The Single Change That Worked: How I Overcame After-Work Stress Via an Surprising Find in the Attic

I often feel like a coiled spring once the workday ends. My shoulders grow tense, breathing becomes rapid and shallow. Typically, the sound of my laptop lid slamming shut would be followed by the squeak of a cork pulled from a bottle of red, the wine hastily sploshed into a glass, that first mouthful putting a much-needed full stop on the working day.

Then, a few months ago, I came across my now-adult son’s old school recorder in the attic. I idly blew into it, instantly reminded of the time when it drove me crazy – his daily rehearsals felt like an attack on my ears, the sharp sounds echoing in my mind hours after he had gone to bed.

But rather than consigning it to the bin, I brought it downstairs, together with a beginner’s songbook. Growing up, I had no musical talent whatsoever. I took recorder classes in primary school, yet never got to try other instruments.

Searching online for recorder tutorials, I viewed many kid-friendly YouTube clips, 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, it was something your average five-year-old could master before first break, but as a tone deaf, impatient and stressed 51-year-old, it seemed like a major triumph.

My son questioned my actions (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 carefully mimic the finger placements. My breath calmed, my attention sharpened, and after nailing that initial shaky melody, I was overjoyed. I could play an instrument.

Today, after some months, I can “play” other nursery rhymes 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 skill or being 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 learned that few kids play the recorder today, which probably relieves parents, but it made me a little sad and nostalgic for my own school days, and my son’s childhood.

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. And afterwards, I feel refreshed and happy.

My friends find it amusing, but one very wise therapist friend told me I was not only lowering my stress levels, and boosting mental skills, like memory and sound processing, which is precious at my age. And in terms of my day-to-day wellbeing, it’s a real “ode to joy” indeed.