A Hardship

I just got back from practicing the piano for twenty-five minutes. It felt like hours. I'm so sad and frustrated about the way piano has gone here at Wheaton. At home last year the practice hours just flew by. Back then, practicing could be an outlet for troubled emotions. I remember a particular week when calculus related grief was making me miserable. I played for hours. But now the piano is the cause for grief and writing is the outlet. I wish it were not so.

Every day, if I have enough self-will, I drag myself across campus to the practice rooms in the conservatory. This is a good first step, but practicing is no easier. I don't understand. Or maybe I do. It isn't the music. I generally like the music I'm given to learn.

Under my old teacher, I felt like my playing was worth something. I was no prodigy, but I could learn a piece and play it nicely. I could play music that gave pleasure to myself and my listeners. But now I feel like my playing is worthless. And I feel like a bad musician too.

I never leave a lesson encouraged or motivated to practice. Instead I'm annoyed and frustrated. And sad.

I don't want to practice. Why is the joy gone? How can I last another semester like this?