Sweet singing of the choir: One man's journey from depression to confidence thanks to music

Andrew Moss on how the camaraderie of his musical group led him out of his dark places and let him find a vital work-life balance

Andrew Moss and his dog near his home in Fife

The work-life balance: A regularly used phrase. We all know that it’s important (because we are told it is) but do we really know? For me, it took more than 20 years of working to fully understand what it means and why it is so important. To reach that point I had to hit rock bottom more than once in order to discover what turned out to be a very simple answer.

I am not writing this for sympathy. I am fortunate enough that I am now in a place where I feel I don’t need it. I have found what works for me, and my sole reason for writing this is the hope that it might help someone else to do the same.

I have had issues with depression off-and-on since I was 18 years old. Well, possibly before that, but 18 was the age at which it was first “diagnosed”, after a (thankfully unsuccessful) attempted overdose which resulted in a hospital stay. Counselling and anti-depressants followed, and life went on. Over the next couple of decades there were further “episodes”, none of which quite hit the same low point but were clearly cries for help. More counselling. More anti-depressants. Some psychotherapy, and latterly even some hypnotherapy. All of these worked for a while, but I would still periodically wake up with the dreaded “black cloud” hanging over me and the overwhelming feeling of “heaviness”, and all I could do was wait for that particular cloud to blow over, safe in the knowledge that at some point it would reappear, unannounced and unwanted.

The Sing in the City choir in Dunfermline

Throughout this time I worked hard, somehow falling into the world of logistics which is enjoyable but not what you could describe as being without its pressures and challenges. I would start work early, finish work late, skip lunch breaks, and go home at night tired and without the enthusiasm to do terribly much other than slump in front of the television. If ever the opportunity came up to socialize I would either avoid it or spend the run up to it absolutely dreading the thought of it. To the great frustration of my wonderful wife, whom I married in 2005, this continued into and throughout married life.

In 2014 we celebrated the arrival of our daughter, and you’d think that at that point the penny would have dropped and I would have realized the importance of homelife and interests outside of work. I’m ashamed to say it did not, and the early starts, late finishes, sending work-related emails at all times of the day and night did not lessen and, if anything, got worse. Warnings from my wife and various family members were largely brushed off and ignored. The “black cloud” continued to appear, sometimes darker and heavier than others, and then the COVID pandemic hit. Given I was by now working in specialist logistics for the bio-medical industry, pressure at work went through the roof: the hours got longer, the sense of responsibility sky-rocketed but, blinkered as I was, I just kept going down the same precarious path.

In the summer of 2021 myself, my wife, our daughter and dog all went away for two weeks holiday, as we generally do at that time of year. There were still some COVID-related restrictions in place which meant that, for two whole weeks, I was forced to just “stop”, to relax, unwind and chill. And it was then that I began to appreciate just how much my working life had taken over our world. We had a lovely holiday, we relaxed and had fun together and then the day came when I had to return to work.

Returning to work felt like being on a treadmill running at full speed, getting off for two weeks and then trying to get back on while it is still running at full speed. Sounds impossible doesn’t it? As it turned out, it was impossible and I reached out to my GP and was immediately signed off (and put back on anti-depressants).

Being signed off work came as something of a shock not only to me but also to my wife, daughter and family who were all blissfully unaware of the breaking point I had been on a collision course with. I kept myself busy with working my way through a “to do” list around the house, going on long and thought-filled walks with our dog, walking our daughter to and from school and just generally living a life away from work. My employers were hugely supportive and understanding, as was my GP. My wife, as ever, was a tower of strength.

My wife suggested I try attending a place called Andy’s Man Club. I looked into it and, as it involved being sociable with people I didn’t know, I immediately rejected the idea. However for some reason which I still can’t put my finger on I changed my mind.

