Day 106 - Music in Leadership and Recovery

Blog #6

9/8/2025

Why Learning Music Keeps You Sharp—In Recovery and in Leadership

When I was 38, I started learning piano. Now, at 46, I can see how much that decision has shaped not just my recovery, but also how I approach leadership and business.

Recently, I recorded myself playing Still D.R.E. by Dr. Dre (video below). Beyond the fun of learning a hip-hop classic, I’ve discovered that piano—and music in general—is a serious tool for keeping the brain sharp, calming the spirit, and strengthening skills that matter in both personal recovery and professional leadership.

🧠 Music and the Aging Brain

Science shows that playing an instrument engages both hemispheres of the brain, creates new neural pathways, and slows down age-related cognitive decline. For me, it’s not just theory—I feel it.

• When my thoughts spin out of control, piano calms me almost instantly.

• When cravings from alcoholism creep in, music steadies me.

• When I feel spiritually disconnected, playing is like prayer in motion.

Music has become part of my recovery toolkit, but it’s also a blueprint for any leader who wants to stay sharp in an ever-changing business environment.

🎶 Instruments as Teachers for Life and Leadership

🎹 Piano: Complex Thinking & Emotional Regulation

• Requires both hands doing different tasks at once—strengthening multitasking, focus, and memory.

• Encourages emotional expression and stress relief.

• Builds resilience: mastery comes only through repetition, patience, and perseverance.

🎸 Guitar: Agility & Social Connection

• Sharpens dexterity and adaptability.

• Fosters creativity and improvisation—skills leaders need in uncertain markets.

• Portable and approachable, making it a natural bridge for building connections.

🎻 Cello: Discipline & Deep Listening

• Demands posture, breath, and control—reminding leaders that strong presence matters.

• Trains patience and precision.

• Resonant tones teach the value of listening deeply and responding with empathy.

💼 What This Means for Leaders

As a management consultant, I often encourage aging leaders to think about how they can remain learners. Too often, executives hit a plateau and stop sharpening their skills. Music offers:

• Sharper cognition: Keeps problem-solving, memory, and adaptability strong.

• Faster learning curve: Musicians process and retain new information more quickly.

• Better communication: Active listening skills developed in music directly improve leadership conversations.

• Stress management: Music reduces cortisol, protecting leaders from burnout.

• Social intelligence: Group lessons or ensembles remind leaders how to collaborate, share, and celebrate wins together.

The bottom line? Leaders who invest in lifelong learning—whether through formal education, coaching, or yes, even music lessons—stay relevant, resilient, and relational.

🎵 Recovery, Leadership, and Spirituality Intertwined

For me, music is more than brain science or leadership training—it’s deeply personal. It helps me maintain sobriety, calms my anxiety, and creates a spiritual connection with God. At the same time, it sharpens the skills I need as a consultant, coach, and leader.

That’s the beautiful intersection: music isn’t just art, it’s therapy. It’s training. It’s growth. Whether you’re leading a company or leading yourself out of addiction, learning an instrument is a practice worth pursuing.

📹 Here’s me playing Dr. Dre’s “Still D.R.E.” on piano. Proof that music—no matter the genre—can be a tool for focus, fun, and freedom.

🚀 A Note for Leaders

If you’re a leader navigating change, growth, or even recovery, remember this: the sharpest leaders are lifelong learners. They seek out new challenges, develop resilience, and never stop growing. Music is one way to keep that edge, but there are many.

👉 At ST Consulting, I help leaders and organizations sharpen not just their strategies, but also their mindset. If you’re ready to stay relevant, resilient, and relational in today’s world, let’s talk.

Day 84 - The 20 Minute Story of My Life

Day 84 – The 20 Minute Story of My Life

Blog #5

This week I was asked to lead a recovery meeting — which basically means telling my entire life story in about twenty minutes. Imagine standing in front of close to 100 strangers and trying to condense thirty-plus years of pain, lessons, and hope into a single talk. No pressure, right?

