When a wrist costs a dream

Bethany Ewell watched as her friends tuned their instruments on the stage of the Newel and Jean Daines Concert Hall. They were preparing to play Mahler’s Third Symphony, an exploration of nature and humankind, of the comfort of grace, of the burning of pain. 

Austrian guest conductor Christoph Campestrini made his way onto the stage. The Utah State University Symphony Orchestra readied their instruments. With a tap of his baton, Campestrini directed the ensemble of musicians to begin the first piece of the night.

At first, Ewell held herself together. It wasn’t until the clarinets started to play that she felt tears falling down her cheeks. Frustration and sadness bubbled inside her. She wished she could be up there, putting her heart into her principal instrument, the clarinet. Instead, she was sitting in the audience and observing the symphony.

Like an outsider.

A chronic condition in Ewell’s wrist has left her unable to play the clarinet. Or the piano. Or the guitar, trumpet, saxophone, flute, baritone, euphonium or bass clarinet. In the wake of this loss, she has found herself directionless and despondent.

Some psychology professors at USU say that’s not unusual, especially for students who have been told they can do anything they set their minds to. 

For while there might be nothing wrong with reaching for the stars, the fall is long and hard.

Ewell’s right wrist started hurting in high school. She isn’t sure where the pain stemmed from, and neither are the six doctors she has visited since then. 

Ewell chose to come to USU because she wanted to pursue a degree in music therapy. According to a page about USU’s music therapy degree, music therapy “uses music to address the physical, emotional, cognitive, and social needs of individuals of all ages.” Music therapists help others improve their health and manage stress, according to the site.

Musical therapy was the ideal major for Ewell because music was something that was easy for her to get passionate about, especially since music is always changing, and there’s always something to learn. She had an emotional connection to music.

Even though her wrist hurt, Ewell joined the USU Symphony Orchestra in the spring of 2018 and took private piano lessons. Then a cyst developed in her wrist. That fall, the pain got to the point that she chose to get surgery, as recommended by her doctor.

The surgery forced Ewell to quit her lessons and the orchestra. She had to hope her wrist would heal in time to be accepted into the Music Therapy degree program, which requires students to participate in two auditions.

Her wrist didn’t heal, causing her pain while she practiced for the auditions. She was allowed to skip the first audition because of her wrist.

When she played for the second audition, she “totally biffed it.” 

“I know I’m better than how I performed, but I couldn’t do better,” Ewell said. “Either my wrist didn’t heal right, or the surgery didn’t help.”

After the audition, Ewell was invited into the USU Department of Music by USU Music Therapy Program director Maureen Hearns. This would give Ewell another chance to pass the audition. Though she desperately wanted to be part of the program, Ewell knew there was no longer a future for her in music therapy. 

Ewell formally declined the department’s offer a month later, costing her numerous scholarships. 

“It’s really unfortunate when students drop out of the music therapy program,” USU Department of Music academic adviser Cary Youmans said. “A lot of the courses students take for the program don’t translate to other music degrees. So they get stuck, and we scramble to help them graduate.” He said students should be prepared to consider a Plan B when things go awry.

For Youmans, music didn’t open any doors after getting a Master of Church Music degree. Looking back, he said he shouldn’t have been a music major. “There’s no guarantee for natural success, but that doesn’t mean parents should stop encouraging their kids,” Youmans said. 

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Since the audition, Ewell hasn’t played a single instrument. She can’t lift a jug of milk without her hand shaking. Writing causes her pain, too.

“I have no plans for the future,” Ewell said as she petted her three-legged cat named Tinkerbell. “I have never found something else I’m passionate about like I am with music.” She paused for a moment. Ewell’s red hair draped her somber face in the dim lighting of the living room. After a sigh, she said, “If I could do anything, I would do music.”

USU psychology professor Renee Galliher said Ewell’s loss of direction is a common experience for people who have identity-related stress. “Her being a musician and then not being that anymore is a grief process,” she said. “You have the choice of changing who you are or changing your behavior.” According to Galliher, everyone wants to feel aligned and coherent.

