The Single Adjustment That Worked: How I Overcame After-Work Tension Through an Surprising Discovery in the Loft

I frequently become like a coiled spring once the workday ends. My shoulders grow tense, my breath turns fast and shallow. Usually, closing my laptop with a thud would be followed by 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.

Then, several months back, I discovered an old school recorder belonging to my grown son in the attic. Curious, I blew into it, instantly reminded of the time 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.

But rather than consigning it to the bin, I took it down, together with a beginner’s songbook. Growing up, I was the least musical child ever. I took recorder classes in primary school, but never had the opportunity to learn other instruments.

Searching online for recorder tutorials, 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, but as a tone deaf, impatient and stressed 51-year-old, it seemed like a major triumph.

My son asked what the hell I was doing (and please could I stop), but I kept going – I liked the way the recorder made me feel. My inability to remember anything forced me to focus on the music sheet, and carefully mimic the finger placements. My breath calmed, I was focused, 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 decent 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 in those 20 or so minutes, I am in my own little world. Afterward, I feel refreshed and happy.

My friends think it’s hilarious, but one very wise therapist friend told me that I was reducing stress, but improving my cognitive skills, such as memory and auditory processing, which is invaluable at my time of life. And in terms of my day-to-day wellbeing, it’s a real “ode to joy” indeed.