The first evening was, to say the least, daunting. I was met with a warm smile and directed to a room full of men from all walks of life whom I had never met. We were all given our opportunity to talk openly about the reasons we were attending for – without judgement. I found myself able to talk openly and calmly. I listened to what everyone else had to say, and found it strangely cathartic to realise that these individuals all had their own issues, their own struggles, and had found this wonderful, safe place to talk about them rather than just bottling them up as men have a tendency to do. I came out feeling relaxed, happy and quite proud of myself for having taken that first step. I continued to attend for the next few weeks, gradually gaining confidence, gradually feeling more relaxed in the company of the others, gradually realising that doing something for me, away from work and away from family life, was a good thing.

During my time away from work I enjoyed lying in bed in the mornings while our daughter, then seven, sang to herself, either unaware or uncaring that we were listening. It made me think back to my own childhood and how much I used to enjoy doing the same. Perhaps this, combined with new-found social confidence from Andy’s Man Club was the trigger for the decision that literally changed my life – I joined a choir. Having never in my life sung in a choir, and having only ever “performed” as part of an amateur dramatics group in my youth, this was, on the face of it, a strange decision.

On a whim one morning I Googled “Fun choir Dunfermline”. A few options appeared, and the one that stood out to me was Sing in the City. They offered a free trial week so I emailed them to arrange and quickly received a reply back inviting me along to a rehearsal that Thursday evening.

I was met with the warmest of smiles, introduced to the coach and ushered past the large number of women to the noticeably small group of men. There was a warm and friendly buzz in the room and, after a brief chat, we began our first song which, as I recall, was “Forever in Blue Jeans”. From the first couple of notes I knew I had found my “thing”. It was completely and utterly joyous, uplifting, wonderful and – most importantly – enormous fun. The rest of that first two hour session passed in something of a blur – an extremely happy, warm, fuzzy, glorious blur, the like of which I could not recall feeling for a very long time, if ever. Nothing outside of that rehearsal room was given a second thought for those two hours. Only music, singing and happiness.

I returned home a changed person. I felt happy and confident and my wife immediately noticed the difference.

The “buzz” I experienced that first week never seemed to diminish and, almost two years later, shows no signs of doing so. If anything it has got stronger.

Returning to work shortly after joining, I made a point of not checking emails at all hours, finishing on time, taking lunch breaks and, most importantly, making sure that nothing got in the way of attending Sing in the City. I can be having the worst of days at work and the thought I have choir to aim for on a Thursday spurs me on.

But that’s not all. Sing in the City is not just about singing. Of course, it’s a huge part of it, but it is like being part of a huge, slightly crazy, family. “The family you choose” is a phrase often used, and it is a family like no other – people of all ages, from all walks of life, whose paths would likely not have crossed had it not been for the mutual love of music. Everyone looks out for each other, and everyone is welcome.

The past two years as a member of Sing in the City has been truly life-changing. I have made countless new friends, I have grown in confidence and self-belief, and I have experienced things few people get the chance to. With Sing in the City I have performed at The Usher Hall, The Ross Bandstand and the Edinburgh Festival.

To say my mental wellbeing has improved is an understatement. I still have days where I am not quite as “chipper” but I genuinely cannot recall the last time the “black cloud” appeared and refused to shift. This, in turn, has improved the lives of my wife and daughter. Before joining Sing in the City I thought I had all I needed – a decent job, a nice house, a loving wife, a wonderful daughter. But as it turns out, although all of that of course remains hugely important, I have now found the missing piece – the work-life balance.

Two things have happened this year which highlight the difference it has made. Not only have I attended evenings out with friends from choir, I have taken the initiative to suggest them in the first place, something that would never have crossed my mind before, having always shied away from social situations.

Sing in the City is a business but the people who run it look out for you, they make you feel important. If someone had said to me two years ago, when I was completely burnt out, that doing something as simple as singing, that finding my “thing” was what was required I would never have believed them. But here we are, proof that there can be light the end of the very darkest of tunnels. I sincerely hope that by reading this someone is inspired to find their “thing”, whether that be singing or something else.

Andrew Moss is 45 years old and was brought up in Essex before moving to Scotland 20 years ago. He lives near to Dunfermline with wife Debbie, daughter Eilidh and their dog.