Terror embodied

So there is a reality that I have not wanted to face for a very long time. I may have lost my gift. I haven't commitedly and successfully played piano since before I was beaten up. I wonder if the hits I took to the head when I was beaten up caused some brain damage that wouldn't be recognized. Most people think with a certain amount of their brain. I always found school easy until that day. After that, focusing became nearly impossible and anything that involved both sides of my brain at the same time is a chore. I can't seem to make my fingers do what they are supposed to. When I try to play, I can hear what the music should sound like in my head, but it doesn't sound like that when I try to play it. I know I have to be patient and try to practice, but I'm not used to having to practice very much. The music came to me before as if it was already a part of me. I could master a song in a matter of a month. I have now worked on the same songs for a month and they sound no better to my ears than they did when I began. Kenny Masters wrote a book called Effortless Mastery. He said in there that sometimes you will get to a point when it is about mastering everything at this level. He had a teacher who stopped this thinking. They stopped playing songs altogether. He had to do a 5 finger exercise over and over for his entire practice time. It wasn't about perfecting it or impressing anyone. It was about enjoying the exercise. This is a point that I haven't gotten to yet. I tried to jump in with guns blazing, but I don't think I'm ready yet. I want to go back to grade 7 and remind myself of the songs I loved that year. Grade 7 was the last time I really remember enjoying music. I know I can never completely go back, but maybe if I experience something that used to grab me, kind of like when worship has gone dry, sometimes experiencing something simple that used to light you on fire can reignite the flame.