Adult Piano Journey: Starting at 35

Today I performed Chopin's Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2 for an audience of friends and family. Not perfectly, but genuinely musical. My hands were shaking, I missed some notes, but captured the emotion. The journey from not knowing where middle C was to playing one of my dream pieces feels surreal. Many people approached me afterward saying they couldn't believe I'd only been playing for 18 months.

After months of struggling, something clicked with scales. My fingers suddenly found a flowing rhythm through all 12 major and minor scales. This has been my biggest technical hurdle—I'd practice for hours feeling like I was making no progress, my hands feeling alien and awkward. The plateau was so discouraging I nearly quit. Then today, mysteriously, my hands remembered what my conscious mind couldn't teach them.

Completed Bach's Prelude in C Major (WTC Book I). This is the first piece where I feel I've truly mastered every element—the flowing arpeggios, the subtle dynamic changes, the pedaling. Six weeks ago I was ready to give up on it, certain my hands weren't capable of the consistent evenness required. My teacher suggested recording myself daily, which revealed subtle timing issues I couldn't hear while playing. Watching the improvement in these recordings was profoundly motivating.

One year in and I'm attempting my first 'impossible' piece—Debussy's 'Clair de Lune.' To mark the anniversary, I recorded the first page, which took weeks to learn. It's still rough, but recognizable. Looking back at my day-1 recording (playing 'Twinkle Twinkle' with one finger) makes me emotional. Progress wasn't linear—had a 3-week period in July where I seriously considered selling the piano. So glad I pushed through that valley.

Pushed too hard preparing for a small recital and developed pain in my right wrist. Diagnosed with mild tendonitis. Doctor and teacher both ordered two weeks of complete rest, then a careful return to playing. I'm devastated and scared—what if this happens again? What if it's permanent? Learning proper technique wasn't just about playing better, but avoiding exactly this. Feel like I've failed, but my teacher assures me this happens to most pianists at some point.

Performed 'Für Elise' (simplified version) at a student recital. I was the only adult among kids ages 7-16. Absolutely terrifying! My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hit the keys. Messed up twice and had to restart a section. Surprisingly, got hugely supportive feedback—apparently, the emotion came through despite mistakes. One parent told me I inspired them to start lessons too. The vulnerability was worth it.

Hit a serious plateau around the 6-month mark. Everything I play sounds wooden and technical. My fingers won't do what my brain asks, especially with hand independence. Spent three practice sessions in tears from frustration. My teacher suggested taking a complete break from my regular pieces and gave me a simple jazz piece instead. The change in style and reduced technical demands freed something up—suddenly remembering why I started this journey.

Completed Bach's Minuet in G in its original form (not a simplified version). The coordination between hands felt impossible at first. After dozens of frustrating attempts playing hands separately, the first time I successfully played hands together through the whole piece was magical. I recorded and sent it to my parents, who were skeptical about this 'midlife crisis hobby.' Their impressed reaction was validating beyond words.

Finally understanding the bass clef! For weeks, I'd take 30+ seconds to identify each note, making playing painfully slow. Spent a week using flashcards during every spare moment—on the train, waiting for coffee, even in bathroom breaks at work. Today I sight-read a simple left-hand pattern without stopping. This small victory feels enormous—suddenly the entire lower half of the keyboard isn't foreign territory anymore.

One month in, and the initial excitement has worn off, replaced by frustration. My fingers feel clumsy and uncooperative. Told my teacher I was concerned I started too late in life. She showed me videos of her 80-year-old student who began at 65 and now plays Chopin. Also assigned me a simple but beautiful piece (Schumann's 'Melody') that's just challenging enough while still being achievable. When I played it through today, I felt a spark of what this could become.

Had my first piano lesson today at age 35. Couldn't read a note of music or find middle C. My teacher had me play 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star' with one finger—felt ridiculous but also exciting. Purchased a digital piano that was delivered during the lesson. My teacher recorded my playing 'Twinkle' as a baseline. I'm simultaneously embarrassed and thrilled to have finally started something I've postponed for decades, telling myself 'it's too late.'