn to push back. Start small. Next time someone asks for a rush job with no budget, pause. Tell them you’ll check your schedule and get back to them. Give yourself breathing room to think. Then, if it’s not worth your time, say no. It’s not about being rude—it’s about guarding what little energy you’ve got left. You’re not a machine, and you don’t owe anyone your burnout. If they want your work, they can pay proper or wait. Over time, you’ll filter out the cheapskates and carve out space for jobs that don’t leave you feeling like a mug.

When did you last turn something down? Try it this week.

Set a Cut-Off Point

You’re knackered because there’s no end to it. Work bleeds into every hour—emails at midnight, tweaks at dawn, no proper break to call your own. I’ve caught myself still fiddling with a track when the birds are chirping outside, thinking one more adjustment would make it right. Spoiler—it never does, and you just end up more shattered. You’ve got to draw a line somewhere, or you’ll never switch off. Pick a time—say, 7 p.m.—and make it your wall. After that, the laptop shuts, the phone goes down, and you’re done. No sneaking back for “one quick thing.” It’s tough at first, especially when you’re used to pushing till you drop, but it works. A pal of mine started doing this after years of all-nighters. He reckoned he got sharper in the day because he wasn’t half-dead by evening. You give your brain a rest, and it stops feeling like every waking minute’s owed to someone else. The work’ll still be there tomorrow—let it wait. You’re not paid enough to sacrifice every shred of your life.

What’s your cut-off tonight? Stick to it.

Price Your Worth Proper

That measly pay’s half the problem. You’re slogging away for less than you deserve because you’re scared to ask for more. I’ve been there—undercharging for a mix because I thought it’d keep the gigs coming. It didn’t. It just left me skint and resentful. You’ve probably done it too, taking a job for pennies because you reckoned it’s better than nothing. But it’s not. It’s a trap. Start figuring out what your time’s worth. Look at what others charge for the same graft—mates, colleagues, anyone in your line. Then nudge your rates up. Not daft amounts, just enough to match the hours you’re putting in. Tell the next client straight: “This is my fee now.” If they balk, they can jog on. You’ll lose some jobs, sure, but the ones you keep will pay better and leave you less bitter. A friend of mine doubled his rate after years of scraping by. Took a few nos, but he’s sleeping easier now. You’ve got skills—make them pay what they’re worth.

What’s your time worth an hour? Work it out.

Chop the Day Into Bits

You’re knackered because it’s one long slog with no breaks. The hours stretch on, and you’re knackered before lunch. I’ve sat through days like that, trying to power through a track with no end in sight, and it’s a killer. You’ve got to split it up. Break your day into chunks—two hours on, half an hour off, whatever fits. Use that off time to eat proper, stretch your legs, or just stare at the wall. It’s not slacking—it’s keeping yourself sane. A lad I know started doing this when he was juggling too many jobs. Said it stopped him feeling like a zombie by teatime. You get more done when you’re not running on empty, and it gives you a breather to remember there’s a world outside the grind. Don’t let the day swallow you whole—cut it down to size.

How can you split your day tomorrow? Plan it out.

Say What’s Eating You

The anger’s building because you’re holding it in. You’re hacked off at the low pay, the long hours, but you don’t say it. I’ve kept quiet too, simmering over a rubbish gig fee till it ate me up. You’ve probably swallowed it down as well, thinking it’s not worth the fuss. But it is. Tell someone—your boss, a client, a friend. Keep it straight: “I’m working flat out and it’s not paying off.” I told a client once I couldn’t keep doing late nights for their budget. They upped it a bit—not loads, but enough to take the edge off. You don’t need to rant—just get it off your chest. It’s not about starting a row, it’s about letting them know you’re not a doormat. If they don’t budge, at least you’ve said your piece and it’s not rotting inside.

Who needs to hear it? Tell them this week.

Find a Bit of Joy Outside

Work’s all you’ve got when the pay’s rubbish and the hours are daft. You forget what it’s like to switch off and feel human. I’ve been stuck in that rut, living for the next job, no spark left for anything else. Musicians, producers—you know it too, when every spare minute’s chasing a tune that barely pays. You’ve got to carve out something for yourself. Doesn’t have to be grand—kick a ball about, read a tatty old book, cook something that smells good. A pal of mine started gardening on his days off after years of burnout. Said it was the only thing that stopped him going spare. You need a slice of life that’s not about the grind. It’s not selfish—it’s survival. Without it, you’re just a cog waiting to break.

What’s one thing you’d enjoy? Do it soon.

