Painfully Amazing
Something happened a few weeks ago. Something painful and amazing all at the same time. My 10-year-old, who so often struggles to fit in, decided instead to stand out. She walked right up to the front of the stage at her chorus concert and sang the most beautiful solo. Stick with me for a moment as this is not just a mom-brag moment. This was the kind of solo that got everyone’s attention. The kind of solo that fellow classmates recognized as impressive. The kind of solo that caused her chorus teacher to seek me out to make sure I understand the talent that my daughter possesses. The thing is, I know already. That’s the painful part. You see, I was a professional musician and music teacher for many years before making the decision that I needed to get out. As my daughter basked in the after-glow of an excellent performance and counted the compliments received (have I mentioned she has OCD?!), it took me right back to my time as a musician.
I knew from a very young age that I wanted to be a professional musician. Much like my daughter, I was a very all-or-nothing kind of kid. I probably made the decision about my future within the first week of playing the flute. This wasn’t the first time I made grand plans for my future, but this time I discovered I had a talent for music. I was also a very hard worker and responded well to the competitive aspect of music. I often started in last chair and would work my way up to the top. It all felt so good…the compliments, the applause, the instant gratification of a good performance. As a flutist, the competition was always steep, but I was determined to succeed. I auditioned for and was accepted at a good music school, earned my bachelor’s, eventually went to grad school and earned my master’s and then entered the professional world. Each step of the way was more brutal and intense than the last. As a musician, your work is never done. There’s always more to practice and perfect. My music has always been such a deep part of me that any criticism of my playing became all about me. I struggled to separate my performances from my worth and the thing that I loved most was slowly destroying me. What had built me up was now tearing me apart. Sometimes I wonder if I had it to do all over again if I would make another choice. I don’t think I knew how to be anything else. Ultimately, I value my training and time spent as a musician but found that I needed to make other choices to live my best life.
And here before me is my beautiful daughter with an unquestionably beautiful voice and talent for singing. I want to shield her from the criticism and the intensity of the music world. I want her to know that she is enough even when her performances are not. I want to protect her from the pain yet allow her to experience the beauty. Perhaps that’s what we all hope for as parents. She is young and we cannot know yet what path she will choose. I will not stand in her way even as it pains me to know what the future might hold. Be kind world, that’s my baby.