So, I’ve been reflecting on where it all began…

Falling in Love at Thirteen

I was thirteen years old when I met the love of my life. Not a girl, not a crush, not even a human being.

Her name was alcohol.

It started one summer night when a couple of my neighborhood buddies and I decided to steal a half-gallon of Idaho Silver Vodka from my friend’s mom. We snuck out around midnight, and one by one, we took turns chugging that awful clear liquid.

The first swig hit me like gasoline — and my stomach agreed, because I promptly threw it back up. But something strange happened after a few more attempts.

A warmth spread from my chest down to my stomach, and it felt like God Himself was wrapping me in the most heavenly hug I had ever experienced. It was more than euphoria. It was arrival.

In that moment, alcohol became my solution. My shield. My partner. My new identity.

The Broken Pieces Before the Bottle

Looking back now, I can see why alcohol had such a grip on me from the very beginning. At that time in my life, I was missing some very basic human needs.

Psychologist Abraham Maslow described these in his Hierarchy of Needs (1943), a framework still used today in psychology and leadership studies. At the bottom are things like food, shelter, and safety. As those are met, we crave belonging, love, esteem, and eventually, self-actualization — the fulfillment of our true potential.

At thirteen, my “safety” and “love and belonging” buckets were bone dry.

My seventh-grade year had been a nightmare. Most of my closest friends went to the other middle school in town, and I was left to start over. On day one, I learned a harsh lesson: the only kid I’d ever gotten into a fight with happened to be the little brother of the most popular ninth grader — who also happened to run with the jocks and an up-and-coming gang.

That year was filled with hallways where I felt hunted. Fights on the blacktop. Fear in my stomach every time I saw that group of boys. I knew I wasn’t invincible anymore.

My only escape was my first girlfriend. She gave me the things I was missing: love, belonging, acceptance. For a while, she was my lifeline. But, being twelve and foolish, I sabotaged that too.

I lied. I cheated. I got caught. And one night at a church dance, I watched her dump me in front of everyone and then dance with other boys while I stood on the sidelines like a fool.

That was the night my heart shattered for the first time.

Darkness and Desperation

Back then, no one talked about mental health. Especially not for boys. The message everywhere — from school to family to movies to rap music — was the same: Toughen up. Be a man. Don’t cry. Don’t feel.

But the truth was, I was crumbling. I battled depression and anxiety I didn’t have words for. I felt alone, hopeless, worthless.

I remember stealing a pistol from my dad’s gun cabinet one night. Loading the chamber. Putting it to my temple. Wanting more than anything to pull the trigger.

I don’t know why I didn’t. Maybe fear of eternal consequences. Maybe some shred of hope I didn’t even recognize at the time. But I survived that moment.

And then, I met her — alcohol.

She swept me off my feet in the middle of all that pain. She gave me courage, numbness, belonging. From that first drunken night, I was hooked. I drank daily. And I worshiped her for the next thirty years.

Understanding the Hook

Research shows that genetics plays a huge role in addiction. According to the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism (NIAAA), children of alcoholics are about four times more likely to develop alcohol dependence than those without a family history.

Unfortunately for me, both of my grandfathers were alcoholics. So the hook was in me long before I ever took that first drink.

Alcohol became my medicine. My shield against fear. My way to sleep. My way to belong. And, eventually, my prison.

84 Days Without Her

Fast forward to today — I’m 84 days sober.

It’s not my first attempt, but it’s the most serious one yet. Over the past three years, I’ve been clawing my way toward recovery, sometimes slipping, sometimes falling, but always learning. Each slip taught me something new about myself — usually that I wasn’t desperate or willing enough yet.

Today, I’m desperate. Today, I’m willing.

My recovery isn’t just about meetings or working the 12 steps (though those are crucial). It’s also about prayer, scripture study, exercise, service, human connection, time with my family, and building a daily routine that keeps me grounded. Routine saved me when I was behind prison walls, and routine is saving me now.

I’m rebuilding my confidence, facing the demons that used to drive me to drink, and slowly learning to love myself in ways I never thought possible.

