In 2018 and 2019, two brain injuries left me in a state I couldn\u2019t have imagined, forcing me to put down what I love most in the world: listening to and writing music. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
One concussion, followed too quickly by another, wreaked havoc on my mental and physical health, causing a cascade of negative effects that would lead to a prolonged recovery and PTSD diagnosis.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I became terrified of what my brain would endure in the world outside my door. Anything that would threaten my head in any way, however small, became something to avoid \u2014 low-hanging tree branches, other people, a missed step and subsequent \u201cjostling\u201d sensation. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n“All of it was rooted in anxiety. None of it was real. But I couldn\u2019t tell the difference.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
All of it was rooted in anxiety. None of it was real. But I couldn\u2019t tell the difference.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The PTSD showed up as nightmares and panic attacks. I would hardly leave my house. I thought I was protecting myself, but in fact I was shrinking my world down, making things worse. What I was experiencing is called hypervigilance<\/a>. PTSD and anxiety mimic the symptoms we\u2019re worried about, convincing us we\u2019ve relapsed when we\u2019re just flooded with cortisol. This vicious cycle makes us feel stuck, even when we\u2019re making progress.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As a writer and a singer-songwriter, my life was built around language. After the injuries, I couldn\u2019t access any of it \u2014 not reading, not writing, not singing. When your brain is injured, it can\u2019t process information the way it used to. Anything too complicated \u2014 complex sentences, layered melodies, even conversations \u2014 quickly overtaxes your system and worsens symptoms. Headaches. Nausea. Dizziness. Light sensitivity. I couldn\u2019t read. I couldn\u2019t think clearly. I couldn\u2019t listen to music. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n“I couldn\u2019t read. I couldn\u2019t think clearly. I couldn\u2019t listen to music.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
As Tove Danovich wrote<\/a> in The Atlantic<\/em>, describing her own concussion recovery:\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cFor months, a five-minute phone call made me exhausted, as though I\u2019d been swimming laps for an hour. I couldn\u2019t drive, and even as a passenger, looking out the window made me nauseous. Observing anything felt like work; my eyes skipped, as though the world was a slowed-down film reel. My real work\u2026was impossible. Fun, too, was out of the question. Trying to retrieve thoughts felt like rummaging through one empty file cabinet after another. My self, that person who exists in the wiring in my brain, had gone missing. I worried that she might be gone for good.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For weeks, I lay in darkness, unable to move, unsure of who I was without the things that had always defined me. My guitar and piano would sit untouched for years, and my way back to music would be anything but linear. I was hopeless, convinced I would never get those things back again. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
As I started to heal, I realized I wasn\u2019t alone in feeling overwhelmed and anxious. The numbers tell a stark story: Anxiety rates have surged 25% globally since the pandemic<\/a>, and things haven\u2019t leveled off. In the U.S., 43% of adults report feeling more anxious<\/a> than they did the previous year \u2014 up from 32% just two years ago. That\u2019s a sustained upward climb, not a temporary spike. And despite all this, only 24% have talked with a mental health professional<\/a>. That leaves a lot of people looking for other tools.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\nWhat changed when I stopped using words<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
Talk therapy and EMDR helped with the worst of the PTSD, alongside medication. Intensive physical and occupational therapy helped my brain recover. Eventually, I started listening to music again, but for years, I stayed away from writing my own music entirely. It wasn\u2019t really a choice \u2014 my brain simply couldn\u2019t handle it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Helping my brain mend meant protecting it from overstimulation: avoiding overly complicated music or writing, keeping phone calls and visits short, and minimizing time on screens. As my brain healed, I was drawn more and more to quieter music \u2014 classical, ambient, neoclassical \u2014 genres defined by their unobtrusiveness<\/em>.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n“I was drawn more and more to quieter music \u2014 classical, ambient, neoclassical \u2014 genres defined by their unobtrusiveness<\/em>.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
In 1975, Brian Eno famously invented what we now think of as ambient music while sitting in a hospital bed, recovering from a car accident. His friend had brought him a record player and a record of 18th-century harp music, but Eno couldn\u2019t reach the volume control. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The music was playing too quietly for him to hear it, but as he lay there, he listened to the rain outside, the din of the hospital, the crinkle of his sheets rustling, all while the distant harp music continued at a barely discernible volume. It was then he realized music could simply be a part<\/em> of our surroundings, not necessarily the focal point. This kind of listening became important in my recovery.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Eventually, something shifted and I found myself drawn once again to picking up an instrument. But when I did, I didn\u2019t want to write the way I used to \u2014 complex song structures, lyrical turns of phrase, any singing at all \u2014 because none of it was accessible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Instead, I played simple chord progressions. Repetitive patterns. Nothing complicated. And something unexpected happened: 20 minutes at the piano would leave me calmer than anything else I\u2019d tried. My hands would be steady. The constant tension in my chest would ease. My hypervigilant brain would go quiet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I started playing daily, and it became part of my healing toolkit alongside therapy and medication \u2014 each addressing different aspects of recovery. Only later did I learn that what I\u2019d stumbled into has significant scientific backing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\nWhy instrumental music works differently<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
Researchers have found that instrumental music activates specific neural pathways that help regulate stress responses. In fact, a 2021 meta-analysis of 32 randomized controlled trials<\/a> found that simply listening to music (what researchers call \u201creceptive music therapy\u201d) significantly reduces anxiety symptoms, with instrumental music proving more effective than vocal music.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The key difference with instrumental music? No lyrics means no language processing. Your brain doesn\u2019t have to work to decode meaning. It can simply respond to sound, rhythm, and pattern. For those of us with overstimulated nervous systems, that makes all the difference.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n“No lyrics means no language processing. Your brain doesn\u2019t have to work to decode meaning.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
