In the beginning........ There was a keyboard and a young girl. 

I still remember my very first instrument, well, Santa’s gift to me.

I must’ve been about 8 years old when I woke up on Christmas morning to find a little portable keyboard waiting for me under the tree. I don’t remember asking for it, but it became such a core memory. It came with one of those easy-to-play songbooks, and for the next 10 years, that keyboard followed me through life, through house moves, growing up, and all the in-between.

Music Returns, When I Least Expected It

Fast forward about 15 years, and music had quietly slipped out of my life.

It wasn’t until 2020, when my husband and I bought Music Specialists, that things began to shift again. In that first year, I experienced a huge personal loss, my beloved dog passed away. And on the day I lost him, I walked out of the store with a ukulele and a ukulele club songbook.

I didn’t know it at the time, but that quiet moment sparked the return of music in my life.

Every Instrument Has a Story

Today, I own:

• 3 guitars
• 2 tin whistles
• 2 ukuleles
• 1 piano
• 1 mandolin
• 1 violin

Each of these instruments holds a little piece of my story—tied to memories, emotions, and dreams.

The tin whistles and violin are souvenirs of sorts from my first trip to Ireland and my deep love of Irish music.

The piano is a legacy from the music school that used to be part of our store. So many local kids have sung and played at that very piano. For me, it’s a space of peace, a place I go when I need to reset or reconnect with worship music and my faith.

The guitar? That one’s a bit of a different story.

I picked up the guitar mostly because I didn’t know how to play it, and being a music store owner, I figured I probably should.

I learnt the basics: C, G, D, Am, Em, how to tune... enough to get by. But in our home and our business, Tulley is the guitarist. It’s his passion, and he plays with ease and experience. And while we’ve strummed songs together and I’ve felt joy in those moments, I found myself feeling challenged. Why? Well............

Comparison had well and truly crept in.

Actually let’s be honest it didn’t creep in. It knocked loudly at my door, my 3 dogs barked at it and I still flung the door wide open and welcomed it in with a Tim Tam and a cup of tea.

And we all know how that goes: comparison is the thief of joy.

Enter the Mandolin (and a Little Rebellion)

To restore my joy in music, I did something that was part rebellious, part funny, part thinking this is cheaper than marriage counselling: I decided I was going to learn an instrument Tulley couldn’t play.

I roped our Music Specialists community into the decision-making too, asking whether I should pick up the mandolin or the banjo.

And in the end, the mandolin found a home in our home.

Looking back, I know now, it really wasn’t about trying to be better than anyone else (let’s be honest, Tulley has almost 40 years of playing experience on me). It was about finding something that felt like mine. A personal connection. A place to explore my musical identity without comparison muddying the joy.

I have one goal really when it comes to learning the mandolin. Not just to enjoy the instrument. But to competently play When You Were Sweet Sixteen - By The Fureys (albeit normally played on banjo - My favourite version below). 

https://youtu.be/3e-mkINU5GY?list=RD3e-mkINU5GY

Why I Really Stopped Playing

Here’s the truth: I didn’t stop learning the guitar, piano, or violin because they were too hard. (Or even because of my ADHD habits of bouncing between hobbies.)

I stopped because I was constantly comparing my beginning to someone else’s middle or worse, their decades-long experience. And when you do that, it’s so easy to lose heart. I was focusing on the wrong things entirely.

The Highlight Reel Trap Is Real

But the reality is, it’s such an easy trap to fall into, especially today. We’re surrounded by polished highlight reels, You Tube videos, social media posts, especially in music.

You scroll online and see lightning-fast solos, flawless technique, and picture-perfect performances. What we don’t see are the hours of frustration, the sore fingers, the wrong notes, and the emotional dips that come with learning an instrument.

We just see the result and assume we’ll never measure up.

But Here’s the Better Truth

There’s beauty in starting something new.

There’s something really special about being a beginner. Every new chord feels like a win. The first time I strummed a clean G chord on the mandolin, I felt like I’d conquered Everest.

That kind of joy... It’s fragile. And nothing chips away at it faster than comparison.

Playing for Me

What changed everything for me was a simple mindset shift.

I stopped trying to be impressive or competitive or trying to get to the end game as fast as possible. I've started playing because it makes me feel good.

I've begun to enjoy the sound of my playing, even if it's not perfect. I smile when I nail a chord progression, even if it was slower than it should’ve been. I have stopped waiting until I am “good enough” to enjoy it.

And something amazing has happened:

I have started improving. And improving with more confidence because I am more present with the music.

And not because I am trying to be like anyone else—but because I am playing for me.
And there’s nothing more joyful than that.

You Are Not Alone (and if you just heard that in Michael Jackson’s voice, welcome to the club-admission is free)

If you’d asked me this morning whether I planned to write this, I’d have said, “Absolutely not.” But here we are.

Because playing music is storytelling. It’s vulnerability. And I know I’m not the only one who’s felt this way.

Whether you’ve been playing for six months, ten years, or fifty—if you’ve ever felt like your joy’s been chipped away by comparison, you’re not alone.

Your Sound Matters - It Matters Because It's You. 

If you’re learning an instrument, whether it’s a mandolin, guitar, or even a triangle. Please let me remind you:

Your sound matters.

Your rhythm, your timing, your feel. It’s unique. And it’s valuable.

Music isn’t a competition.
It’s a conversation.
It’s expression.
It’s release.

When we stop trying to “measure up,” we create space for joy to step in.
We make room for curiosity, for creativity, for progress.

Final Thoughts

So wherever you are on your musical journey, I hope you remember this:

Comparison is the thief of joy.
But presence?
Presence is the spark of passion.

Play for you.
Play because it feels good.
And never forget… every great player was once a beginner, too.