Quit Comparing Yourself

You feel worse because you’re looking at others who seem sorted. They’re raking it in, working less, living better—or so you think. I’ve fallen into that trap, eyeing up folks who looked like they had it made while I was skint and shattered. You’ve probably done it too, wondering why you’re stuck while they’re flying. Stop it. You don’t know their story—maybe they’re knackered too, just hiding it better. Focus on your own patch. What can you tweak to make your load lighter? A friend of mine quit measuring himself against the flash gits and started sorting his own hours. Said it saved his sanity. You’re not them. Work your own corner.

Who’re you eyeing up? Drop it.

Stack Some Cash When You Can

The underpaid bit stings more when there’s nothing in the bank. You’re one late cheque away from panic. I’ve lived that, counting coppers till the next job paid. You’ve got to build a buffer, even a tiny one. Next time a decent bit comes in, shove a few quid aside—ten, twenty, whatever you can scrape. It’s not about getting rich, it’s about breathing easier when the lean days hit. A colleague of mine started doing this after a rough patch. Said it stopped him feeling like every job was do-or-die. You give yourself a cushion. It cuts the stress when the pay’s late or low.

How much can you tuck away next time? Start small.

Walk Away When It’s Too Much

Some jobs aren’t worth the grief. You stick with them because you’re scared to lose the cash, but they drain you dry for nothing. I’ve clung to gigs that paid rubbish and left me raging, thinking I had no choice. You’ve probably done it too, holding on to a client who works you ragged for pennies. Know when to leg it. If the pay’s a joke and the hours are killing you, start looking for the door. Tell them you’re out—give notice if you must, but don’t linger. A friend walked from a nightmare job once. Took a hit, but he slept better and found something else quick. You don’t owe your soul to anyone. Cut loose when it’s breaking you.

What’s one job you could ditch? Weigh it up.

Ask for a Leg-Up

You’re not paid enough because no one knows you’re struggling. You keep it quiet, hoping it’ll sort itself. It won’t. I’ve stayed shtum too, grafting away while the bank stayed empty. You’ve got to ask—your boss, a client, someone who can shift things. Say, “I need more for this.” Keep it simple, no grovelling. I asked a client for a bump once after months of low rates. Got half what I wanted, but it was something. You don’t beg—you state it. If they say no, you’ve lost nothing, but at least they know you’re not daft. It’s your worth. Claim it.

Who can you ask for more? Do it soon.

Give Yourself a Day

You’re overworked because there’s no break in sight. The days bleed together, and you’re a wreck. I’ve pushed through weeks with no rest, thinking I’d catch up later. Never did—just got more knackered. You need a day—proper off, no work, no guilt. Pick it, block it out, and stick to it. Sleep in, faff about, do naff all if you want. A pal of mine started taking one day a week after nearly cracking. Said it was like hitting reset. You’re not a hero for burning out. Take a day. You’ll last longer.

When’s your next day off? Make it happen.

Tweak the Load

The work’s too much because you’re hauling it all at once. You don’t see a way to lighten it. I’ve lugged every job like it’s life or death, and it’s daft. You can shift things—pass a task to someone else, stretch a deadline, cut corners that don’t matter. Tell a client, “I’ll need an extra day for this.” Most won’t care if you’re straight about it. A friend started doing this when he was swamped. Said it stopped him drowning. You don’t need to carry the world. Trim it where you can.

What can you offload? Sort it this week.

Remember You’re Not Alone

It feels like you’re the only one knackered and skint. You’re not. Plenty are in the same boat, slogging away for less than they’re worth. I’ve felt that too, like I’m the mug while everyone else is sorted. But I’ve talked to folks—colleagues, friends—and they’re just as fed up. You’ve got company in this. Share a moan with someone who gets it. It won’t fix the pay, but it’ll ease the loneliness. A friend of mine griped with me over a brew once. Didn’t solve much, but it felt less grim. You’re not on your own. Reach out.

Who else feels this? Chat to them.

Keep One Eye on the Exit

You’re stuck because you don’t see a way out. The grind’s all there is. I’ve been there, thinking this is my lot forever. It’s not. Start looking—new jobs, side gigs, anything that pays better or works you less. Don’t leap yet, just scout. Musicians, producers—you’ve felt that itch to ditch a bad client for something saner. I’ve done it slow, sniffing out better rates while still grafting. You build a path. One day, you’ll step off this treadmill. Keep your eyes peeled.

What’s one step toward something better? Take it.

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Rich Steve Beck is a podcaster (PMFC Global TV), pro audio engineer/producer community leader (Produce Mix Fix and Conquer), full Music Producers Guild member, and pro mastering engineer who's worked with platinum-selling and Grammy-winning audio engineers.

He is also on a huge journey discovering about his own mental health and has felt a calling, as a large music community leader, to be an advocate for open mental health discussions across the industry.

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