Why I Share This

When I stand up this week to give that 20-minute version of my life, I’ll be sharing it with close to 100 people who may see themselves in my story.

Maybe you see yourself here, too.

Addiction looks different for everyone, but at its core, it’s about trying to fill an empty space. For me, that space was love, safety, and belonging. Alcohol filled it — until it nearly destroyed me.

If you’re walking a similar road, I want you to know: you’re not alone. There’s hope. There’s another way forward.

If you’d like to be added to my email list — which includes notifications when new blog posts go live as well as my newsletter on insightful business management tools — you can request to be added at scott@stconsultingllc.org.

And if you’re looking for another way to explore recovery through story, check out my novel, The First Thirty Days — a fictional journey into the struggle and hope of early sobriety. It’s available on Amazon here: The First Thirty Days.

📚 References & Resources

• Maslow, A. H. (1943). A Theory of Human Motivation. Psychological Review, 50(4), 370–396.

• National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism. (n.d.). Alcohol Use Disorder: A Comparison Between DSM–IV and DSM–5. NIAAA.gov

Day 63 - A Week in Review

Blog #4: Sucker Punches, Sobriety, and Surprise Adventures

What a week.

There were highs worth celebrating, and one particular low that felt like a sucker punch to the gut—the kind that can send any alcoholic spiraling down a rabbit hole I’ve worked too hard to stay out of. But before we get into that... let’s start with something a little lighter.

It’s Sunday—my favorite day of the week. I’m a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and recently started attending a new ward here in Keizer, Oregon. I’m still the new guy, figuring out names and faces, but I’m slowly finding my way. I even noticed that our neighbors attend the same ward. I was hoping to spot them today but had no luck. Hopefully next week I can say hello and awkwardly initiate what will hopefully become a friendship (I mean, what’s more bonding than the guy-next-door who talks about recovery and day-trading?).

Church today was beautiful. Two women were the main speakers, and I found myself singing along with the congregation, quietly grateful for the peace that washed over me during the sacrament. As an alcoholic, pride is a dangerous luxury I can’t afford. Humility is my lifeline, and church helps me stay grounded in the bigger picture.

Recovery teaches me to reflect—not just daily, but weekly. Every Sunday, I take inventory: What went well? What didn’t? Did I show love? Do I owe anyone an amends? Am I holding onto a resentment? If I am, I get curious and start writing about it. Most of the time, I discover that resentment is just guilt wearing a disguise. And if I don’t deal with it? It’ll fester. Resentment leads to relapse. Relapse leads to insanity. And insanity leads to hell.

Let’s rewind to earlier in the week. I trade stock and crypto when I have time, and let’s just say… the market didn’t exactly play nice. I made a poor trade that left me deep in the red. Painful, but recoverable.

Then Tuesday hit. Wham. That’s when I received a rejection email from California Baptist University for their PhD in Leadership Studies program. I had disclosed my criminal history and submitted an additional essay explaining the who, what, and why of my past. I poured my heart into it. I shared not just what I did, but who I’ve become since—and the path I walk today.

But they passed. It stung. I honestly thought I had a chance. It felt like it was God’s plan... apparently, it was just my plan. God might have a different door waiting. In fact, that same day I got a message from a potential employer about a job opportunity—and later in the week, another interview with a second company. Both roles are based out of Portland, and I feel confident that my skills line up. If something comes of it, great. If not, I’ll keep building ST Consulting with even more drive and ambition.

Despite the setbacks, the week had its highlight: I celebrated 60 days of continuous sobriety on Thursday, July 24th.

I attended an in-person meeting in Salem, sat beside Michelle, and shared a bit of my story with the group. Being surrounded by others battling their own demons reminded me that I’m not alone. This disease thrives in isolation, and it’s always whispering, “Stay home. Hide. You’re not good enough.” But every day, I choose to ignore that voice.

And that same Thursday, after the meeting, I did something I haven’t done in a while—I asked for help.

