My One Change That Made a Difference: The Way I Overcame After-Work Stress Via an Surprising Find in the Attic

One often feel like a coiled spring once the workday ends. Tension grips my shoulders, breathing becomes rapid and shallow. Typically, the sound of my laptop lid slamming shut would be followed by the pop of a cork from a wine bottle, the wine hastily sploshed into a glass, that initial sip marking the end of the workday.

Then, a few months ago, I came across an old school recorder belonging to my grown son in the attic. I idly blew into it, immediately transported back to the days it was the bane of my life – his daily practice a violent assault on my eardrums, the sharp sounds echoing in my mind long after he slept.

Instead of throwing it away, I took it down, together with a beginner’s songbook. Growing up, I had no musical talent whatsoever. I’d had recorder lessons at infant school, yet never got to try other instruments.

Googling “how to play the recorder”, I watched dozens of YouTube videos aimed at children, and printed out a fingering chart. Looking up simple recorder songs, and was thrilled when I managed to knock out a passable Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Admittedly, a typical young child could learn it quickly, yet for a stressed, impatient, musically-challenged adult, it seemed like a major triumph.

My son questioned my actions (and please could I stop), but I persevered – I liked the way the recorder made me feel. Forgetting notes easily forced me to focus on the music sheet, and painstakingly copy the finger positions. My breathing slowed down, my attention sharpened, and once I’d mastered that first faltering tune, I felt euphoric. I had managed to play music.

Today, several months later, I can handle other children’s songs and a passable Ode to Joy. Sure, my rhythm is off, and I still need to write the names of the notes down, but for me, it’s not about being skilled or a “musician” – it is simply about the pleasure it brings and the fact I can’t think of anything else when I am playing.

I learned that few kids play the recorder today, which was no doubt music to parents’ ears, yet it made me wistful for my school years, and my son’s childhood.

I try to pick up my recorder every evening after work before I do anything else, and during those 20 minutes, I am in my own little world. Afterward, I feel refreshed and happy.

My friends find it amusing, yet a therapist friend informed me that I was reducing stress, but improving my cognitive skills, such as memory and auditory processing, which is precious at my age. For daily wellness, it’s a real “ode to joy” indeed.