You would think that your child’s elementary music department would discontinue its tradition of giving its third graders a recorder during a Pandemic and home instruction. Alas, that is not the case, and my son’s recorder came home a few weeks ago to our utter dismay.
Not only is listening to the recorder an unpleasant experience, but apparently learning to play it is equally as frustrating. As if by divine providence, my son decided to prep for his virtual music lesson by asking Alexa to play “Under Pressure” by Queen. Like a Quarterback gearing up for a game, my son was gearing up for a successful music lesson.
Pumped by Queen and David Bowie, my son queued up the teacher’s lesson and began. The music teacher began playing the beginning chords of the haunting melody from the Titanic’s “My Heart Will Go On”. My son attempted to follow the lesson, but was not successfully blowing into his instrument. His pitch was off. He was blowing too hard. The recorder spit out a shrill, ear piercing sound.
My son was frustrated and started the video instruction again. Again the teacher played the hair-raising introduction to “My Heart Will Go On,” and again, my son’s attempt at mimicking the melody ended in a
high pitched shriek. Naturally, this is happening as live zoom calls are taking place. My son is determined to master his recorder.
He is frustrated, and begins his third attempt. My ears begin to feel like they are bleeding and I feel like I am drowning with the Titanic. My stress level is rising, as our entire family is held hostage by the recorder, with a conference call in the next room, and my daughter’s science zoom class in yet another room. My son is frustrated and begins to get teary eyed and to lose his cool. It’s like watching a volcano right before it is about to spew molten lava miles into the air.
In an attempt to deflect, I immediately hit the next link posted by the music teacher. It is the goodbye song. For the last music class before Christmas, the music teacher chose to sing her favorite holiday song – “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”
It is a song I have listened to and sung hundreds of times over the course of my life. For some reason, the lyrics and the melody hit me like a tidal wave and I began to cry. My son forgot about his frustration and got nervous.
“Why are you crying mommy?”
I didn’t know why.
He asked, “are you sad?”
I didn’t know.
He couldn’t understand. I didn’t understand. As she sang “Have yourself a merry little Christmas. Let your heart be light. From now on our troubles will be out of sight.” My heart felt heavy and the tears would not stop. I haven’t cried in a long time, well before the start of the Pandemic. I couldn’t stop the dam from bursting. So much is out of my control.
“Here we are as in olden days, happy golden days of yore. Faithful friends who are dear to us gather near to us once more”.
The tears kept coming.
We haven’t stopped in months. My husband and I, like many, feel as if we are on a gerbil wheel – moving, moving, moving, but going nowhere. Trying to stay ahead of what, I know not. We have no outlet. We are under pressure.
All around us, we are told to take a moment and stop, take care of ourselves. Mental health is important. But so many people who are fortunate to have jobs and work are being asked to outperform, to keep going, keep churning. We have no time to take time for ourselves. It is a never ending cycle.
In that one moment, when I was trying to help my son avoid a meltdown over his recorder, the song’s lyrics brought me to a halt and months worth of pent up frustration, anger, anxiety, just unleashed itself and I was brought to tears.
Tears of sadness?
No, I realized.
Depression? Not really.
Just a release; an acknowledgment of all of the built up emotion over the last few months. I needed that. Have yourself a merry little Christmas and if you need, have a cathartic cry. Let go and recharge. If that isn’t enough, be sure to seek professional help. There is no shame. You are not alone.
