Is My Childhood Piano Teacher the Reason I'm In Therapy?!

she triggered my fear triad 😂

Hi, it’s me. Thanks for the birthday wishes last week, and for your support and encouragement regarding this new space to write and share slices of my life. I hope my words continue to resonate.

Last week, reader Holly of Release & Gather commented that we who frequently cannonball into the deep end of social conversations should be collectively referred to as Ballers, and I’m here for it. 😂 Thank you, Holly! Read last week’s post if you haven’t already and hit me up the comments if you’re a fellow Baller! 💣

Family dinner for my birthday with people I love, a bottle of Rosé, and a sunset view.

Last week’s newsletter launch was a success because 1) I published it, and 2) you read it. I’m trying to stay present and enjoy each milestone as it comes, though it’s tempting to smash the refresh button every five minutes to see if my view count has gone up ⏱📈💥.

This week I’ve been thinking about the relationship between fear and failure. There certainly is a fear of failure, but the nuance I’ve observed in myself is more like a fear of starting. I said out loud to a friend over two plates of pie that I have goals and want certain things to happen, but then I sit around waiting for things to happen. And when they don’t, I get jealous of people for whom things do happen. And I wondered out loud (as I finished my pie) if I was even hungry enough to work toward my goals or if I was a pretty pretty princess who gives up at the slightest obstacle. I seem to self sabotage before I even get started.

Why am I like this?? How much is learned and how much is wiring? A few years ago several friends in my community were going on and on about the Enneagram, so I read a book to see what all the fuss was about. I learned that I’m a “six.” A six as rated by Harvard boys on The Face Book seems above average but not particularly outstanding. But a six on the Enneagram means I am part of the “fear triad.” I sort of roll my eyes at stuff like this, but the discovery does put my general underlying always-present fear in a context that suggests I’m wired to lean in that direction.

My first fear memory is from kindergarten. It was my first year taking piano lessons, and I was at my first piano recital. And because my last name was Anderson, I was the first performer in the alphabetized program order.

As I stood off stage looking at the big grand piano under lights, I was terrified. I had never even been to a recital before, and I remember wondering why I had to go first. Why couldn’t I watch someone go before me? How will I know what to do?

Later in life I would realize I learn by observing other people -- like how I studied other skiers swoosh down the mountain as I rode up the chairlift, how I learned to keep my back elbow up by watching big league batters, and how I learned how to write and tell stories by reading books and watching movies. 

Back then, I didn’t know this was my learning style. I didn’t have the words to express what I wanted, I just knew I was afraid of starting. 

The teacher instructed me to walk out and face the audience, curtsy, then sit down to play. She repeated this many times, and I went over it again and again in my mind. I squinted to see the masking tape X on the floor where I was supposed to curtsy.

Finally the audience hushed and my teacher nudged me out onto the stage. I slowly walked toward the piano bench and found the X. 

I curtsied. I looked out over the audience.

And then I ran backstage. 

My teacher caught me in the wings and repeated her instructions, “Stand on the X, curtsy, then sit down to play.” She nudged me out again, and I stood on the X. I curtsied. In the silence I heard a cough, rustling of feet and hands, maybe some paper fanning a warm face, and a couple of giggles.

In hindsight I’m certain I’d be one of the giggling moms in the crowd if I was watching this scene, but only because I would find it completely adorable that a six year old with saggy tights and a bowl cut was dwarfed on stage by a giant grand piano. 

I ran into the wings again, this time in tears.

My teacher sharply pulled the next kid’s arm and pushed her out toward the stage in my place (it was the 70s, grabbing other people’s kids was acceptable then). I watched her through my tears - she was taller, older, and had long brown hair. She curtsied, then sat down to play (she could reach the floor pedals!). When she was done, she stood up, curtsied again, and came backstage as the next kid walked out - a boy. He stood on the X, bowed, then sat down at the piano.

I wiped my tears and watched him play. It seemed easy enough! When my teacher nudged me out again, I felt sheepish for making a mistake before, but at least now I had seen what to do. I walked cautiously, stood on the X, curtsied, and sat down to play. 

Playing a song for my dad on his birthday — 1977, the same year as my first piano recital. I’m so little 😳!

I don’t remember how this scene ended, nor do I have a memory of finishing my piece or walking off stage or how I felt when it was over. I only remember the embarrassing start. 

What was I afraid of when I walked out on that stage for the first time? Why did I give up before I even started? Did I forget the list of actions I was supposed to do? Was I intimidated by the crowd? 

I ask myself these same questions today about my dormant goals, the ones I talk about all the time but don’t act on. It’s not for lack of knowing how to move a goal forward that I’m stuck — I’m a project manager! I know how to break a project down into manageable tasks and sprints, I know how to create a work-back schedule, I know how to plan strategically to meet long range goals. My issue isn’t knowledge, it’s fear. 

So here we are. Starting this newsletter is a first step toward my goal! I made it past the curtsy, and now I’m sitting at the piano with my feet dangling, and I’ve struck the first note. I have no idea how the scene ends, but I’m proud of myself for getting this far. Thanks for being in it with me.

Until next time,

Jen

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Question of the Week

If you could snap your fingers and get rid of one of your fears immediately, which would you pick and why? Join the conversation!

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News + Notes

This is our friend, Matt. He’s in the BEERS tee. GRILLED MEATS is my husband, Bryan 🥩.

Matt’s employer, Font Awesome, gives team members dedicated time at work for learning new things, so Matt (who’s a writer & content producer) figured out how to use Font Awesome‘s SVGs and Web font technology on Shopify to make these cool shirts! A bunch of our friends wear them, and now you can get your own Snack Pro Tee!