In this episode of On Purpose with Jay Shetty, musician Noah Kahan shares his experiences with mental health struggles, anxiety, and the challenges that accompany creative success. Kahan discusses his journey with therapy and medication, addressing his long-held belief that suffering was necessary for artistic creation and explaining how treatment ultimately enhanced rather than diminished his creative process.
The conversation explores Kahan's relationship with external validation, his struggles with perfectionism and imposter syndrome, and how success has complicated his sense of self-worth. Kahan also reflects on the impact of making a documentary about his life, which included sharing difficult family stories and ultimately became a catalyst for healing and deeper connection with his loved ones. Throughout the episode, Kahan and Shetty examine the ongoing work of managing anxiety, redefining creativity, and building confidence from internal growth rather than external achievement.

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In conversation with Jay Shetty, Noah Kahan candidly explores his journey through mental health struggles, revealing how therapy, medication, and self-awareness have shaped his creative life and personal growth.
Noah emphasizes the crucial difference between attending therapy and truly engaging in it. Despite his parents' encouragement to seek help, he admits he spent years going through the motions without real commitment, keeping conversations surface-level and avoiding deeper pain. This led to cyclical behaviors like binge eating—what Noah describes as grooves in the brain formed from long-standing routines.
Meaningful therapy requires vulnerability and the right therapeutic match. After negative experiences with therapists who made him feel unsafe or dismissed, Noah finally found someone who created space for genuine progress. A significant insight from his therapist was questioning his attachment to pain—recognizing that clinging to suffering as part of his identity sometimes felt easier than facing the unfamiliar territory of happiness.
Despite personal and professional achievement, Noah describes feeling persistent depression that exists regardless of external circumstances. Whether in beautiful settings or amid career milestones, he wakes up some mornings miserable with no obvious reason, calling this chronic low mood the baseline of his daily life.
Self-doubt deeply affects his sense of worth, with validation or criticism easily swaying how he views himself. Body dysmorphia further complicates this internal landscape—not just about physical appearance, but rooted in a distorted, negative self-image established in childhood. Noah describes finally beginning to face these issues rather than "sprinting past the door" where these feelings live.
Jay Shetty commends Noah's vulnerability in discussing these issues publicly, noting how rarely men speak openly about such struggles. Noah emphasizes that acknowledgment from fellow artists who share similar battles offered genuine relief—a sense that others have been there too.
Noah long feared that medication for anxiety and OCD would dull his creativity or remove the emotional pain necessary for songwriting. However, as untreated mental health hindered his creativity—resulting in writer's block and inability to process thoughts—he realized this belief was counterproductive.
His turning point came when he decided his well-being mattered more than an imagined creative sacrifice. After treatment, Noah found he still experienced deep emotions and ideas, but they became more manageable. Letting go of the need to control the process enabled him to rediscover his voice in a healthier way.
Noah and Jay discuss how anxiety often arises from "anxious arrogance"—trusting negative thoughts as unquestionable truth without seeking evidence. This creates a self-fulfilling prophecy where worrying about failure actually increases its likelihood.
Noah has learned that the goal is not perfection, but rather to recognize, question, and approach the negative parts of oneself. By interrogating anxious thoughts and recognizing internal patterns, he can sometimes stop the spiral before it becomes overwhelming. His openness about this ongoing journey reflects the courage it takes to confront painful patterns and break free from myths that prevent healing.
Noah Kahan grew up believing that pain and suffering were requirements for creating meaningful art, citing examples like Van Gogh. This belief trapped him in self-harm cycles where he equated artistic merit with emotional turmoil, fearing that improving his well-being would diminish his creative edge. Only recently has Noah begun unlearning these ideas, discovering it's possible to make good music without living in constant pain.
Noah's growing career made him hyperaware that vulnerability itself was becoming a marketing tool. The commercialization of personal stories left him conflicted, with album rollouts and strategies contaminating creativity before songs were even finished. He reflects nostalgically on a time when his music was purely for himself, untouched by commercial concerns or external validation.