A 2013 study published in PLOS ONE<\/em><\/a> showed that music listening significantly reduces cortisol, the stress hormone, and improves autonomic nervous system recovery \u2014 the body\u2019s automatic regulation of heart rate, breathing, and digestion \u2014 after stress exposure. That\u2019s because music engages multiple brain regions simultaneously, activating auditory, motor, memory, attention, and emotion processing systems, as reported in a 2025 review published in Frontiers in Human Neuroscience<\/em><\/a>.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What I didn\u2019t know during my recovery \u2014 but research is now confirming \u2014 is that music is uniquely suited to brain healing and neuroplasticity, the brain\u2019s ability to reorganize and heal itself. A 2021 study from the University of Helsinki<\/a> found that neurological music therapy improved behavioral regulation and executive function in people with traumatic brain injuries. It\u2019s why I could play simple melodies when reading a paragraph was impossible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\nWhy this matters right now<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
What started as my personal pathway out of trauma has become something larger. Through my newsletter Fog Chaser<\/a>, more than 8,000 subscribers tell me this music helps them through anxiety, work stress, panic attacks, and grief. They describe it as \u201ca dose of calm when everything feels too loud.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This resonates because instrumental music addresses the specific way our nervous systems are failing us right now. We\u2019re not just stressed \u2014 we\u2019re overstimulated. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n“Instrumental music addresses the specific way our nervous systems are failing us right now. We\u2019re not just stressed \u2014 we\u2019re overstimulated.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
Many of us are searching for accessible tools to help manage this overwhelm. Listening to instrumental music offers something uniquely suited to this moment: It\u2019s immediately available, requires no special equipment, and calms your nervous system without requiring cognitive effort.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The science suggests most of us can benefit from intentional instrumental listening \u2014 we just need to know what to listen for and how to use it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\nHow to use instrumental music for nervous system care<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
Based on both research and experience, the music that works best tends to share certain qualities: A moderate tempo (you\u2019ll feel this even if you can\u2019t name it); no lyrics competing for your brain\u2019s language centers; familiar harmonic structures your brain can predict without working too hard; and minimal sudden changes in volume or intensity. Consistency matters more than complexity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n“Consistency matters more than complexity.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
You don\u2019t need to overhaul your routine to benefit. Just 10\u201315 minutes is enough for your nervous system to respond. And remember what Brian Eno discovered in that hospital bed: The music doesn\u2019t need to be your focal point. Let it sit in the background at a low volume, creating an environment for your body to settle rather than something demanding your attention. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pay attention to what actually works for you. Some people respond to solo piano, others to strings or layered ambient textures. Your nervous system will tell you what helps \u2014 trust it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As for when to use it: I\u2019ve found certain moments especially receptive. Morning transitions, before you check email or start work. During focused tasks, when your attention networks need support. Between meetings, as a way to reset. Evening wind-down, when you\u2019re signaling to your body that it\u2019s time to shift gears. These small pockets of intentional listening add up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\nWhere to find music that actually works<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
The biggest challenge is knowing where to find music that has the right characteristics to help. Most streaming platforms don\u2019t let you search by tempo or harmonic structure, so you need different strategies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n“The biggest challenge is knowing where to find music that has the right characteristics to help.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
When searching Spotify, Apple Music, or YouTube, try terms like \u201cneoclassical piano,\u201d \u201cambient instrumental,\u201d \u201cslow classical,\u201d or \u201cfocus music no lyrics\u201d \u2014 these typically surface music with the simple, predictable structures that help rather than distract. Many traditional classical pieces also have the characteristics we\u2019re looking for. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
If you\u2019re new to instrumental music, I\u2019d start with some of these artists, many of whom create layered, textural soundscapes that feel like being wrapped in sound:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Piano-focused:<\/strong>
<\/strong>Hania Rani, Poppy Ackroyd, Eydis Evensen, Agnes Obel, Gia Margaret, Nils Frahm<\/p>\n\n\n\nAmbient\/Electronic: <\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n
Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith, Elori Saxl, Hollie Kenniff, Julianna Barwick, Vines (Cassie Wieland), marine eyes, \u00d3lafur Arnalds, Philip Glass <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Strings & Harp:<\/strong>
Lara Somogyi, Mary Lattimore, Anna Phoebe, Arvo P\u00e4rt<\/p>\n\n\n\nI’ve created a playlist specifically for The Good Trade<\/em> featuring pieces that helped me heal \u2014 all embodying the tempo, simplicity, and structure research shows works best for nervous system care. You can find my stress relief and recovery playlist, Healing Sounds, here<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\nWhat I\u2019ve learned about healing<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
My guitar and piano sat untouched for years. I thought they\u2019d stay that way forever. But here\u2019s what I didn\u2019t know then: Sometimes the things we think we\u2019ve lost are just waiting for us to come back differently.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n“Sometimes the things we think we\u2019ve lost are just waiting for us to come back differently.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
Years later, I play piano most days \u2014 not the way I used to, but in a way that matters more. Simple patterns. Quiet melodies. Nothing complicated. My hands are steady. The chest tightness is gone. The hypervigilance has loosened its grip.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Healing isn\u2019t linear, and it doesn\u2019t look the same for everyone. But our nervous systems need help in this overstimulated world, and instrumental music offers something immediately accessible, scientifically backed, and genuinely effective.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
If you\u2019re struggling right now \u2014 if your world feels too loud or too threatening or too much \u2014 instrumental music might give you what it offered me: a way back to yourself. \u2728<\/p>\n\n\n\n