The Realization

About a month ago, I started taking private violin lessons. I haven't had private instruction since college, which has been a surprising amount of years ago.

Chuck and I had toyed with the idea of me taking lessons a couple times in the past, but I never saw a way to make it happen until I learned that the concertmaster in the symphony I play with taught for a very reasonable price.  

Before I went to my first lesson, I remember asking myself, "Why do I even want to take lessons? Are they worth the money that we could use for something else? What goal am I working toward? It's not like I'm taking lessons because I have some big, scary recital coming up or because I'm getting graded. It's not even like I'm trying to audition for some fancy performing opportunity." 

I was never really able to come up with an answer other than a simple "Because I want to be the best I can be." 

The first lesson came and went and I rapidly remembered how scary it is to play in front of someone infinitely better than myself, who is looking for what I'm doing wrong. And let's just say that there was plenty to find. Seriously. 

Have you ever had a habit for 14 years and then had someone tell you to change it in a matter of weeks?

Um, yeah. 

That's pretty much it in a nutshell. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Now we need to go back in time a bit {probably about two months}. I remember having a really crappy day for some reason or another, but what really set me off was the fact that I couldn't play my violin the way I once could. I was so sad that I was losing my skills, and there was nothing I could really do about it.  

I recall crying to Chuck about how being a violinist was who I was. It was my identifier. I was a violinist. It made me cool {or so I tell myself}. It made me unique in a crowd, which is sometimes fun. It was a conversation starter. It was, like I said, who I was.

I was bummed because Hannah was taking all of my time, including that which was usually dedicated to practicing. I felt {like I'm sure many mothers do at some point in their calling}, as though motherhood had sucked away my identity and left me with a hollow skeleton; considerably less than its former glory.

As I was weeping and wailing {and possibly gnashing my teeth}, thinking how woeful my situation was, Chuck said this:

"Yeah, but you're a mother now."   

I've gotta tell you, that was NOT what I wanted to hear at the moment. I wanted him to tell me something, like, "Gee, honey. But your practicing still sounded great!" "You're so good." "You won't lose it!" "It will work out." "You're still a violinist, and you always will be."

He could have taken his pick. Any one of those would have worked just fine. :)

But instead, he told me that being seen as a violinist was no longer an option. I was seen as a mother now. Being a mother was priority number one, and being a violinist was somewhere else down the line. 

Suffice it to say that I struggled with that for a while.

A long time, in fact.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

So fast forward again to where I found out the concertmaster taught lessons. I was like a spoiled kid in the grocery store screaming for the candy bar in the checkout line. Well, not really. I was trying incredibly hard to accept that our budget didn't allow for private lessons, regardless of how reasonably priced. Especially seeing as how there was an hour commute to consider as well as the issue of who would watch our kid every Saturday morning. I was trying really hard to be brave and sacrifice what I wanted for the good of my family. But, I'll tell ya, there was still some of that little kid in me.  

I wanted it.

Really bad.

And I got it. My husband offered to watch Hannah, sacrifice part of his day {and some of his paycheck}, and give up some of his time with me so that I could 'become the best I could be'. 

Earlier today I was trying to practice while Hannah was slowly growing impatient with her toys. I was tempted to become impatient with her in return, when a light bulb clicked on. 

Source

And it's not that playing the violin is no longer important to me. It is! But I now realize that being a wife and mother is much more important, not to mention more satisfying and long-lasting! 

It's not always easy to sacrifice for your family. It's not always easy to lose your previous identity to realize another. But it's worth it in the end. I pinky promise!

:)