The Mental Musician: Not Living Up To Potential
On December 15th, 2015, three months after graduating from high school, I walked down the corridors of the Sydney Conservatorium of Music, on my way to my first audition for their Bachelor of Music course. It was to be the first step to me pursuing a career as a professional musician. The building itself looks like a castle straight out of Hogwarts, and inside it is a museum with frames and exhibits, honoring the greats of music from Bach to Beethoven, from Charlie Parker to Miles Davis.
This was my dream coming to fruition. From the very time I could remember picking up a toy guitar at the age of 2, I was ready to fulfill my destiny. As I walked past all the teachers and the students, I could already envision my time there in the next year, learning with some of the best musicians in the country, and creating music with my fellow musicians. The script was going according to plan. However, there was this little voice in my head that planted a seed of doubt in my mind.
As I walked past the studio room and sat down next to the door of the audition room, I heard this strange voice in my head say, “You don’t want to do this anymore.” At first, I brushed it off as pre-audition nerves and a bit of cold feet. After all, if my audition was successful, this would be a huge stepping stone toward fulfilling my dream.
I couldn’t seem to block out this voice. Normally, before a performance or recital, if there were any nerves or jitters, I’d be able to shake them off after a little bit of positive self-talk. This time, it seemed to linger, and it would get louder and louder, creating a thunderous roar in my mind.
Walking out of the audition room, I felt the interview had gone according to plan, and judging by the reaction of the panel, I was already accepted. Yet, this voice in my head continued to grow in volume and get stronger by the second. Soon, it led to some heart palpitations and shortness of breath. Anxiety started to creep in, and I had to get out of the castle.
At this point in time, I had already made up my mind about being a professional musician. Everyone that I knew, from my close friends, fellow classmates, my family, teachers, and my friend’s parents, knew that I would be pursuing music.
Now, I was never a musical child prodigy, nor did I win multiple awards or competitions like some of my fellow classmates. In fact, I was a disappointment and someone who was there or thereabouts but could never quite get that big break. Whether it’d be just missing out on a spot in the school band, just missing out on topping my music class, or just missing out on a big performance opportunity because a fellow classmate pipped me, I was a “nearly” student.
A successful audition into the most prestigious music university in Australia would finally get the monkey off my back. Everyone who said I was talented, that I’d be great, that I was destined for great things in music would be proud of me, and their support in me would be repaid. That was the plan, and it was written in the stars.
Two weeks later, I received the email that would confirm all of my hopes and dreams: “Dear Mr. Brian Zhang, we are delighted to inform you that you have been accepted into the Bachelor of Music undergraduate course at the Sydney Conservatorium of Music for 2016.”
Finally, after 13 years of almost cracking it, enduring several near-misses and missed opportunities, I had finally made it! I wish I could tell you that I was elated and over the moon. My friends and family certainly were, and not to mention my music teacher who had been telling me for the best part of 7 years that I was made for the CON.
Within 24 hours of being accepted into my dream university course, I picked up the phone, called the head Dean of the Sydney Conservatorium of Music, and informed her that I would be declining the offer. As soon as I finished that phone call, the weight of the world lifted off my shoulders. I had been carrying the burden of expectations of others all throughout high school, and I didn’t even realize it.
I still wanted to be a musician, I still loved playing the guitar, and I still wanted to share this beautiful thing, which is music, with the world. But I didn’t want to do it this way, and I knew that after making that decision, I would be disappointing so many people that had believed in me all throughout my childhood.
There were some tense conversations with family members and friends over the next few months. At times, I felt like I had committed a cardinal sin. Life was ending before it had even begun. To everyone, I was throwing away the opportunity of a lifetime. To me, it seemed like I was throwing away the opportunity of a lifetime.
At 18, it is very easy to succumb to the expectations of others and do what you think you “should” do, rather than what you genuinely want to do. Even if you had family, friends, and mentors who encouraged you to “be yourself,” you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that you felt the pressure from others to do well. It’s only natural to do so, especially at a young age because you feel like if you mess up, you lose the golden opportunities to get your foot into the door.
But here’s the thing that people won’t tell you as you grow up: It’s okay to not be living up to your potential at the age of 18, and why would you want to? If you peaked and fulfilled your dream the moment you finished high school, then the rest of your life may as well be null and void. Do you really want your life to be set in stone at 18, and your story to be written entirely for you until the day you die?
If you plan to reach your potential at such a young age, then you rid yourself of the opportunity to continue learning, to continue getting better, to continue exploring adventures and challenges you didn’t even know you would be capable of. You would close yourself off from experiences that you didn’t even know would be possible.
Fast forward 8 years, at 25 years old, I am still nowhere near my peak, and I certainly haven’t reached my potential, and I’m okay with that. As far as I’m concerned, I’m still the same “nearly” student who was always so close, yet so far throughout high school. The best part is, I have no idea what my full potential is, and I certainly don’t want to find out about it any time soon.
It’s okay not to be the overachiever who peaks early because there is a whole lifetime for you to discover the amazing feats you are capable of doing. That’s what makes life both exciting and scary.
