Who am I?

A Life-Changing Diagnosis

In 2018, I was diagnosed with Musicians’ Focal Dystonia (Task-Specific Focal Dystonia) in my embouchure. This neurological condition is characterised by muscle cramps, involuntary movements, and spasms that occur during highly trained, repetitive tasks—such as playing a musical instrument. As the name suggests, “focal” refers to its effect on a specific region of the body. In my case, it affected my embouchure, tongue, and oromandibular region—all essential for playing my instrument.

At first, it felt like nothing more than mild discomfort—an unusual fatigue, tension, and slight discoordination while playing. But over time, every attempt to play, every contact between the mouthpiece and my lips, triggered involuntary contractions. The simple act of making music—something that had been second nature—became impossible.

This condition changed my life and career overnight, pushing me into one of the most challenging periods I had ever faced. I could no longer perform. I felt lost, struggling to navigate a reality where the core of my identity had been stripped away. A relentless question echoed in my mind:

“Who am I without the ability to perform?”

“Who am I beyond my instrument?”

Silence, Fear, and Stigma

When I first noticed the signs of Focal Dystonia, I had no idea what it was. I tried to describe my symptoms to colleagues, mentors, and teachers, hoping for guidance. But instead of support, I often faced judgment, doubt, and misunderstanding. The fear of being seen as less capable, less professional, less of a musician silenced me.

At the time, I was juggling a professional role in an orchestra, teaching, and completing my Bachelor’s in Music Performance. My teachers—despite their best efforts—simply didn’t have the knowledge or tools to recognise a performance-related condition like Embouchure Focal Dystonia.

Even more disheartening, the university where I was studying in Lisbon refused to acknowledge my struggles. Every formal request for support was rejected. Their priority was preserving the status and reputation of the institution rather than providing the mental and physical support that performance students desperately needed. This made one thing painfully clear: The structure of artistic education does not adequately support musicians’ physical or mental well-being.

A Turning Point

After months of denial, frustration, and rumination, I reached a moment of clarity. I began researching my condition independently, determined to understand what was happening. Along the way, I connected with specialists from Germany, the UK, Spain, and Portugal, as well as professionals from other fields who helped me see beyond just the physical symptoms of Focal Dystonia.

What I learned went deeper than a neurological condition. I began to question my artistic identity—not just what I had lost, but what being an artist truly meant. Through rehabilitation, training programs, and self-discovery, I found a new purpose:

Raising Awareness and Breaking Taboos

Instead of allowing my condition to define me, I chose to dedicate my life to raising awareness about health and well-being in the performing arts. The stigma surrounding physical and mental health issues in music prevents so many artists from seeking help. It’s time to challenge outdated mindsets and advocate for meaningful change.

We all come from different backgrounds, experiences, and perspectives. Yet, the culture of perfectionism, fear of failure, and lack of education about performance-related conditions is a common issue across the arts.

For a long time, I believed that without my instrument, I had no other options. After dedicating 15 years of my life to professional performance, I couldn’t see a way forward. But then, I asked myself: