Houston, this is a problem

I grew up in a Mormon family where piano was a must. Really, what Mormon kid didn't grow up in a family where an instrument was a must? 
As any one of my siblings will testify it was one of those things that caused unnecessary drama in the household. Poor little ADHD Sadie lacked the attention span to spend one consecutive hour sitting on one hard bench looking at the same black and white keys. It was only a matter of minutes before I had found my way back into the kitchen where exciting things like conversation, food, and human civilization were taking place. My frequent trips away from my assigned position did nothing for my mothers patience. I mean my mother and I did not fight much through my youth, but I do believe that the majority of our disputes happened during that one hour of practicing. 
It's slightly pathetic if you think about it.  One hour of my day, less than seven hours a week, and it was such a struggle for me to get through.


And now here I am, a college freshman, finding myself piano-free for the first time in over ten years. No mother to tell me to practice, no teacher to check my progress, no practice record to fill out...


...except for, wait, I actually do have all of the above. Just not the mother telling me to get back to the piano part. 
At the start of the semester I thought it would be a good idea to sign up for a piano class, ya know, to keep up on my knowledge. Eleven years of learning down the drain just didn't seem like the best way to go. 


Maybe that was a smart thing of me to do, the whole trying to not forget what I had learned thing. But as I sit here on my bed, finding every single excuse I can to not go practice the piano, I am telling myself that never, ever again will I do this to myself. No more self-inflicted forced piano practicing.


<3