61. November 2, 2025

It is 8am and I stumble out of my bed. It is Sunday morning and I have to get ready for church. I have been a church pianist at a presbyterian church for 7 and a half years now, ever since we moved to Texas. I am sleepy and tired. I barely slept last night. Maybe 2 or 3 hours max. This happens to me nearly every Saturday night. I work myself up with my crippling performance anxiety and then I cannot sleep. It doesn’t make any sense. The older I get, the worse it is. Why? I don’t know. I have been a performer for over 40 years. I teach piano and I perform for people on a weekly basis. I should be used to this, right? The truth is that I am very hard on myself. I choose difficult piano arrangements to play at church every week. It’s almost as if I wanted to prove something to myself. But what and why? 

As much as I don’t want to play the piano anymore, I don’t allow myself to be mediocre. Because that would be disappointing. So for today, I chose a beautiful but challenging hymn arrangement by Heather Sorenson. She is a contemporary composer and choir director from Texas. Her arrangements and compositions are stunning and I think she is a music genius. Yes, of course, I could choose something simple to play for the congregation and relieve some of my anxiety, but I don’t. It must be my competitive nature. But at this point I am competing with myself. Is it my background? The innate need and self-imposed requirement to be a perfect pianist. For no reason, I drive myself crazy. 

I look into the mirror. I see a tired face, dark circles under my eyes, and several visible wrinkles. I am getting older, sigh. I scrunch my nose, which makes my wrinkles come out even more. Oh my goodness, I look just like my father. Actually, the older I get, the more I look like both my mother and my father. But my eyes and the way my wrinkles form remind me of my father’s face the most. I am 47, almost 48 years old. Late 40s. Another sigh. That’s almost 50. My father’s face, my father’s eyes stare back at me from the mirror. There is no makeup in existence that would cover this resemblance. I haven’t seen my father in about 28 years, I am guessing. But he is still present in my life. I don’t have to look too far. He is in my eyes and he is in the piano. Here. Around me. Every day.

Piano…it’s a constant presence, lifelong companion, a shadow that never leaves me. It’s behind me, in front of me, next to me, it’s everywhere. It’s a beast, it’s a monster, a friend, a confidant, an enemy, an obstacle. For years, I fought it. I fought it so hard, I fought for it to disappear forever. 

“Get lost already” I would shout at it. But it wouldn’t go. It wouldn’t listen. When I kicked it out of my life, stomped on it, it came back angry, refusing to budge. It came back slithering like a poisonous snake. When I reasoned with it and gently asked it to leave, it came crawling back again. Begging me, pleading with me. I became a weak human being next to it. Powerless. This instrument, this piece of wood, this piece of furniture has been controlling my life.

The fact is that the piano kept saving me through all these years.  Over and over again. It is because of the piano that I am here, in this country, living my best life. It has empowered me, it allowed me to be comfortable, it helped me survive. How do I refuse it now?

My identity is tied with this instrument. I am the piano. I feel naked and exposed without it. And useless too. I think it forcefully embedded itself into my DNA. It’s in my soul even though I didn’t ask for it to live there. If I am not careful, it will destroy my soul from within. I hate this feeling because this is how it keeps a hold of me. It sunk its clutches into my skin when I was a little girl and never let me go. The grip is strong and it hurts because it squeezes me so hard. And my father was the one who did this to me. He still doesn’t know it but he ruined my life. He doesn’t know it but every time I play and perform, he wins. He got what he wanted.  At the same time he set me up for a great future. How does that even make sense? This is the irony of my life that remains here with me forever. I am trying every single day to accept the piano into my life and make it my friend. I strive to cut the ties and pain of my childhood, forget about it, and accept the beauty of its music into my life instead. I realize that my existence is not possible without its presence. I know this now. It will find me. Always. Unfortunately. Fortunately? I don’t know. You can’t fight fate. Can you?

So, in the end, I am grateful. My life is great. I love it. I consider coming to America to be the best decision I have ever made in my life. I admire that Jarka back then. I don’t know how she went through everything she went through. And I want to thank her. I want to thank her for her courage and her resilience. For surviving all the challenges that got her to be able to enjoy today, to enjoy this day, this minute. If I could, I would go back to her and give her a big hug. And I would tell her not to worry because everything is going to be ok. You will survive and you will thrive. You will have a good life. Promise. 

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**I never finished my music degree from NGCSU. In my last semester, with one class to go, I was finally able to pay for school on my own. I changed my major and graduated with a psychology degree. My Music conservatory degree outweighs bachelors of music from a liberal arts college, and in my mind I don’t need it. 

Later on, I got a Master’s in marriage counseling as well. For a few years I worked in psychological testing and loved it! But always played at churches no matter where we moved.

**My mother married Joseph and they have been married for 25 years now! Longer than her marriage to my father.

**My father is in his 70s and lives in Slovakia. I still haven’t seen him because I haven’t been back to Slovakia in 27 years now. I have been avoiding everything Slovakian. I don’t speak it, I avoid Slovak people too. I can’t explain it. I truly ran away. My father is on my friends list on Facebook.

**My brother lives in Australia. Last time I saw him was in 2009, when he lived with me for a couple of years.

**John and I divorced in 2020, after 18 years of marriage. It was an amicable divorce. We are still friends and I have nothing but gratitude for him. For our years together and for our 3 beautiful children. My children are my life, they are my everything. 

** I am still in touch with John’s mother. In fact, I have her phone number saved as “Mom” in my phone.

**Ben and I have been Facebook friends for years. We actually chatted a little throughout my writing process. He has read my entire blog.

**Silvia and Tim have both passed away. I will never forget them.

**In 2023, I married the most amazing man. I found him thanks to the piano, of course. Couldn't be any other way. I got my proposal, a ring, and a wedding dress too.