Venting What I love to do the most is what I hate the most.

[robertJMP]

Since I was a child I have been forced to study piano by my father, he was always obsessed with me being his perfect son, so he made me study more than 3 hours a day with no time to play or do other things that I would have clearly liked to do, this made me antisocial and no chance to make friends, but that's another story.

nowadays i can play the piano magnificently and it is something i really like to do, i usually go to play recitals without any problem and i can make some profit playing, but every time i play the piano when i finish playing i can't help but feel a terrible hatred towards the hobby and think that i probably would have had a different life with less stress and pressure, to that I add the hatred I always accumulated towards my father and relating the instrument to him (he is a music teacher) and I don't know how to really feel about it, on one hand it is something I want to keep doing, but on the other hand I want to quit and never play again, at the end of the day it makes me happy, but it also makes me go through a lot of pain.

I really don't know what to write to add to the story, but I think that's enough, thanks for reading and sorry if my English is not perfect.

 

[Darkover]

i stick with the hobby through thick and thin its where my heart is infinite computing power

 

[Smart No More]

That's a shame but also entirely understandable. Along your learning path you have accumulated memories which relate to your earned skill. Now, when you use that skill it brings those memories to the surface. Is there a way you could reassign more enjoyable memories to your skill. Perhaps in becoming a teacher yourself? Maybe that's a double edged aword, all things considered. It just seems that the only way to link better memories/overwrite bad memories is to use your akills in the presence of better circumstances and teaching seems a potential way of doing so.

Perhaps, being alone with yout thoughts after playing publicly is problematic for you too? If so, maybe avoiding being alone in that way after playing would be beneficial. I guess friends or perhaps a romantic partner could be helpful in this instance? Someone to distract you from delving into those thoughts at those times.

If that's wide of the mark maybe another option would be to have therapy or seek out ways of gaining closure. There's also many things we can do with our mind as far as reprogramming in all kinds of clever ways. People like Derren Brown make their careers on it and highlight the potential that can be harnessed with the right guidance and methods.

Piano is a great instrument and I think it's a wonderful thing to come out of a bad situation. I am aware of the discipline that goes into it though and I can see how the wrong teacher could leave scars. In fact I relate somewhat, having had a very controlling parent who forced religion on me as a child. Now I have very strong opinions about that.

 

[Forever Sleep]

Your English is excellent.

I can relate to you a lot but it's art for me. I became obsessed with art as a distraction from some horrible childhood stuff. It was at least my choice. I can see why you feel resentment towards your father for making you do it.

Still- for me- it has had a similar result. I really struggle socially. Art is actually pretty much the only thing I find worth in now. It feels like my only purpose. I also realise it's maladjusted though and I wonder how I would have turned out if I hadn't taken this course.

Now- because I can't really do it and sustain myself financially- it's the main reason I want to CTB. (Although I've had ideation for decades.)

I wish I knew what to say. It's good at least that you do still enjoy playing. I'm not so sure you can even fight the negative aftermath though. It's kind of ineviatable. I suppose I sometimes like to tell myself- what's done is done- no point in crying over spilt milk. We've all likely had unfair things done to us in our lives that we didn't choose. All we can do is do our best with how we've turned out I'm afraid.

You have a right to feel annoyed at your father. I suppose you could try and talk to him about it- in as civil a way as possible- if you think that might help. Still- it won't get back that time sadly. I think all you'll realistically be able to do is enjoy the experience of playing still- focus on that and just brace yourself for the inevitable resentment afterwards. I'm sorry.

 

[Pluto]

My mother was a piano teacher and pushed music on her kids with relentless force. In fact, it was the very reason I was born. To her disgust, I was of the Nivana/Bon Jovi generation and really wanted to do what interested me. I also had totally unrelated interests and she never succeeded in molding me into the person she had envisaged. At that point, I was emotionally abandoned, not that I was ever loved in the first place.

A funny thing happened when I was in my 30s. I found myself wanting to track down the pieces that my mother used to play, that I'd never known the names of. They conjured distant memories of a sometimes sweet yet ultimately tragic childhood, sheltered from reality yet missing out on developmental milestones. I rediscovered her Chopin Etudes. I even found myself trying to play some of them and wishing I had any real dexterity. I felt a newfound respect for her career and the effort needed to do what she did, as well as the fascinating stories of the composers whose accomplishments defy description.

Make no mistake: negligent, abusive parenting and total disregard for the child as an individual is a legitimate trauma. It makes a mess when the result is a remarkable skill that brings joy to others. Something bad leads to something good. Lots of cognitive dissonance and many different ways the situation can be interpreted.

Many artists have had difficult lives because of what tends to be sacrificed to excel so spectacularly at their trade. Chopin himself was a child prodigy and his lack of normal childhood probably led to his later health and relationship hardships. In that sense, fine music is almost like an addiction, where the beautiful end product is required just to cope with the ruined life caused by the same product.