There’s a guy named Ken who shares at meetings I regularly attend. I’ve always appreciated his wisdom and sincerity, and I knew he was open to sponsoring. I mustered up the courage, approached him, and asked if he’d be my sponsor. He said yes. We met for coffee Saturday and got to know each other. He gave me my first two assignments:

1. Write a list of all the ways I tried to control my drinking (I already know this list is going to be embarrassingly long).

2. Write down all the problems alcohol has caused in my life (also a very long list, but cathartic nonetheless).

I’m doing the work because I want the peace and clarity I see in my sponsor. If I want what he has, I need to do what he does.

Now back to that rejection...

Yes, it hurt. Yes, I wanted to drink. I wanted to escape, get angry, and throw a digital tantrum all over social media. But instead, I called my support system, vented to people who understand, and let it go. I reminded myself that if this wasn’t God's plan, something else will come. I’ve already found another program at George Fox University—this one focused on a Doctorate in Business Administration with an emphasis in Data Analytics. If it works out, great. If not, I’ll keep moving forward.

I’m not looking for easy anymore. I’m looking for purpose.

And today, that purpose starts with staying sober, telling the truth, being kind to myself, and saying yes to whatever adventure Michelle has planned for us this afternoon.

Day 53 - The Battle Within

Blog Post #3: Resilience in the Face of Resistance

This week has been busy, to say the least — and honestly, I’m grateful for it.

I had the opportunity to attend the Keizer, Oregon Chamber of Commerce Greeters Breakfast, as well as a few other networking groups around town. Getting the name of ST Consulting out into the community is an exciting step forward, and I’ve already been able to pitch our services to business owners I’ve never met. That alone feels like a win.

So far, I haven’t been faced with the temptation of alcohol at any of these events — but I know that day will come. When it does, I’ll be ready. As long as I keep focusing my energy in the right places, I can stay grounded.

But not every moment this week was smooth sailing.

Last Sunday, I nearly had a breakdown. The weight of depression crept in like a storm, and by midday, it was almost too much for my heart and soul to bear. I was in a deep funk I couldn’t shake. As an alcoholic/addict, I know just how quickly our minds and bodies can turn against us. All day long, my thoughts whispered and then screamed:

You’re not good enough.
You’ll never succeed.
This will never work out in Oregon.
You’re a failure — no one wants to do business with you.

The lies were loud, relentless, and convincing. I cried. I begged God to carry me. I pleaded with myself just to hang on. My addiction offered me its usual escape: Just one drink. A little Kratom. Just this once.

But I know better now. Every time I thought about getting in my car and heading to the store, I forced myself to play the tape all the way through.

I pictured myself buying my usual mix — 12 Monaco’s and a couple Kratom shots. I imagined sitting in my apartment, chugging it all down. And yes, I could almost feel the temporary relief — that short-lived numbness. But then came the second part of the tape: guilt, shame, anxiety, depression, and cravings that spiral like a cyclone, ready to destroy everything I’ve worked for — and anyone who got in the way.

That vision was enough to keep me sober. I made it to a recovery meeting, and I made it through the day.

This week, I’m still sober. That’s a miracle. And I thank God for that — and for the loving people around me, especially my fiancée, who continues to be one of my greatest supporters.

What I’ve learned is this: using only offers a temporary escape from discomfort. But the cost is far too high — it always leaves me worse off, emotionally and mentally. I’ve come to realize that my greatest battle is with my own thinking, and understanding that has helped me keep fighting — and winning — one day at a time.

When I first got sober, I believed alcohol and drugs were my only problem. I was wrong. Sobriety is just the beginning. The real work began when I had to confront the pain, trauma, and mental health challenges I had buried for over 30 years. Taking away the substances exposed a broken emotional landscape — one that couldn’t be ignored any longer.

For years, I couldn’t understand why other people in recovery seemed to be glowing with joy while I still felt like I was barely holding it together. The truth? I hadn’t addressed my mental health.

Three years ago, I made the decision to change that. I sought out doctors, tried different medications, committed to counseling, and opened up in meetings. I’ve done the hard work — and I’m still doing it. Prioritizing my mental health has been a game changer, and now I’m starting to understand what those other sober alcoholics meant when they said: “Life has never been better.”

