Hanging It Up

I returned my rental viola today. I hadn’t touched it in over a month, so it felt like time. I picked it up back in April. It was one, last-ditch effort to renew my study of music. I guess it didn’t really work out as I hoped.

I started playing violin when I was five years old. I loved it, but an injured finger saw that stop after only a few years. It took decades to heal to the point where I could try it again. The doctors have never found out what went wrong with it. But I did pick it up again, a few years back. I took lessons, got as good as I’ve ever been, probably.

Then I injured a different finger, this time from the playing itself. My hands are large now and I couldn’t get the angles right. I torqued a joint one too many times and playing was off the table again.

I thought that maybe, just maybe, the viola would be a workable substitute. The finger spacing is wider and larger hands grip the neck better. I did find it to be more comfortable to play. I even picked up the alto clef pretty easily. It was harder to get used to the different note range. It never felt quite right.

In the end, though, it was just another victim of depression and my long-lasting exhaustion. I just didn’t have the energy to put into it. I played less and less, stagnating any progress, and eventually stopped altogether.

It’s not like I couldn’t go back some day, if I ever figure out the solution to this constant fatigue. But this time felt different. It really felt like giving up for good.