I have to be the one

“Why this clover, on this day? Why this cliff, overlooking this sea? Am I but a product of my circumstances? Who am I, really?” (Image by Fred T.)

Back in the olden days, I prided myself on being able to customize each music lesson to the needs and requirements of the student.

I benefited from this versatility. It meant that every student was a good fit. When a family wanted rock guitar for one kid and classical piano for the other, I could deliver, building an equally good rapport with the thirteen-year-old boy and the seven-year-old girl.

However, as I progressed in my career — and as my students progressed — this standard became unreasonable. I was starting to develop a stronger identity as a teacher, discovering deeper strengths and preferences. In order to hang on to the story that I could do anything and be anything as a music educator, I would have to spend increasing amounts of time and energy on stuff I didn’t enjoy and wasn’t good at.

Believing that I was the solution to every prospective client’s problem was hampering my growth and doing students a disservice. Though I was making a genuine effort to be useful and helpful to others, I was actually just making it about me.

When I stopped tying my self-concept to being the music teacher who could teach anyone, I made room to develop other aspects of my professional identity. I also made room for others to contribute, whether as music teachers themselves or in an administrative capacity, fielding all of those precious calls from prospective clients that I had, for so long, believed I was the only one who could take.

This stuff can really sneak up on us. I know it snuck up on me. I’m sure that I am currently harboring beliefs about myself and my place in the universe that are holding me back.

Any time I believe that I have to be the one to solve a particular problem or fill a particular role, it’s likely that I am setting myself up to try too hard, take on too much, and hinder everyone’s progress (including my own).

If I can make room for everyone’s unique genius to shine through (including my own), I can contribute in a way that I am uniquely suited to.

Otherwise, I’m one of Cinderella’s ugly stepsisters, attempting to force my foot into a glass slipper that doesn’t fit.

What a relief it can be to let go of the pressure we put on ourselves to be a certain way. Maybe we grew up in a family system where we had to be the nice one, the fun one, the smart one, or the capable one. As adults, though, we don’t have to hang onto the old rules and roles we once had. We can express all of the colors of our personalities. We can be complex and weird. Other people might not like it, but that’s about them, not us.

Maybe the students who got the “perfect attendance” award in school genuinely had the robust immune systems to facilitate that. However, in my grade, it was the kid whose parents both worked in the schools and whose grandfather was the namesake of our gymnasium. I wonder what would have happened if his family culture had come up against something like mononucleosis. Which wins out: identity or reality?

It’s not easy to let go of what we think we should be doing and who we think we should be, especially if these assumptions are so deep-seated that they’ve become invisible to us. If things are feeling heavy, shedding some of these layers can give us a little space to explore, experiment, and figure out what we want to do next. We don’t have to be beholden to the way we’ve always done it and the way we’ve always been.

You don’t have to be the solution to everyone’s problem, a force of nature, or the answer to someone’s prayer. You don’t have to try to meet everyone’s needs or exceed their expectations. You don’t have to be the one. You can just be you, just as you are.