I still have a long way to go, and I know it won’t always be easy. But I also know, deep down, that it will absolutely be worth it.

Day 46 - The Past

When the Past Shows Up

This week has had its rough moments, to say the least.

I recently applied to the PhD in Leadership Studies program at California Baptist University. As part of the application, I had to list any prior arrests or convictions. Unfortunately, that’s not a short list for me. Over the last ten years, I went from having a completely clean record to accumulating multiple charges: two DUIs, two battery charges, two for disorderly conduct, one misdemeanor assault, and the one that changed everything—one felony aggravated assault with a deadly weapon. Most of these occurred within a chaotic three-year period of my life.

From the age of 34 to 37, I was living in Nampa, Idaho, while my daughters were growing up in Avon, Connecticut. That distance was hard—on them, on me—and I coped in all the wrong ways. I also carried with me some beliefs from my early life that I now know were rooted in trauma and ego. I grew up believing it was better to be feared than loved. I spent years training in martial arts and normalized fighting—whether in bars or on the street—as long as it was “mutual.” In my mind, it was just sport. But the truth? It was all about ego, pain, and control.

On November 26, 2013, everything changed.

I had just closed a deal to bring in a business partner to my freight brokerage firm, and I was set to make $40,000 in cash. I should’ve been celebrating responsibly. Instead, I found myself alone at The Busted Shovel, a bar in Meridian, drinking and chatting with the bartender—one of the only people who still enjoyed my company back then.

Late into the night, a group of five guys and one woman walked in. The woman smiled at me as I was heading to the bathroom, and one of the men said something disrespectful. I took the bait. We argued. I told them I’d fight all five, one by one, out front.

This wasn’t new behavior for me. I had done this sort of thing before—more than once ending up in the hospital after being jumped. I can’t even explain why I thought that was okay, but it’s how I coped with my inner chaos. Three years prior, I had been a District Director for a national telecom company. I had money, a great marriage, beautiful kids… and I was on top of the world. But alcoholism was silently tearing it all down.

That night, the bartender I’d befriended asked me to leave. “Come on, man, there are five of them and one of you. Do me a favor and walk away.” I respected him, so I left.

But outside, who I thought were the same guys, jumped in a truck, shouting and flipping me off. I believed they were going to follow me, so I turned around and got behind them. They kept brake-checking me, making me angrier and angrier. Eventually, they pulled into a neighborhood, parked, and jumped out. One of them ran toward a house. I knew then they were trying to trap me.

I tried to reverse, but when I looked up, one of them was charging my car with a bat. I swerved and escaped. As I drove off, he smashed my back window with the bat. I went home… but instead of letting it go, I drank more and convinced my girlfriend to drive me back to their house to “get revenge.”

I never made it there. We were pulled over. I was arrested and later charged with two felonies.

Despite the fact that no one was physically hurt and the supposed “victims” never showed up to testify, I still ended up pleading to one felony. I served four years—most of it behind bars. But in that time, I stopped playing the victim. Prison forced me to look at my life with clear eyes. I finally saw the insanity of my behavior. I finally saw the trauma I was still reacting to—and how unhealed pain had led me down a very dark road.

Fast forward more than a decade.

Today, I am sober. I am no longer on probation or parole. I own a business. I’m rebuilding. But the past still shows up.

A few days ago, an admissions counselor from CBU contacted me. Because I marked “yes” to the question about past convictions, I now need to submit a personal statement and supporting documentation. I understand. But it still stings. It’s a reminder that I am different than most applicants.

That wasn’t the only punch in the gut this week.

Someone reached out to me on LinkedIn with an incredible opportunity to take over an existing book of business in the insurance and financial services industry. We had a great conversation today. I was genuinely excited. But then came the question: “Will anything in your background prevent you from being licensed?”

I answered honestly. And just like that, the conversation ended. Despite my qualifications, the door slammed shut—ten years later, my past still has that kind of power.

