My musical journey stands as a testimony to the profound impact of resilience and passion, highlighting the transformative power of overcoming obstacles and embracing imperfections. From the early notes on the piano to the chords on the guitar, the detrimental influence of perfectionism became evident, shaping my understanding of what truly brings joy to my musical pursuits.

I used to have a deep love for playing the piano during my younger years. The joy of practicing, the connection with my teacher, and the thrill of playing duets with friends were highlights. Regrettably, some life changes significantly dampened this passion. My teacher moved away, leaving a recommendation for a replacement. Despite the convenience of the new teacher's location, her strictness and lack of warmth stifled my creativity and made me question the pursuit of a passion that no longer brought so much joy. I no longer enjoyed going to practice, and instead of practicing assigned pieces at home, writing and playing my own songs became a refuge, a form of self-expression when traditional practice lost its appeal. My dad encouraged this form of self-expression, albeit suggesting I just needed a "one-hit wonder", leaving me feeling like if my songs were good enough, I would just "get discovered". By who? Like building any product, it doesn't matter how good it is if no one knows about it. With the insurmountable pressure, I found myself practicing day and night. Despite living in a fairly large house at the time, I was scolded for practicing piano "too early" one morning by my brother. Yielding to his comfort over mine, I chose to shrink my presence, and my love for piano started to fade away.

Transitioning to the challenges of middle school, since I had stopped playing piano, I was intrigued by the school band. My other brother dissuaded me from joining, assuring me that I would be an outcast by doing so. Ironically, I had just been enrolled in the Gifted and Talented program, where many of my peers were in the band, leaving me feeling like an outsider and unfortunately further removing me from music. At 16, music attempted to make its way back into my life when my mom gifted me an electric guitar for my birthday. However, the lack of a teacher and proper equipment led to many less-than-pleasant experiences. It wasn't until we moved across the country that I found a teacher and heard my guitar truly sing for the first time through a proper amp. Yet, my fear of taking up space and not being good enough to play through the karaoke amp at home hindered my progress. Resuming my guitar journey in my twenties with my partner, a former rhythm guitarist in various bands, became pivotal. His teaching filled the space as safely as I had ever known. We spent three years gearing up for a four-hour set (!) at a local bar until COVID disrupted our weekly band practice and stalled our momentum. Over the next three years, my engagement with the guitar waned, and the further I got away from it, the bigger the stage seemed to get. It wasn't until we moved across the city that a local karaoke bar reignited my interest in performing. My first attempt was a disaster. But once the flame had been lit boom! We found ourselves at the karaoke bar a few more times in the coming months, playing guitar at home, and singing with our friends. At one point, as I looked out to the audience at the bar and saw people smiling and dancing, I couldn't believe it. Were they enjoying my performance? Reflecting on last year's objectives, "play open mic" stood out. Another year passed, and I found myself writing the same goal. I knew what was holding me back - perfectionism. I was putting obstacles in my way. It was never going to be perfect, it was never going to be the "right" time, and I was never going to feel "good enough." Taking decisive action, I set a date on the calendar.

Surprisingly, the two weeks of preparation leading up to the event weren't as stressful as I expected. I set up the proper equipment, recorded myself, and began to enjoy the process. With my dog as my audience, I found humor even in potential failure. The performance, though nerve-wracking, turned out to be a great experience. In the dimly lit karaoke bar, as I looked out to the audience and saw people smiling and dancing, a wave of disbelief washed over me. Were they truly enjoying my performance? It was a far cry from the uncertain, self-doubting musician who once yielded to the oppressive grip of perfectionism. Reflecting on the persistent goal of 'play open mic,' I realized that my journey was a testament to the transformative power of resilience and passion. So this time, I smiled back, knowing it was me, they were coming to see, to forget about life for a while.