At nine and a half, Maddy, my youngest, is a tiny little princess....at first glance. Never misses an opportunity to dress up, crawl into my lap, or flash her big brown eyes in a way that makes it hard to say no. At the same time, she is one of the youngest in her grade doing advanced math and English, getting straight A's with no help (me do it, I believe, was her first phrase!) and last year, she made the decision to pick up the viola and join the strings orchestra at school. Whatever she decides to do, she puts 100% into it, watching her do WODs is the best, as she puts the same focus and intensity in her WODs as she does in her academic and musical pursuits.
This past weekend we went to a strings recital, where Maddy was to perform two pieces she has spent quite a bit of time rehearsing, and that she had memorized. There were several performers, and so the audience seating area was packed. Maddy has played the piano for 4 1/2 years, and has performed in many recitals, this was not a new experience.
She got on stage, picked up her instrument, looked out at the audience, and froze. For what seemed like forever. Her eyes then widened, and her face started to break up, and I knew the shit was about to hit the fan, and my eyes started to fill. At that moment, her teacher ran up to the stage, showed her the music(which had been committed to memory weeks ago!) and this is where my heart started to break. It all came back to her, and I could see the looks cross her face, all within an instant, mortification, horror, terror, and finally, determination. This little 60lb girl dug deeper than I've ever seen anyone dig, set her jaw, picked up her bow, and played her pieces flawlessly. She bowed to thunderous applause, walked off the stage, and half way to us, she broke down in mortified tears. I held her for the remainder of the performances while she soundlessly cried in shame and disgust at the betrayal of her mind, she told me she had completely blanked out on stage, could not remember anything until the teacher reminded her with the music. Meanwhile, I inadequately tried my best to comfort and console, and told her how proud I was that she showed such amazing strength under pressure, and kept it together long enough to perform. It was not getting through, my perfectionist daughter was appalled with herself, and I was afraid we had just seen her last viola performance.
Jaded Musings was picked as my blog name because, well, I am jaded. And cynical, and overall disillusioned in humanity. Over the years, people near and far have disappointed on so many different levels, that I frankly don't have much hope for the future of a considerate and empathetic civilization. Something happened that night that gave me a glimmer of hope.
As soon as the the last performer was finished, Maddy stood up, she wanted OUT of there ASAP. As she put her coat on and headed for the door, people got in her way, many, many people. In fact, she was deluged by people one after another, people STOOD IN LINE to tell her how impressed they were with her determination to get through what was clearly such an awful situation. Adult musicians recounted memories of their own to her, of similar moments they had encountered, and of watching fellow musicians deal with this type of situation, and they all said the same thing, that she was a strong, focused and brave, as well as talented, young lady. We knew no one, these were all strangers, who saw the same combination of mortification and horror and strength in this tiny little creature, who I get to call my daughter. I stood by in utter and profound amazement and gratitude, and for the first time in a very long time thought that maybe, just maybe, there is hope for the human race.
My fierce but wounded warrior princess walked away with her dignity intact, her chin up and renewed determination. And I remain in awe of the display of strength she showed. And maybe just a little less jaded.
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