It's a classic story: Kids are forced to learn an instrument from a young age, they play it throughout their childhood, and they develop a bittersweet relationship with it. Is the constant battle between the love for the music and the hate for the constant challenge worth the fight? For me, it was.
I started playing the piano when I was four—that was 15 years ago! This was huge commitment, so there must have been something worth holding on to, right?
The easy guess is that I was purely in love with music and piano. Although that's the sweeter tale, it's a bit more complicated. I struggled a lot with piano. Family and peers were, at least in my own head, constantly placed beside me in competition. I felt stressful to be the best in order to prove something to others—and more devastatingly (破坏性地) to prove something to myself. The seed of my musical interest was grown in the sunlight of competition and doubt. Hate sprouted (滋生) when my self-criticism hit too hard.
It's difficult to learn to love something that didn't originate from love. For a while, piano was more of an annoyance than a hobby. But somehow, love grew. It was deeply buried. But it was there, and by high school, it was strong enough that when I was truly on the edge of quitting any kind of formal training. I found the strength to hold on tighter, and dig further. I switched teachers, and got incredibly lucky with one who helped me tunnel into what I loved. I learned pieces for myself, I composed for myself, and I found confidence not because I got "good enough," but because I learned that anything I had was good enough.
The love and hate I've had for the piano were both planted and grown. If you too have learned to hate something, remember that with commitment, it can be uprooted, and love can make a home in its place. There is always time. There is always room.