Creative paralysis forced both Noah and Jay to confront the pressure for perfection and approval. Jay describes how seeking to replicate technical success stifled authentic writing. Noah started writing music for his eight-year-old self, prioritizing joy and intrinsic motivation over commercial recognition. Through this, both realized that genuine expression, rather than perfection, is what truly connects with listeners.
To cope with creativity's unpredictable nature, Noah documents techniques and lessons from his most successful periods. He and Jay agree on the value of recording learnings from challenging times, believing that preserving these insights can provide confidence and guidance in future endeavors.
Noah Kahan's experience making a documentary about his life becomes a catalyst for emotional growth and connection, both internally and among his loved ones.
Noah admits one of his biggest regrets is sharing painful family dynamics—his parents' divorce, his father's brain injury—through song lyrics before having honest conversations with his family. While his parents have been consistently supportive, he wishes he had communicated privately first.
This regret led Noah to approach his next album and documentary with greater intentionality. He ensures his family fully understands what he's saying, why, and gives them opportunity to voice discomfort before anything reaches the public. As filming progressed, ongoing conversations balanced uncomfortable truths with respect, and Noah was prepared to halt the process if any family member felt too uncomfortable.
What began as a casual endeavor turned into an intense yet bonding family experience. Watching the finished documentary was one of the most stressful days of Noah's life but ultimately proved transformative. The family found themselves laughing, crying, and discovering new layers of connection, observing how they interact with fresh empathy.
Noah's sister argued that sharing their story might help others facing similar circumstances, reframing vulnerability as meaningful service. The vulnerability required to make the film proved therapeutic, helping everyone process pain and find deeper connection.
Making the documentary taught Noah about projection and assumption. He realized he'd been projecting his own shame and anxiety onto family members, fearing they would feel exposed when they actually found value in the experience. His father's simple response—"love it, buddy"—revealed that much of Noah's discomfort had been self-imposed.
This epiphany shifted Noah's ethical perspective on sharing family pain, helping him recognize that each family member experiences trauma differently and that it's not accurate to assume everyone's struggle mirrors his own.
The documentary created opportunities for conversations that might never have happened otherwise. Noah points to a deeply emotional porch exchange with his father, which allowed each to express difficult feelings usually left unspoken. The entire process enabled the Kahans to confront pain points, share gratitude, and forge lasting connections, leaving them feeling "super connected" and grateful for the opportunity to heal and grow together.
Noah reflects on how success, perfectionism, and the search for validation shape his creativity and self-worth.
Noah openly admits to being deeply moved by both praise and criticism, describing a cycle where positive comments boost his self-esteem and negative ones devastate him. He yearns to find equilibrium where he can believe in himself outside the volatility of external feedback, recognizing this pattern has roots in his childhood where approval shaped his sense of worth.
Success intensified these stakes, especially following the breakthrough of his album "Stick Season." The anticipation for each new milestone compounded his fear of failure, making it difficult to separate his own value from outcomes.
Kahan confesses a fear of losing the special moments success has brought, leading to hyperawareness that renders him unable to be fully present. Even reaching major milestones like performing at Fenway Park, he remains anxious that these moments might be ephemeral. He expresses jealousy at the idea of people who can be entirely present and content, rather than longing for the past or worrying about the future.
At the 2024 Grammy Awards, Kahan made winning the award his sole measure of success that night. Despite the hard work of everyone around him, he viewed loss as personal failure. He recalls projecting his intense desire for victory onto others, convinced his family and team would be disappointed—amplifying his own sense of letting everyone down, even as they remained proud and supportive.
Kahan and Jay Shetty explore how to process feedback in a way that nurtures rather than harms. Shetty describes embracing positive feedback with the heart while filtering criticism for lessons, stripping it of hurtful sting. He offers the analogy of filtering muddy water—keeping only the clean water that nourishes growth. Both discuss the difficulty of accepting praise deeply while not letting criticism overwhelm, aiming for a "middle path" that holds feedback with gentleness and discernment.
