The one change that worked: in a hectic world, taking up jigsaw puzzles calmed my mind

Until last year, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done a jigsaw puzzle. It must have been at least 20 years ago. As far as I was concerned, puzzles were for children. There were always other more exciting, interesting and productive things to do – or so I thought.

While rummaging around at home on a rainy autumn afternoon, however, I stumbled upon a jigsaw puzzle that had been lying untouched since my husband and I were given it a few years ago. I’m not sure what came over me – perhaps it was because my husband was watching a film that didn’t particularly interest me – but I decided to give it a go. I was immediately hooked.

The 1,000-piece puzzle – a charming illustration of Agatha Christie at her writing desk, full of subtle references to her books – took me a couple of weeks to complete. I would spend from five minutes to two hours on it at a time, depending on how busy I was. I enjoyed it so much that I found myself having to resist the urge to do the puzzle even when I knew I had other jobs to do. It was oddly addictive.

Now I’m obsessed. There’s something so satisfying about finding the right piece for a space, joining up sections, getting closer to finishing a picture. Every time I successfully place a piece, I get a little rush and feel a sense of achievement. It’s a dopamine hit, but one I’ve worked for instead of just scrolling from Instagram reel to Instagram reel.

A completed 1000-piece Agatha Christie puzzle.

I’m sure there’s a recommended technique for efficient puzzling, but I have no idea what that is – and I don’t bother with doing the perimeter first. Anyway, it’s not about completing the jigsaw as quickly as possible. As cringe as it sounds, it’s about the process.

I found that first puzzle during a particularly anxious period of my life. I was newly freelance, adjusting to big life changes like getting married, quitting my job and moving abroad within the space of three weeks. I felt as if things were speeding out of control. So it was pleasing and unexpected to find that doing the puzzle calmed my anxiety like nothing had before.

Having always been an overthinker who doesn’t do particularly well with the unknown, I’ve tried tons of different techniques to calm my body and mind over the years. I like walking, but it’s prime ruminating time. When I’m reading a book, my mind wanders and I have to read the same page again. Watching television or a film, I get the urge to pick up my phone and double-screen. Meditation or yoga? A nightmare as I’m incapable of sitting still.

Puzzling, meanwhile, requires complete focus on the task in hand. The slightly physical aspect of it, leaning over the pieces and picking different ones up, means I can’t be on my phone at the same time. I love that doing a puzzle doesn’t involve a screen in any capacity. So many aspects of my life revolve around my computer, my phone or the television – even following a workout app in the gym or listening to a podcast on a walk – but doing a puzzle is completely analogue. It’s an unintentionally mindful activity that calms my racing mind and helps me de-stress.

I’ve bought a couple more puzzles since that first one, but I’ll redo each again and again. I’m considering taking things up a notch and investing in a roll-up puzzle mat, so I can put a jigsaw away without losing my progress (a puzzle does unhelpfully tend to take up most of the dining table or a large portion of the floor for weeks at a time).

It was only when a group of thirtysomething friends came to visit a few weeks ago, while I had a jigsaw on the go, that we learned that, in fact, we are all big fans of a puzzle – it turns out it’s not just children after all. It’s a comfort to know that I can always turn to a puzzle when I feel anxious. Perhaps it was the missing piece of my life all along.

The Guardian wp:paragraph