Piano: the strength within

About three years ago I became obsessed in the piano, with the help of adderall XR, along with the desire to prove myself as supreme technician of the keys. I had first taken up the instrument at around the age of eight, but for the longest time I served as a mere chipper. Given my immaturity at the time, I couldn't bring myself to develop a steady practice routine. So when I discovered a newfound interest in the piano, I attempted to make up for lost time. Each day I would consume two 20 mg adderall XR capsules, and proceed to practice myself to death, beyond the point of reproach; the number of hours a day I cannot possibly mutter let alone fathom. I quickly lost the rust that had accumulated over time, and I hastily sought improvement. I missed out on one crucial but of importance though; the secret to playing the piano, to pull the passages off with bravado, is to attain the strength within the mind, rather than the physical strength. Even though I practiced in quantity, I failed to practice properly; slowly and carefully while working to maintain an ideal utilization and support system of and for the muscles. That I ignored this bit of advice from my old piano teacher was the cause of my temporary undoing. I placed a tremendous deal of unnecessary stress on my wrists and forearms, and my posture was very stiff. I continued to abuse my body until one day it caved in and I began receiving shooting pain in my forearms and upper neck and back. The pain was unpredictable; it could be burning pain one minute in the right arm, and dull pain the next minute in the upper left trapezius muscle. It rendered me incapable of playing for almost six months, all because I had overdone it, gone way too far. I was miserable indeed, and yet as I slowly began to recover through physical therapy and cessation of practice, the pain that was still present had diminished and yet was such that I was forced to practice in a manner in which the playing was relatively effortless. Now the wrist wasn't doing all the work; a perfect utopia had formed between fingers, wrists, arms, shoulder blades, and back. Ah, much better. Another good thing came out of the break. I was given a lot of time to reflect on the musical qualities of the repertoire I had previously learned, rather than study the piece mindlessly, without a sense of any sort of direction or lyricism. For these reasons, I feel that the injury that I sustained was almost a blessing, a learning lesson, rather than a curse.