My One Adjustment That Made a Difference: The Way I Conquered Post-Work Tension Via an Surprising Find in the Attic

One frequently become like a coiled spring once the workday ends. My shoulders grow tense, my breath turns fast and shallow. Usually, 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 first mouthful putting a much-needed full stop on the working day.

Then, several months back, I came across my now-adult son’s old school recorder in the attic. I idly 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 piercing shriek still reverberating through my head long after he slept.

Instead of throwing it away, I took it down, together with a beginner’s songbook. As a child, I was the least musical child ever. I took recorder classes in primary 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. I searched “easiest recorder tunes”, and was thrilled when I managed to knock out a passable 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 questioned my actions (and begged me to quit), but I persevered – 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 breathing slowed down, my attention sharpened, and once I’d mastered that first faltering tune, I was overjoyed. I had managed to play music.

Today, after some months, I can handle other children’s songs and a decent Ode to Joy. Yes, my rhythm is off, and I must jot down note names, but to me, it’s not about skill or being 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 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 before I do anything else, and in those 20 or so minutes, I escape into my own realm. And afterwards, I feel refreshed and happy.

My friends think it’s hilarious, yet a therapist friend informed me that I was reducing stress, but improving my cognitive skills, like memory and sound processing, which is precious at my age. For daily wellness, it’s truly an ode to joy.