HEAL YOU | JENLISA

FORTY-SIX

JENNIE

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I DECIDE IT’S TIME TO RETURN TO THE RICHTER PIECE. BUT THIS time, I give myself a hard talk first. I can see now that I can never go back to the way things were. It was foolish of me to think I could find a magic key to turn back time. The truth is art will never be as effortless as it used to be, not now that people have expectations of me. All I can do is go forward, and to do that, I must stop chasing perfection. It doesn’t exist. I can never please everyone. It’s hard enough just pleasing myself. Instead, I must focus on giving what I have, not what people want, because that is all I can give. I don’t mask anymore if I can help it.

I begin the Richter piece for the last time. Practice is slow and arduous. I make many mistakes and I go back and correct what I can, but I don’t go all the way back—except for one more time, which I regret. I hear the voices in my head, criticizing me, judging me. Oftentimes they get the best of me, and I finish practice feeling despondent. But I keep going anyway. Fighting the compulsion to start over, to seek perfection, to outwit the voices, is exhausting, and most days I can only manage for a few hours before I know my brain has had it. This is a necessary thing for me to learn, though. If I’m sensitive to my own resource levels, I can keep myself from falling sick again. A slow me is much better than a sick me.

In this manner, I make it to the end of the Richter piece. When I tell Lisa, she pops a bottle of champagne and celebrates with me, even though I still have many other pieces to prepare for this record and upcoming tour. But one by one, I get through those as well. I go to the studio, and I record them, permanently saving my renditions in digital format even though they’re not one hundred percent flawless.

It never gets easier. I fight every time I set my bow to the strings, but I stay true to myself.

I play from my heart.