I've been playing piano for over 15 years now.
When I first started learning how to play piano, it was because I really wanted to play. I had friends that played. I loved sitting to watch them play. There was something captivating I discovered with the piano. I wasn't sure what it was, but it drew me in. It was something I knew I needed to learn how to play.
As a kid, we had a recital every year. And, every year, I dreaded it. I hated playing the piano in front of others. (Confession: I still hate playing the piano in front of others.) I participated in the recital, though, because I honestly had no other choice. I played my pieces I had practiced for months - all while visibly shaking in fright. I never managed to get through any of my pieces without messing up. But, I made my way through each piece, stood up, faked a smile, and quickly rushed back to my seat (hoping to crawl underneath it and hide) till the recital was finally over.
Very few people in my current life today know I play the piano. One of my best friends, who I thought knew everything about my life, just recently found out I was a pianist. It's not something I often talk about. And it's something that usually shocks people when they find out.
I don't talk about it because, most people, when they find out you're a pianist, immediately ask you to play something for them. I always refuse. The most I'll play is a scale. But that's it.
Last night, a friend of mine asked me how my week had been. I told him I had been struggling with depression, and that I was trying to get back into writing to help with it. He asked if he could read some of my writings.
So, here's the deal. Yes, I have this blog. Yes, I write blog posts on it (albeit not as often as I should). But, my friends and family don't know I blog. I've never shared this blog with them. This blog has never come up in any conversation we've ever had. While I have shared a few pictures of myself, I do my best to remain as anonymous as possible.
Why? Because when I write, I find I am very honest and vulnerable. The exact opposite of how I am in real life. I write because that's how I feel emotions, that's how I figure out how I truly feel about events going on in my life. I write for me. That's it. (See Goal #3)
After much hesitation, I decided to share my writings with him. I sent him an email where I had copied and pasted a few of my most recent blog posts to him. And then I waited for his response. Minutes felt like hours. And with each passing minute, I felt my anxiety level increase. It increased to where I was visibly shaking.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I tried listening to music, but that didn't help calm me. I knew why I was anxious; there was no need to sit there trying to understand my feelings.
Just when I thought I couldn't take the anxiety anymore, I got up and walked toward the piano. I sat down and started playing. The more I played, the more feeling I put into what I was playing, the more I kept my eyes closed and just felt the music, the less anxious I became. When I finished, I let out a deep breath. A breath it seemed I had been holding for hours. And then I felt it. It. Peace.
As I went to stand up from the piano, it hit me.
The piano is my refuge because it's the one place where I can express my feelings. I put my heart and soul into what I'm playing. If I'm feeling happy and upbeat, that's reflected in what and how I play (upbeat, fast as my fingers can move, rag music). If I'm feeling anxious, that, too, is reflected in what and how I play (slow, soft, flowy pedal pieces that I close my eyes and sway with as I play).
I don't play for others because my heart shows when I play. If others see or hear me play, then they'll see my vulnerable side, a side I hide and keep to myself. That is the exact reason why I get so anxious and nervous whenever I am forced to play for others. And that is also the exact reason I avoid, at all costs, having to play for/in front of others.
I've been playing piano for over 15 years. It has taken me over 15 years to realize that the peace I feel when I play comes not from the actual piano itself, but rather from me releasing my heart and my emotions as I play.
I stood up, and, all alone, in my quiet home, in the wee hours of the morning, I declared, "THAT was a powerful life moment!"
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