My current saxophone is actually my second one. Its untouched. My original saxophone was lost unfortunately. When my family and I moved to a new house, I stored my saxophone in the basement temporarily (we were ensured by the previous owners that the basement is dry and safe).
Well, turned out that was a lie. That basement is damp as hell in summer and winter. My saxophone's (I had named her Hildegard, as all my band members named their instrument old fashioned German names) cork and leather portions and the velvet lining of its case were completely covered by black mould. It was beyond repair.
My insurance replaced it in full, and I now have a brand new saxophone. But I have not had any desire to play it once. Prior to this I had a very strained relationship to playing music already. I was unlucky with my sax and piano teachers, we never got on well. I also didn't like my band conductor. As a highly anxious, insecure and emotional teen, I never clicked with any of these very gruff and choleric old men who didn't have a spark of empathy in them. I started dreading every lesson. My sax teacher scolded me a lot and it made me want to shrink and be invisible.
My piano teacher told me "that's not real music" whenever I brought in my own sheet music of songs I wanted to learn so I could accompany myself and sing. He only liked classical music and didn't allow me to unfold.
My band conductor was really abrasive and improvising in front of the whole band was mandatory. I had difficulties remembering which scales I needed for which piece off the top of my head and improvisation therefore made me feel like a fish on land. I ended up terrified of our band concerts and practices, dreading the improv every time.
Bottom line: fear is NOT good for teaching, nor for learning anything.
Eventually I only kept up band and instruments because I was feeling guilty that my parents had paid classes and instruments for me. So when my original saxophone was gone, my last attachment to music vanished with it.
Its a great shame and something that makes me quite sad. I adore music. And I adore listening to saxophones. It always stings a little when I hear one, because in spite of it all, it was an important part of finding my identity growing up and it hurts that it ended in some sort of avoidant and strained relationship to music making.