Recent experiences have led Kahan to reevaluate the sources of his self-worth. He finds pride not just in commercial success, but in the growth, hardship, and change he has undergone to create his latest album. His focus shifts toward nurturing the authenticity of his music and telling his story, rather than chasing validation through awards or metrics. This conscious reorientation prioritizes creative honesty and personal fulfillment over conventional measures of success, building worth from within regardless of the world's verdict.
1-Page Summary
Noah Kahan candidly explores his struggles with mental health, the journey through therapy, persistent depression despite achievement, medication’s impact on creativity, and the process of interrupting anxious thoughts. Through reflective conversation with Jay Shetty, Noah reveals the complexities and breakthroughs of managing anxiety and depression while maintaining a creative career.
Noah underscores that there is a profound difference between simply attending therapy and actively engaging in it. He shares that although his parents encouraged openness and seeking help, for years he was not truly committed—he went through the motions, kept conversations surface-level, and mostly said what was expected. As a result, the deeper issues remained unaddressed, creating cyclical behaviors like binge eating or struggling with addiction to avoid confronting pain. Noah likens these behaviors to grooves in the brain formed from long-standing routines, making genuine change difficult without intense self-examination.
Meaningful therapy, Noah asserts, requires vulnerability, commitment to change, and above all, the right therapeutic match. In his experience, feeling unsafe or having a therapist disrespect vulnerability created barriers, making it hard to trust someone new. Such negative experiences can be akin to a breakup—opening up only to be met with laughter, dismissal, or feeling misunderstood leaves one reluctant to try again. However, with a therapist who made him feel safe and asked probing, insightful questions, Noah experienced real progress, addressing not just surface symptoms but the entire constellation of emotional patterns.
A significant insight Noah received from his therapist was questioning his attachment to pain. Clinging to emotional pain as a core part of his identity sometimes felt easier than risking the unfamiliar territory of happiness or health. He recognized that letting go of familiar pain means facing the intimidating task of developing a new self-concept, which can seem scarier than remaining unhappy but “safe” in suffering.
Despite personal and professional achievement, Noah describes feeling persistent depression and disconnection. Whether in beautiful settings such as Joshua Tree or amid career milestones, he wakes up some mornings miserable with no obvious external reason (“the birds are fucking chirping… it’s beautiful outside… and I wish I could wake up and not be miserable for no reason”). This chronic low mood feels like the baseline of his daily life, sometimes escalating into more intense depressive episodes.
The struggle extends deeply into self-image and self-perception. Noah’s sense of self has long been shaped by hiding vulnerability to fit in and gaining acceptance, only to then feel isolated and disconnected at home. Music became his private outlet—his "special little buddy"—and provided a means of self-expression he struggled to find elsewhere. Yet, self-doubt stubbornly persists: validation or criticism easily sways his self-worth ("If someone says that I did a good job, I’m like yeah, I’m good. Someone says that I suck, I’m like, fuck, I suck.").
Body dysmorphia further complicates this internal landscape. Noah explains that while people think it’s about physical appearance, it’s more rooted in a distorted, negative self-image—how one sees and thinks about oneself, often established in childhood and hard to articulate. The challenge of compartmentalizing these feelings and then seeing them revealed, as in his documentary, makes the struggle feel raw and public. He admits uncertainty (“I have no idea—it’s just something present within me”) and describes approaching these issues with new caution and awareness, no longer sprinting past the “door” where these feelings live, but finally beginning to face and “brush it with my hand.”
Jay Shetty points out how rarely men discuss these issues publicly and commends Noah’s vulnerability, suggesting his openness may help others come to terms with their own feelings.