Keli Capel, who has been friends with Ewell since high school, said, “Beth wants to pursue her dream no matter what, but she’s not going to be able to finish what she started.” 

“People going through these types of situations often feel trapped,” USU psychology professor Michael Twohig said. “It’s a big life change, and identities are pretty important.” He said he sees situations similar to Ewell’s around big life shifts. “It can be difficult to move forward, especially when related to anxiety and depression,” Twohig said. 

Bethany Ewell’s mom, Allison Ewell, is devastated. “As a mom, watching your kid suffer is heartbreaking and personal. She used to be confident, and now she’s floundering,” she said. “Not being able to play music altered Beth’s life path. She is still passionate about music, but her whole person has changed.”  

According to a study conducted by Peter A. Creed and Ruth-Eva Gagliardi in 2014, 175 university graduates assessed whether career compromise was related to career distress and other factors. Career compromise is changing one’s career goals to accommodate to uncontrollable circumstances, according to Creed and Gagliardi. 

In their study, Creed and Gagliardi stated, “When students reported having compromised on their career path, they also reported experiencing distress in relation to their progress. … Dissatisfaction results when goals are adjusted downward.” They also said career compromise in young adults is likely to be widespread, as individuals come up against the realities of preparing for a career.

Being unwilling to compromise on her music career may be why Ewell is unsatisfied with the psychology degree she’ll be attaining this fall.

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“Beth just happened to choose psychology since it was her second choice. While she may be succeeding in psychology, she’s not putting her heart into it as much as she put into her music therapy degree,” Timothy Hallmark said, who is Ewell’s boyfriend. 

Psychology was Ewell’s second choice because, when she sat down with her roommate at the time, most of the interested classes they saw had something to do with psychology. In particular, she was interested in neuroscience and behavioral analysis psychology. 

Ewell worked in Logan over the summer at a disability services company called Chrysalis. There, she provided intensive behavioral services to children with Autism Spectrum Disorder. The job had been exhausting and hard on her, especially on her mental health. 

Because the job at Chrysalis hadn’t been as fulfilling as she’d hoped it would be, Ewell is considering going back to school after she graduates. Though, she wouldn’t know what for.

Ewell is still taking vocal lessons and music theory classes through USU before she graduates. “I fill my time with other stuff besides playing music,” she said. “Although, anytime music is played or my friends from band bring it up, I realize how much I miss it.” 

Another study published in 2018 by Creed, Melisa Kaya and Michelle Hood, with a sample of 286 young adults, found those with a high vocational (or occupational) identity “reported less willingness to compromise.” Willingness to compromise operates to preserve identity homeostasis, according to the study. 

Thus, those who have a high occupational identity are going to defend their identity to keep homeostasis, “which young adults might use to … protect themselves from discomfort and the need to reevaluate goals/standards,” stated Creed, Kaya and Hood. 

“For Beth, music is so out of reach that she can’t physically grab it. It’s like an itch she can’t scratch,” Hallmark said.

“She based a lot of her self-worth on her experiences with music in high school,” Thory Van Dyke said, a friend of Ewell. “I think she’s on a good path, considering she can’t play music anymore.”

Ewell’s still grieving over her dead dream. 

On a Tuesday, Ewell walked into one of the windowless classrooms in the basement of the University Reserve building. The room was old and broken down, much like the rest of the place. Ewell’s vocal professor, Melissa Hamilton, was waiting for her in the little room. It was the first time the two of them had met. 

Ewell set down her backpack. The two introduced themselves. 

Then Hamilton smiled and said, “What’s your major?” The two started talking about Ewell’s past in music. Ewell explained how she can’t play music anymore due to a wrist injury. 

Looking at Ewell’s wrist, Hamilton said, “It looks like that is really hurting you.”

Ewell burst into tears.