How recognition both ambition and anxiety attracts to music artists

Copyright © HT Digital Streams Limit all rights reserved. Divya Naik 8 min read Sept 27, 2025, 08:30 am to navigate fame, artists must work to work not only in applause but also in personal growth. (IStockphoto) Summary, even if musicians get the audience they crave, they must navigate the fragility that is accompanied by the guard on applause on a rainy evening in Mumbai, singer-songwriter Rohit Shetty, 27, and he sought his latest music video through the comments. Two million views in a week were a milestone he had dreamed about for a long time. Yet his eyes remain buried on a single line under the praise: “Derivative. Sounds like he’s copying Pratek Kuhad.” That one sentence opened weeks of joy. “I couldn’t sleep for days,” Shetty says. “I stopped writing. I felt like a fraud. ‘ To numb the discomfort, he turns to alcohol and turns between inspiration and crushing self-doubt. Shetty’s experience is far from unusual. While artists often pursue visibility and praise, the spotlight they seek can erode corrosive touch anxiety that is anxiety, and even reform their creative driving force. Netflix’s 2024 documentary Yo Yo Honey Singh: Famous Touched on the Pressures of Celebrity, but stopped exploring a deeper site: how recognition, even in small doses, regained the artistic psyche. Psychologists often describe it as the ‘fragile ego’, which is a volatile mixture of vulnerability, validation search and identity collapse that can cause the glamor, but also sow despair. Brake ego vs confidence all experts are comfortable with the term. Pratistha Trivedi Mirza, senior clinical psychologist at Amaha Health, a mental health organization in Mumbai, argues that ‘fragile ego’ overlooks a complicated reality. Creative work makes identity porous: Who is an artist and what they make, tightly fuses. As a result, even professional setbacks are experienced as personal failures. Others describe it as the double bond of creativity. Sheevika Nanda, a gurugram-based clinical psychologist, notes that artists often attach their sense of self to public opinion. “External validation becomes oxygen,” she says. Confidence, on the other hand, allows criticism to land without imposes. Fragility distorts ambition, changes in superiority or cruel short -term satisfaction. Anshuma Kshetrapal, a Delhi-based creative arts psychotherapist, sees the roots of this fragility in childhood. Many of her clients, she says, grew up under constant criticism or supervision and learned early on that they were only worthy when others approved it. This conditioning, together with the high visibility of an artistic career, is the way for a lifelong struggle with self -worth. Collectively, the difference between fragility and trust is not in ambition, but in the foundation. Confidence is broadly based on various aspects of the self. Breakability, on the other hand, is narrow, almost entirely attached to applause, says Kshetrapal. For rapper Ayesha Singhal, 22, everything moved from Delhi the day the day when a cut of her freestyle in 2023 became viral. “Suddenly I was ‘the next big thing’. Initially, I was ecstatic. I no longer wrote for myself and I frozen, ‘she says. Psychologists see this pattern regularly. Mirza says before recognition, artists are usually driven by passion and expression. Motivation is successfully moving outside: the outcomes such as followers, applause, financial benefits replace the joy of the process. That makes them fragile. Nanda points out that even small -scale recognition can destabilize the self -esteem. For some, praise arrives faster than skill, blowing the ego. For others, success raises expectations so high that self-doubt and impostor syndrome take over. Kshetrapal adds that it is often when art becomes a product rather than processing. Instead of writing to sublimize emotion, artists write for hold. The inner critic begins to dictate every movement: Will this tendency? Will they love me? It is at this point, she says, that fragility in something harder to undo. The Indian context further sharpens these dynamics. As Singhal notes, recognition not only changes an artist’s relationship with their work, but it changes how peers, communities and even families treat them. Print mounting. Applause which, once inspired, quickly becomes a question. Look at the full image Chennai-based classic dancer Meera Devidayal, fame as an amplifier as early success sets the stage, the fame is increased the volume. “Fame makes everything enlarged,” says Mirza. It introduces the so -called ‘Spotlight Effect’, where artists are constantly being observed and judged. For those who are already prone to anxiety or perfectionism, the gaze exacerbates only symptoms. Nanda describes fame as the scaffolding of the self. If the numbers fall, it’s not just popularity that drops – it feels like the whole identity has collapsed. With fame as the only scaffolding, artists feel exposed and naked. Kshetrapal takes it further and calls fame a substitute for love. “If the recognition disappears, the body experiences famine,” she explains. Artists turn to substances, not for indulgence, but survival, because silence feels unbearable. This is financial instability above -ate. India’s urban artists often prefer visibility: they are seen, even celebrated, but still remain uncertain. That paradox strengthens the psychological tension. The result is predictable: increased risk of