Noah also emphasizes the isolated nature of creative work under the burden of mental illness. The perceived link between self-expression and identity means that struggle in creativity feels like a struggle with oneself. For Noah, communicating this struggle to others, especially respected peers, was daunting. Yet, receiving acknowledgment from fellow artists or men who share similar battles offered genuine relief—a sense that others have been there too, and there is a path forward.
Noah confesses he long feared that medication for anxiety and OCD would dull his creativity or remove the emotional pain necessary for songwriting. He hesitated to seek help, worrying that healing would make ...
Mental Health, Anxiety, and Healing Through Therapy
Noah Kahan grew up believing that pain and suffering were requirements for creating meaningful art, citing the example of famous artists like Van Gogh who were thought to have needed anguish to produce masterpieces. This belief led Noah to think that health and happiness might make his music bland, trapping him in self-harm cycles where he equated artistic merit with emotional turmoil. He feared that improving his own well-being would diminish his creative edge and restrict his authenticity. Only recently has Noah begun to unwind these ideas, seeking ways to access genuine emotion and powerful work while prioritizing his mental health and learning that it is possible to make good music without living in constant pain.
Noah's growing career made him hyperaware that vulnerability itself, once authentic, was becoming a marketing tool for artists. The commercialization of personal stories left him conflicted, fearing that genuine feelings were being overshadowed by audience perception and the pressure to maintain a narrative of depth or sadness in his music. He describes how, even during the writing process, considerations about marketing and audience reception complicate his intentions, with album rollouts and strategies contaminating creativity before songs are even finished. Noah reflects nostalgically on a time when his music was purely for himself or perhaps his mom, untouched by commercial concerns or external validation.
Creative paralysis forced both Noah Kahan and Jay Shetty to confront the pressure for perfection and approval. Jay describes a period when he sought to replicate the technical success of his previous work, only to discover that this mathematical, strategic approach stifled authentic writing. Instead, both found greater resonance when they returned to their personal truths. Noah started writing music for his eight-year-old self, prioritizing joy and intrinsic motivation ove ...
Redefining Creativity: Debunking the Myth Of Suffering In Art
Noah Kahan’s experience making a documentary about his life and family becomes a catalyst for emotional growth, understanding, and connection—both internally and among his loved ones. Through this process, Noah wrestles with the challenges of unveiling difficult family dynamics, the risks and rewards of public vulnerability, and the surprising ways in which shared storytelling can heal.
Noah Kahan admits one of his biggest regrets is sharing painful family dynamics, such as his parents’ divorce and his father’s brain injury, with the world through song lyrics before having honest, direct conversations with his parents. He describes how he often found it easier to express himself through songwriting, but later realized that publicly marketing these stories to millions without first discussing them with his family may have left them feeling blindsided. His mom and dad have been consistently supportive and happy for his emotional openness, but he wishes he had communicated his feelings privately first, believing that would have been healthier and fairer for everyone involved.
This regret led Noah to approach his next album and the documentary with far greater intentionality about communication. He makes certain that his family fully understands what he’s saying, why he’s saying it, and gives them the opportunity to voice discomfort before songs or scenes reach the public. As filming progressed, what began as a small, contained project evolved into a documentary delving deeply into marriage, illness, insecurities, and body issues. The process necessitated ongoing conversations with his family—balancing uncomfortable truths with respect and ensuring all participants were comfortable and felt heard.
When screening the completed documentary, Noah was initially anxious about sharing it with his family. He hoped for easy approval but recognized the experience of watching the film would be emotional and challenging for them, as it revisited painful family experiences and forced them to see themselves through an outsider’s perspective. Through ongoing, open conversations, Noah was prepared to halt the process if any family member felt too uncomfortable, underscoring a commitment to mutual respect.
What began as a relatively casual endeavor turned into an intense yet bonding family experience. Noah describes how filming quickly moved from simple scenes—like playing guitar—to deeply intimate conversations, such as a pivotal moment on the porch with his father. Vulnerable moments emerged naturally, creating unexpected opportunities for genuine emotional connections.
