So Why Am I Doing This Anyway?

Today was shrink day, so I resumed my discussion of how to find an identity vis-a-vis the world of singing. My therapist asked me how it felt (the typical therapist question) to feel so frustrated and I said the interesting thing was it didn't make me want to stop singing. I said that the chain of events that was set in motion on Valentines Day happened for a reason and that I believed that my Higher Power (I feel funny saying "God" here, because in this instance I think the Higher Power in question was quite Pagan and Pan-like!)wanted me to hold onto this thread and not let it go until it had played itself out. And whatever frustrations I feel, singing is not over for me. There are really a variety of separate issues that all become intertwined. The first is that I still need to improve my vocal technique. This continues to improve, but my teacher often says that sometimes it is difficult to tease out what is a problem that can be fixed with technique, and what is a problem that is caused by physiological limits, which are greater in someone older who began singing later. (When I complain about my upper register, he says "you can only stretch a rubber band so far". He says he believes I can have a performance-worthy reliable B flat - which I sometimes do and sometimes don't - but probably nothing above that.) Then there is the issue of my age, not to mention people's perception of my age. I was quite surprised when my teacher told me that many people listening to me may think that the vocal flaws that I still have are the result of age, and that I am not in any sense, as that auditor politely told me, a "future investment". Not to be forgotten is the whole issue of a "culture" of singers and musicians, that I am not a part of. I have no friends who are musicians, other than the people I know at the church, and they are colleagues, not friends. Most of the people I socialize with are readers, writers, editors, museum-goers, and yes, concert goers, but not musicians. I did not go to a conservatory. Neither did most of the people who sang with me at those amateur groups in the 1970s (my teacher, I believe, has a high school diploma and began singing when he graduated). The people I would run into at these get togethers all knew, if not each other, then the same people, and had had many similar experiences. They just had no sense of me. I mean this is something I have experienced in other walks of life as well; sometimes I have been a part of the club and sometimes I have not. And there is absolutely no way I can ever catch up with this culture. I can sing better, but probably not well enough for anyone to be interested in me, other than my teacher, who told me he is pleasantly surprised that someone my age made this much progress, and my choir director, who, in addition to being grateful for the handful of people (myself included) with serious vocal training who are available to sing for free, is also deeply religious (in the best sense) and believes in encouraging everyone to make the most of themselves. So the question is basically as foolishly existential as "who am I"? I heard loud and clear that to derive an identity from something you are not really doing is "delusional". (I asked the therapist about that today and she said it was a matter of degree and that she did not consider me delusional.) But I am not ready to be just a nice woman in her 60s who sings as a hobby.