The One Adjustment That Made a Difference: How I Conquered After-Work Stress Through an Unexpected Find in the Loft

One often feel as tense as a wound-up clock once the workday ends. Tension grips my shoulders, my breath turns fast and shallow. Typically, the sound of my laptop lid slamming shut used to lead to the squeak of a cork pulled from a bottle of red, wine poured quickly into a glass, that initial sip marking the end of the workday.

Later, several months back, I came across my now-adult son’s old school recorder in the attic. Curious, I blew into it, instantly reminded of the time when it drove me crazy – his daily practice a violent assault on my eardrums, the sharp sounds echoing in my mind hours after he had gone to bed.

But rather than consigning it to the bin, I took it down, along with a book – Very Easy Recorder Tunes. Growing up, I was the least musical child ever. 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, I felt excited when I played a recognizable Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Yes, it was something your average five-year-old could master before first break, yet for a stressed, impatient, musically-challenged adult, it seemed like a major triumph.

My son asked what the hell I was doing (and begged me to quit), but I kept going – I enjoyed the sensation the recorder gave me. My inability to remember anything forced me to focus on the music sheet, and painstakingly copy the finger positions. My breath calmed, I was focused, and after nailing that initial shaky melody, I felt euphoric. I could play an instrument.

Now, after some months, I can “play” other nursery rhymes and a passable Ode to Joy. Sure, my rhythm is off, and I must jot down note names, but to me, it’s not about being skilled or a “musician” – it’s purely about the joy it provides and the fact I can’t think of anything else when I am playing.

I read that only one in six children learn to play the recorder now, which was no doubt music to parents’ ears, but it made me a little sad and nostalgic for my own school days, as well as my son’s.

I try to pick up my recorder every evening after work as my first activity, and in those 20 or so 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, and boosting mental skills, such as memory and auditory processing, which is precious at my age. For daily wellness, it’s truly an ode to joy.