Watching the finished documentary as a family was one of the most stressful days of Noah’s life but ultimately proved transformative. The family found themselves laughing, crying, hugging, and discovering new layers of love and humor in their own real-life interactions. The documentary allowed them to step back and observe how they interact, fostering gratitude and a sense of being “really good to each other.” For the first time, they could visualize one another’s experiences with fresh empathy, whether Noah’s dad’s journey with his injury or other shared challenges, deepening their collective bond.
Although uncomfortable at times—seeing oneself and family pain on camera, revisiting old wounds, or confronting awkward realities—the documentary showed the family how these moments could have value beyond personal discomfort. Noah’s sister argued that sharing their story might help others facing similar circumstances, reframing the act of vulnerability as a meaningful, collective service. Ultimately, the vulnerability and honesty required to make the film proved therapeutic, helping everyone process pain and find deeper connection.
Making the documentary taught Noah a powerful lesson about projection and assumption. He realized he had been projecting his own shame, anxiety, and worry onto family members, fearing they would feel used or exposed when, in reality, they were supportive and found value in the experience. Seeing his father watch the documentary and respond simpl ...
Vulnerability, Family, and Healing Through Documentary
Noah Kahan reflects candidly on the interplay between success, perfectionism, and the search for validation—revealing how these forces shape his creativity, achievements, and self-worth.
Noah Kahan openly admits to being deeply moved by both praise and criticism, describing a cycle where positive comments boost his self-esteem and negative ones devastate him. He yearns to find equilibrium—a state where he can believe in himself outside the volatility of external feedback. This yearning, he explains, has roots in his childhood, where approval at the dinner table shaped his sense of worth. As this pattern matured, it evolved into seeking professional validation: the responses to his work, both good and bad, have outsized influence.
Kahan describes how success can intensify the stakes, especially following the breakthrough of his album "Stick Season." The anticipation for each new milestone compounded his fear of failure, making it difficult to separate his own value from outcomes. He observes that this struggle existed even before public recognition—feeling both pride and loss over past songs, wondering if he’d ever top his previous work. As professional approval became more important, so did the internal pressure to sustain achievements.
Kahan confesses a fear of losing the special moments success has brought, leading to a hyperawareness that renders him anxious about their fleeting nature and unable to be fully present. Even as he reaches major milestones, like performing at Fenway Park or building a global career, he is anxious that these moments might be ephemeral and irrevocable. In his documentary, this is visualized through scenes of imposter syndrome, worry, and an inability to savor achievements because they're shadowed by the fear they won’t last or be repeated.
He expresses jealousy at the idea of people who can be entirely present and content—those who can fully embrace the moment without worrying about its context or the future. Instead, Kahan often finds himself longing for the past, or intensely aware that he cannot recapture previous joy, resulting in a sense of disconnection from accomplishment and satisfaction.
At the 2024 Grammy Awards, Kahan admits he made winning the award his sole measure of success that night. Despite the hard work of everyone around him and the thrill of nomination, he viewed loss as personal failure—feeling purposeless in the room once he lost.
Kahan recalls projecting his intense desire for victory onto others, convinced his family, friends, and team would be disappointed. This self-generated sense of collective longing amplified his disappointment and sense of isolation, making him feel as if he had let everyone down, even as they remained proud and supportive.
Despite rational awareness, Kahan's internal narrative made external validation the ultimate determinant of his self-worth. He notes how accolades, or the lack of them, can dominate one’s sense of value, even while recognizing the need to recalibrate his mindset.
Kahan, alongside Jay Shetty, explores how to process feedback in a way that nurtures rather than harms. Shetty describes embracing positive feedback with the heart, letting the appreciation fuel one’s sense of purpose without feeding ego or arrogance. Co ...
Managing Success, Perfectionism, and External Validation on Self-Worth
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