"I don't know. I just can't practice any more, the thought of piano is making me miserable," my student says to me during a lesson. I remain unfazed by this statement as I unsuccessfully attempt to suppress what is likely the biggest eye roll in history.

It's a rare occurrence, but students will sometimes ask me about productivity tactics and strategies for better time management or general life and career advice. They sense that I'm into this Self-Development Stuff since I usually sprinkle these ideas throughout our lessons.

But most of them don't take the bait. It's like the saying you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink. And I've learned the hard way to not extend assistance if it isn't requested.

Yet even if they have that positive change of heart, it makes me nervous. Because it's like taking the red pill, you can't plug back into your previous life unless you're willing to lie to yourself until you draw your last breath.

I've seen the mental gymnastics a person does to achieve that prior state and it's disturbing to say the least, like the protagonist of a video game suddenly transforming into an NPC.

Deliberate ignorance is not bliss.

After my student made that unfortunate remark, the real issue came to light at our next lesson:

"I'm scared of growing up."

It felt useless to tell him what he already knew, that he's in his last year of high school and there's really no choice. What dawned on him much too late is that he's way, waaay behind schedule.

But there's something else going on when you peel back the layers of this proverbial onion.

In one of the most wicked experiments in history, researchers placed dogs in an inescapable enclosure where they were subjected to electrical currents. They then transferred these poor animals to another location where escape was easily possible.

Despite the continuing zaps, not a muscle moved:

They had learned to be helpless.

My student was in the same boat, but the shocks instead replaced with too comfortable of a life. To his credit, he attempted to put into action all the remedies I prescribed to him. Not an easy task considering it was the first time anyone had thrown down the gauntlet to him.

I rooted for him every step of the way, but he was fighting a losing battle. He lacked the discipline, self-efficacy, whatever-you-want-to-call-it to overcome his desire to conform with his peer group, to be at one with his sterile environment and bad habits.

And rather than confronting this uncomfortable truth he went to the lengths of telling his mother he wanted to quit piano, the false premise being that he wanted to focus on preparing for college.

Think about that - he removed the only person in his life that was trying to help him, a person who he had asked of his own accord.

(Remember those mental gymnastics?)

Though he seemed to wake up at our last sessions his chances are slim indeed, only a microscopic glimmer of hope that it will work out. Yet even if the cards of fortune are stacked against him, I choose to believe he'll get it together.

Although things didn't end well between us, I hope this is the sign of a new beginning for him. A fresh start, a path towards success however he defines it.

I don't know for certain what his future holds, but I know one thing for sure:

Comfort will kill you.

Cheers.