On: Disliking Music

I have a really messed up backstory: I was the child prodigy violinist daughter of a sociopath. I left home at 17 and ran straight into the open arms of a religious cult. I married a man in the cult (via an arranged marriage) and was basically an indentured servant for ten years. Eight years ago I left the cult, got divorced, went no-contact with my entire family, and came out gay. That's the thumbnail version. One thing that comes up a lot in new friendships is my complicated relationship with music - I just don't really like it that much…

From the moment I was born, my mother (Holly) decided it would be my life's mission to be exactly like her. Holly wanted to be a famous violinist when she was a child, so when I was 2 years old she decided I would learn the violin. Unfortunately for me, I had a supernatural musical talent. By age 6 I was playing professionally and performing concertos with local symphonies. My identity was exclusively “violin player” for so long that I forget that most of my friends don’t even know that I even played, let alone that I was REALLY amazing. For me, The Music Issue and The Mom Issue are so interlinked that I rarely discuss my life as a professional child musician. And, once I was able to separate myself from both, I delighted in the peaceful anonymity both of being a virtuoso concert violinist and Holly’s daughter. I’m at the beginning stages of being able to open up about the violin thing.

Violin was not a hobby; it was my identity and full-time career. It was never my choice; It was my prison. From age two to twenty one I played the violin 8 hours a day, against my will. I was rarely allowed to play with friends. I wasn’t allowed to pursue my own interests or hobbies (I wanted to pursue art, writing, and ballet, thanks for asking!) I spent my entire childhood chained to an instrument I hated...

Here's the most bizarre part: everyone LOVED me for it! I couldn't go anywhere without people demanding performances from me. I couldn’t even get through my own birthday without my parents demanding that I go get my violin and entertain everyone.

“Grandma and Grandpa came all this way! C’mon, Nik, they NEVER hear you play.”

Even back then with all the conditioning layered upon me, my Self was in there, existing, desperately trying to get out. I shoved my Self so far down no one knew I even existed. I continued being the Good Girl. I got my music degree. I got a job at performing arts school. When I finally couldn't take it anymore and quit I was continuously told by those around me “that’s such a shame!” “But you’re so talented, you MUST love it deep down!” “You’re just rebelling against your mother.” “Someday you’ll learn to love it for yourself!” (Amazing how similar those sentences sound to people’s objections to my queerness, but that's another topic for another day).

So, no. I’m not that interested in music. And it’s not a character flaw, or something that needs to be healed. Violin stole my life - the life I COULD have had if I’d been allowed to have a tiny fraction of input in my own life’s course. I’m not wasting any more of my precious time on this earth doing things I don’t want to do.