But I’m not bitter.

I don’t let moments like this knock me down anymore. I see them for what they are—reminders that I don’t run the show. God does. And when one door closes, I have to believe that He’s opening another one somewhere else.

I can’t afford to be resentful. Resentment is a luxury I lost long ago. What I can do is stay on the path I’m walking. Keep building my business. Keep giving my will and my life over to a power greater than myself. And keep writing—to heal, to share, and maybe, to help someone else feel a little less alone.

If you’re in recovery, or struggling to get there, just know this: You are not your past. You are not your worst decision. And if you're still breathing, there’s still time to change the story.

Day 44

My Recovery Journey: Finding Balance One Day at a Time
By Scott Young

My name is Scott Young. I’m 46 years old and currently live in a small town in Western Oregon. I’m the founder of ST Consulting, LLC—a business I started just over two years ago to help small and medium-sized companies grow and succeed.

Originally from Nampa, Idaho, I relocated to Oregon to be with my fiancée, Michelle. In the midst of all this life change, I’ve also begun walking the path of recovery—and let me tell you, it’s not easy.

I’ve attempted sobriety before, and while I’ve had some success with 12-step programs, I’ve never been able to hang on long enough for long-term recovery to truly take root. Time and again, I’ve tried to play the director of my own life, calling the shots and steering the wheel. But that hasn’t worked for me. Not even close.

Now I know—I have to surrender. I have to give my will and my life over to the care of God in order for things to fall into place the way they’re meant to.

The Four Pillars of My Recovery

My approach to recovery is grounded in four key areas of health: mental, physical, spiritual, and emotional.

I work on each of these every day, because I’ve learned that like muscles, they grow stronger with consistent attention and the right fuel. When nurtured daily, these four components start to work together in harmony—producing more growth than any one of them could alone.

This synergy is what helps me heal and build something solid and lasting.

I’m Not the “Perfect” Example—and That’s the Point

Let me be clear: I’m not an expert on sobriety. Or at least, not the kind you usually see writing blogs.

Yes, I’ve learned a lot about recovery—probably more than most people. I’ve had stints of sobriety: a year here, a couple of years there. But each time I relapsed, it hit harder, with more devastating consequences.

I’ve studied recovery obsessively for over a decade. I’ve been through jails, prisons, treatment centers, and inpatient mental health facilities. I’ve read the books, listened to the talks, and sat through the meetings. Honestly, I probably have the equivalent of a master’s degree in addiction and recovery—on top of the actual MBA I earned in 2020.

But this blog isn’t about showing you how I’ve “made it.” It’s about showing you that I’m still here—still trying, still learning, and more committed than ever to getting it right.

Understanding Addiction from the Inside

If you’re not someone who struggles with addiction, it can be hard to understand.

People ask, “Why don’t they just stop?” or “Isn’t it just a choice—drink or don’t drink?”

If only it were that simple.

Addiction rewires your brain. It alters how you think, how you feel, and what you believe is possible. Until you’ve walked a mile in an addict’s shoes, it’s almost impossible to understand what it takes to get—and stay—sober.

My hope is that by sharing my journey openly and honestly, you’ll start to understand. You’ll get a glimpse into the daily struggle, the small victories, and the ongoing fight to regain control of a life that once felt beyond repair.

Where I Am Today

As I write this, I’m on day 44 of sobriety.

I’m actively working a 12-step program. I attend meetings every day. I do reflection work and write personal inventories that I plan to share here as part of this blog.

I want you to walk this journey with me—not just so you can see the wins, but so you can understand the setbacks, too.

In 2011, I was at the top of my game—serving as a director in the telecom industry. By 2014, just three years later, I was in prison for an alcohol-related offense. I spent the next seven years in and out of the criminal justice system, trying to find my way back.

This blog is a piece of that comeback story.

If you’re struggling with addiction—or love someone who is—I hope you’ll stick around. I don’t have all the answers, but I’m willing to be real about the fight. And maybe, just maybe, that will help you find the courage to keep fighting, too.