The Surprising Story of What Happens When You Push Through Perfectionism
When I was a teenager, I fell in love with the piano. I never took lessons, never learned to read music the “proper” way, but that old upright piano in our living room became my refuge. Whenever life felt heavy, I would sit down, press a few keys, and let my emotions spill out into improvised songs. Little by little, I began composing my own music.
Of course, I wasn’t the only one who heard those melodies. My mom often caught snippets of music as it drifted through the halls of our home. She would pause, listen, and smile. And then one day, she offered me a piece of advice that would quietly shape my path:
“You should record your music. One day, you might want to listen back or maybe even share it with others.”
At first, I brushed it off. Who would want to listen to my raw, unfinished songs? But her encouragement stuck with me. Eventually, I took an old mp3 recorder, placed it on a table behind me, and pressed record. Song by song, I started capturing the pieces I had been creating in solitude.
Over weeks and months, those recordings began to add up. Four songs turned into eight, and before long, I had 14 original compositions, enough for an album.
With more encouragement, I decided to do something with those recordings. I gathered them into one collection, gave it a name, Gorgeous Melodies (a playful pun on my last name, since many people mispronounce it as “gorgeous”) and burned them onto CDs. I even designed and printed homemade artwork to slip into the cases.
I gave copies to friends and family, and that felt like a big step. But when it came to sharing the music more widely, I hesitated. The truth was, the recordings didn’t feel good enough. They were filled with imperfections—the faint echo of the room, the creak of the piano bench, even the sound of me cracking my knuckles mid-song. It felt too raw, too unpolished.
So, instead of putting it out into the world, I tucked the album away. My music stayed hidden for almost twenty years.
A Shift in Perspective
Then, life changed. I became a father.
Suddenly, perfection seemed less important than authenticity. I realized that if I kept waiting for everything to be flawless before sharing, I might never share anything at all. And worse, I might pass that same hesitation onto my daughter.
I didn’t want her to grow up thinking that creativity had to be perfect to be valuable. I wanted her to see that it’s okay to share your work, even when it’s raw and imperfect, that there’s beauty in the realness.
So, I went back to those old recordings, cleaned them up as best I could, and finally followed through on publishing that first album I had recorded nearly two decades earlier.
The Impact of Sharing
What happened next was more powerful than I ever could have imagined.
When I shared the album with my daughter, she listened with wide eyes. Then she ran straight over to the same piano I had leaned on as a teenager and began experimenting with her own songs. At just seven years old, she started recording herself singing her creations and proudly sharing them with me.
In that moment, I saw firsthand the ripple effect of sharing. My music, once hidden in fear of imperfection, had become a spark for her creativity. She wasn’t worried about being flawless—she was excited to express herself, to connect, to create.
And that’s when it hit me: this is what sharing does. It builds bridges. It connects people across generations. It inspires new ideas, new songs, new stories.
Why It Matters
Looking back, I realize that the greatest mistake wasn’t the knuckle cracking in the recording or the creak of the bench, it was hiding the music at all. By keeping it tucked away, I denied others the chance to experience it, and I denied myself the joy of connection.
But by finally sharing, I opened a door. And through that door came inspiration, connection, and an unexpected gift: seeing my daughter light up with her own creativity.
That’s the power of sharing. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be honest.
Listen to Gorgeous Melodies
After nearly twenty years, my first album is finally out in the world. It’s imperfect. It’s real. And it’s a piece of who I was, and who I am. I hope when you listen, you not only hear the music, but also feel the story behind it: the importance of creating, of sharing, and of connecting.
