"I am a musician" - The Aftermath

In the last two blog posts, I spun the yarn of my story of entering and leaving music school, and how those decisions teetered on my identity as a person living with a disability. However, what I did not address was that sharing this story has taken a difficult toll on me. The process of liberation can be freeing, but can also be entirely engulfed with uncertainty.

After cutting official academic ties with the music school, I went home for winter break. There was one task I didn’t think of when arriving home: what I was going to say to those around me (i.e. my family and friends)? I lied. I told my family that “school is going great”! Well, it was not completely a lie. The school was going great, but I left out the fact that I dropped out of the music school. I performed my bassoon for my parents and grandparents still. They clapped, and whether they knew I was in the music school or not, they said “always a spectacular job”! I was more fearful if I told them I left the music school, and they asked, “why”? This probing question made my stomach turn.

The shadow of shame has lurked behind my decision: did I make the right choice? Whether I have lived long enough to know the answer to this question, I can rightfully say that I made a decision, and that is a huge step. I found myself positioned in a quasi-universe of a supportive school that wanted to see its students “succeed” while finding it hard to support me in accommodations to meet my basic needs. I was marked with stretching myself thin to make something of myself. I ultimately felt the need to pursue my music degree to impress someone or something.

I had no way to know how these events in my first semester in college would affect me in the years to come. There would, and still continues to be a process of healing. I never saw myself leaving the music school for the reasons I did. In a recent novel I read by Dr. Edith Eger, “The Choice”, I found this compelling quote on the process for healing:

“There is no one-size-fits-all template for healing, but there are steps that can be learned and practiced, steps that each individual can weave together in his or her own way, steps in the dance of freedom”.

After these events, I just wanted to procure my experiences of healing, finding a remedy that would wash away my troubles. However, Dr. Eger elucidates to greater freedom of healing that many of us deny ourselves for this, that, and the other reason. Writing my story on this blog has crystallized some of the ambiguous feelings that eluded me, but has also pointed out areas where I could invest more time in reflecting.

The story of leaving the music school is mostly synonymous with my story of disability. That is why when people ask for this story, and I say “no”, they are taken aback. Why should a simple story of academic dissent be terms for fervent dialogue? For many, it shouldn’t be. However, as I have learned for myself, the ability for me to hold my own boundary in matters of my own disability is pertinent for my everyday survival.

One point is clear: the story of my bassoon and I is not over yet.