anxiety, depression, burnout, drug abuse and even suicide. In a recent study published by Goldsmiths University in London, musicians found a higher suicide risk than the general population. Relationships at stake This fragility not only affects art, but it wrinkles in relationships. Mirza explains the concept of contingency of self -esteem: When the respect increases and falls on public approval, mood and motivation become volatile. In art, where work is deeply personal, praise feels like confirmation; Criticism feels like destruction. Nanda sees the creative toll most clearly. The fear of rejection often prints artists to play it safely, regain ideas instead of innovating. Cooperation also suffers, as competition, distrust and insufficient creep. The result is isolation, even in a crowded scene. For Kshetrapal, replacing love with applause is especially harmful. Artists, she says, begin to compare recognition with affection. The desperation to maintain one reflects the desperation to maintain the other. But when fans retreat or step back, the collapse not only feels professional, but personal. In urban environments with high pressure, these fragility slides even into intimate relationships. Survival pressure makes love transaction. Partners become lifelines rather than choices, to erode intimacy and strengthen the cycle of fragility. Ego -Brooseness withdraws a steep price. Mirza points to isolation, stagnation and burnout. The fear of criticism is printing artists to withdraw, while constant self -monitoring drains their emotional reserves. Nanda emphasizes how too much dependence on validation drives anxiety and depression. Persistent self-doubt erodes trust, stimulates rejection sensitivity and damages the creative process. Kshetrapal warns of what she calls the “over-ideealization of pain”. Many artists believe that suffering is their only valuable trait. They hold on to it because others resonate with it, conclude the handling of skills and cut off access to healthier parts of themselves. Burnout becomes inevitable. The fragility that attracts art is also paradoxically enough, seed destruction. Sensitivity as strength, yet the same sensitivity can also be a gift. Mirza notes that increased sensitivity enables artists to notice subtleties that miss others, which translate intensity into powerful work. Nanda agrees and points out that empathy, insight and attention to detail often arise from this fragility. If channeled out in art, rather than inwardly than self -criticism, it enriches creative production. Kshetrapal emphasizes that the vulnerability itself is not the danger. The risk lies in losing contact with ‘resources’ of the self – the handling, reflective, balanced aspects. With the right support, she says, the sensitivity remains fertile soil. Breakability, in the right circumstances, sharpened art instead of crushing the artist. Handling and community to cope, Mirza recommends: Diversification: The nature of self -worth not only in applause, but also in personal growth, relationships and exploration. Journal, mindfulness, therapy and feedback, first in safe spaces, then publicly, can help balance ego and resilience. Nanda emphasizes the need for boundaries. Artists need to learn to separate themselves from the work. Supporting communities, she argues, offers honest feedback and safe collaboration. Kshetrapal focuses on the role of therapy in the reconnection of artists with their strengths, not just their vulnerabilities. Fans also have a role to play. Mirza calls on audiences to avoid idolatry or cancel culture. Instead of keeping the score, she says, recently linked to: normalize the humanity of artists, and don’t ask how hard you clap, but how deep the work moved you. Resilience, in other words, is a collective project. The lived struggle for shetty, therapy offered a turning point. “My therapist helped me to see that I was not my music. It saved me. I still read comments, but I also write songs just for myself that are memories of the process, not the product. ‘ For Ayesha Singhal, the community was the anchor. She joined Delhi a rap collective. ‘Our freestyle weekly – no cameras, no hashtags. Just a raw expression. It keeps me healthy. ‘ For the Chennai-based Meera Devidayal, 38, a classic dancer whose career reached a peak a decade ago, the challenge was to fade fame. “When the calls stopped coming, I felt invisible. I have been thinking for years: if I’m not on stage, who am I? ‘ she says. Therapy helped her recharge her identity. Today mentors his younger dancers, which she as continuity rather than collapse. Their stories reflect that psychologists emphasize: fragility is not a mistake, but a predictable stress response if identity is linked to visibility. Resilience lies in disconnection of applause, the foundation in the community and the recycled of art as a process. Artists live on a knife’s edge: the same fragility that makes them vulnerable also promotes their brilliance. The look of the audience can be intoxicating, but also imprisonment. Honey Singh’s trajectory, such as Shetty’s, Singhal’s and Devidayal, reminds us of a quieter truth: Behind the applause one wrestles with one unwavering question: Am I enough, even if it is unseen? Divya Naik is an independent writer in Mumbai. Catch all the business news, market news, news reports and latest news updates on Live Mint. Download the Mint News app to get daily market updates. More Topics #Music Industry #Permenteral Health Read Next Story