Sorting My Life Out

it's not what's on the outside

“Man, sometimes it takes you a long time to sound like yourself.”

— Miles Davis

During the pandemic, freaked out and deeply depressed, I threw my old life, routine and habits up into the air and decided to go rogue. I left the film industry after working in it for 25 years. I tried – and royally failed, it must be said – to go vegan. And I stopped subscribing to streamers.

This last one turned out to be a good decision. The gap it left in my life, along with quitting my work, gave me an opening for something I didn’t even realise was missing: getting back to my art.

Over the years, as people and newspapers chat about “must-see” shows, I shrug and relish the Joy Of Missing Out. I’ve watched a few but have become highly selective – most simply are not worth my precious time. If I have any spare hours, I like to (first) paint, and (second) read. Once I do these two, I rarely have time to watch anything, and this suits me very well.

Here in London though, still waiting-waiting, too anxious to paint (also, there is no light) and too antsy to read, I’ve turned to watching things instead. I love the BBC (among many reasons: a licence fee means no commercials ever). They make the amazing David Attenborough documentaries, and there’s an adaptation of Wolf Hall which is supposed to be grand.

But what am I watching? It’s a decluttering show called Sort Your Life Out. It’s a format I’ve seen before (including on another BBC show 20 years earlier called The Life Laundry). In each episode, we see a cluttered house and its overwhelmed inhabitants pleading for help. A team of organisers descend to remove every belonging from the house and lay each item out in a massive warehouse. This allows the family to go through their possessions one by one, deciding what to keep and what to release (this is the moment when something “clicks” and family members realise why they had been holding onto 680 pairs of socks or 1,226 stuffed toys – hint, it’s never about the objects). The team meanwhile create organised systems for when the streamlined belongings are put back in place. The family then returns to their home which is now tidy and systemised. Inevitably, they cry, and, inevitably, I sob along too.

I like decluttering shows for the same reason I love murder mysteries. First there is a mess – it’s chaotic and nobody can see anything clearly. Then, by uncovering things bit by bit, the truth comes to light. And at last, life is put in order. There is nothing so cathartic.