Tanya | Week 14 | Twelve Years Later
I cannot remember if I was four or five the first time I touched a piano. I think it was five, because I remember that I was in kindergarten when it happened. In any case, just like the rest of us at that innocent age, I was small—in terms of intellect, maturity, and height. Especially height, considering that my feet were a long ways from the pedals of the piano, even when I inched myself down so that I was sitting at the very edge of the bench.
It was because of this inability to reach the pedals, as well as the fact that my little baby fingers were too tiny to occupy the entire length of the grand piano and keep up with the fast tempo of my song, that my very first piano recital was one that I co-performed at with my piano teacher. She played the accompaniment of the music on her end of the piano, while I dutifully performed my part on the other end.
I think one of my earliest memories is sitting next to her on the black leather piano bench in front of the grand piano. I remember waiting in anticipation for my turn to perform, then sitting down elatedly afterwards to wait excitedly for the older kids’ spectacular performances. Those older pianists, especially the girls, were always people I could not help but admire. They were the people I looked up to (literally and figuratively), knowing that some distant, faraway day, I would eventually take their place.
One year later, at my next recital, I performed by myself for the first time. It was then that I discovered my horrible performance anxiety, something that has stuck faithfully by my side for as long as I can remember.
To this day, every time I have any kind of performance, whether formal or informal, I have never stopped repeatedly going over and over my sheet music in my head right before my performance. I can never stop myself from doing this, even though I know it is futile. So I worry myself just moments before I am supposed to go on, only to result in total panic because I realize that I don’t actually know any of the notes of my songs off the top of my head. I go through this process every time, and then I trust myself to fall into the flow of the music as soon as I’ve played the first note, and then everything comes naturally as I allow myself to relax.
It was also at that second recital that I made my first mistake. It was barely even noticeable, but to a little six-year old with high expectations, naturally it meant the world. But I convinced myself that no one was able to realize my mistake except me, because they didn’t know the song. It turns out that I was right, as nobody noticed. Except for my brother, because of course he did.
Little me performing at at my 2nd recital
And now, about twelve years later, as I prepare to sit on that black leather piano bench for the last time at the recital I wanted nothing more for the past few months than to qualify for, I cannot help but think that I am now those older kids. I am now those older girls, the ones who wore those long satin dresses, flowing, along with the pointy heels that I couldn’t even fathom wearing back then. The ones whose songs were so long and intricate that the audience would enjoy them for a couple minutes before eventually willing them to end. Those girls, I am them now, and a very large part of me does not understand how it could’ve possibly been twelve years already.
Hi Tanya, I found your blog incredibly introspective. Frankly I relate to your experiences with performance anxiety, which I too struggled with until I oddly enough outgrew it. I remember I used to sweat through my shirts (I've ruined god knows how many just waiting to perform or speak) and my hands would start to shake, till one day it just stopped. I like to think people run on emotional currency, and as we get older aging naturally takes more and more away from us. Simply speaking, I couldn't find it in me to care or stress anymore. Thus bye bye performance anxiety. But one thing about anxiety is it lingers in the back of your head, the back of your stomach, you get my point. So not to say I'm completely relaxed before a large performance, I'm either slightly numb or slightly anxious but I like to think my brain occupies itself when I have to get up on stage to do whatever it is I need to. I believe anxiety is just the brain's way of trying to cope and potentially over prepare. It's an evolutionary tactic I'm assuming, to kill yourself a little emotionally before completing a daunting task, but if you really think about it stress or no stress, the outcome will be the same, sure stress may motivate you to prepare, but judging from your blog you had all the passion necessary to thrive without it. My take on anxiety aside, I hope you continue to enjoy piano as much as you have in the past and I look forward to hearing from you next week!
ReplyDeleteAs someone who used to play the piano and perform at recitals, I completely understand you, Tanya! For me, at least, I would always idolize the older students—they always looked so much older, like they knew what they were doing and what they would do. In elementary school, I remember particularly admiring the sixth graders. They looked so knowledgeable; how could I not? But as time passed and I eventually became one of the sixth graders, I made a (rather stunted due to lockdown) realization that older people…don’t know what they’re doing. At all, really.
ReplyDeleteI walk to school in the morning, and every morning I walk past elementary school children being escorted by a sibling or a parent to school and think about how I used to idolize the grown-up high school students when I was their age. Now that I myself am grown-up (?), I glance at their almost-reverent stares and think about how, when they’re my age, they’ll realize three things: that age has no bearing on the having-things-figured-out department, that it didn’t take much time to grow up at all, and that there is still so much more growing up to do.
Tanya, this is a blog that I immensely relate to. While it may not be exactly the same thing, my thoughts towards dance echo yours almost exactly. I was three years old the first time I stepped into a dance studio and the only thing I can remember is how much I didn’t want to be there. Now, almost 13 years later, dance is the one thing I look forward to in a week; whether that be dancing, teaching, getting on calls or planning the show (it has kind of taken over my life). I also really relate to you as you talk about looking up to the older girls that perform. Having a sister who also dances, I grew up watching her and her group dance at all the performances and waiting for the day where I could be at that level. Now that I am, it brings me such a sense of accomplishment while I also hope I am good enough to invoke those same feelings in the younger kids. Congrats on qualifying for your last piano recital! That sounds incredibly exciting but also bittersweet as a big part of your life is coming to an end. Thank you for reminding me about how much we have all grown, in maturity, talent, and of course, in height.
ReplyDeleteHello Tanya! I also started playing the piano at a really young age (I believe first grade) and I loved playing it. To this day, I still the piano to relax—my favorite pieces being Howls Moving Castle and Rachmaninoff piano concerto 2—and simply as a hobby. I still remember my first recital where I was playing Bingo(yes, that Bingo). I was always dazzled by the the older students especially when they played Rachmaninoff or Beethovens Moonlight Sonata—absolute classic—and other beautiful pieces. The sense of dread of going next to the piano is unmatched as I feel like if I make a single mistake, I let down my teacher and my parents. I thought I was the only one who goes through the pre performance dread, realizing that they haven't memorized the notes. I usually desperately try to get my muscle memory down by tapping on my folder and it just seemed to get worse.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing!