Plucked

I'm in the middle of another, more potent identity crisis.

For years, I tried to push music out of the way.  I didn't want people to see me as "The Harpist".  I didn't want people to see the harp when they looked at me.  I got to college and rarely used the harp at all, even though I played in weddings, for church, or the occasional sing-along.

I pushed it so hard that now my harp's been gathering dust for...years.

And nobody except my closest friends know I have anything to do with music.

I have several ideas about why this is the case.

...I probably shouldn't go into them here.

But my harp glares at me from the corner (I've put it behind our dresser so I could forget it instead of shrinking away from it every time I enter the living room) and it's dusty and needs to be regulated and it will need new strings soon and...

...I don't know what to do anymore.

This all started several years ago.

I was three when I asked to play harp (I don't remember it).  My parents found a teacher when I was ten.  I took lessons from a wonderful man, then moved to Spain and had a rather harsh teacher who re-worked all my technique (she DID make me a better harpist -- I even competed in France).  Then I came home to lessons with a horrendous woman who broke me into tiny pieces (She and Delores Umbridge are almost the same person).  We finally left her and I, a wilted, dying flower was brought back to life by the boisterous, ecstatic energy of a new teacher, my red-haired, dancing, laughing, Harry-Potter loving friend and role model, Carmen.  She probably saved my life.  (Unfortunately, she's at Oxford at the moment or I might be crashing on her couch right now)  I took lessons from a nice lady my highschool year and then...I went to college.

At first, I enjoyed the attention I got from playing harp.  (The first day)  Then I realized that was all people saw me as (or at least that's how I perceived it) and I shut the harp out of my life.

I flubbed at the Christmas Concert two years ago and lost all confidence in my performance (the conductor I was working with wasn't pleasant either).  Since then I've barely touched the strings of my poor harps.

I feel, on the one hand, that I should get rid of them and move on with my life.  Someone else needs to be taking care of them and I certainly don't have the time or money to.  Playing music never is, and never has been a priority.  It's more like a hobby, the way I feel about it (or simply an annoyance), even though I was pressured to make it more.  And right now it is a hobby I desperately wish I didn't have to worry about.

On the other hand, I don't actually think the harps are *legally* mine.  I think my parents bought both, even though competition winnings went in for the purchase of the big harp.  Also...just thinking of all the money wasted on lessons, strings, music and instruments makes me nauseous.  Can I really give up something that someone has spent thousands of dollars on?

So here I am -- stuck with two instruments that are falling into disrepair (Elizabeth desperately needs a regulation and her bass strings changed out, neither of which I can do or have the money to get done) and constantly reminding me of the failure I am (or feel I am).

Several other issues are cropping up -- the way I feel about my siblings (I feel competitive, inadequate and overlooked), the test results that proved I was merely adequate at music (a relief) and the constant pressure to keep playing when I have no desire at all to pluck those damned, damned, damned strings.

Writing, painting, voice, and acting are what I love.  Speaking words on stage and penning words on paper are my passions (apart from reading, which is my greatest passion and what should define me).

I can't abide it any longer (after fifteen rather harrowing years) but I still feel stuck.  How do I cut out that unwanted part of my life when thousands of dollars have been poured into it?  Should I just keep it as a hobby and not feel bad about hardly ever practicing?

On the one hand...I feel it would be both exhilarating and cathartic to sell the big harp and use it to pay for a semester of grad school (the 2 year writing program I'm drooling over).  On the other hand, that is a scary, scary thought.  I won't have enough money to buy another harp if I change my mind for...maybe forever.

It feels irrevocable.

And I honestly can't untwist all the knots to see if maybe there's a little love left.