If you don’t laugh, you cry; a love letter to Sharon Strzelecki.
Sharon,
At 11 years old, my back called it quits. Mum took me straight to the GP, a regional practice on the outskirts of town. The doctor was perplexed. An 11 year old with a back like an 80-year-old? Weird. The best they could do was a series of tests and put me on bed rest.
And, I guess that’s where my love affair with Kath & Kim began.
Let me paint you a picture of my room. We’re in 2006 FYI. This was Mum’s first house she bought after the divorce and boy, was it cool. The house was Mexican inspired, or as Mum called it “an architecturally designed home.” Whatever it was, it stuck out in the cul-de-sac. It’s pink and yellow walls screaming “What am I doing in regional Queensland?’
When you walked into the house, there were at least 4 different feature walls, an indoor garden, 3 levels divided by a few steps, and royal blue carpet throughout.
My room was an elevation of what was already a very colourful home. To match the bright blue carpet, I’d gone with pink, naturally.
Mum had a plan for how she’d keep me occupied over the 2 weeks of bed rest I was given. She had a small, old, analogue TV hanging around that she could rig up with a DVD player. And, the DVD player would fix the issue of the TV not having a remote (remember, we’re in 2006, non remote TVs were on the tailend of their prime).
On our way home from the GP, we stopped at my favourite DVD shop, Leading Edge. It was cheaper than Block Buster or Civic Video, and had an old-school charm. By old-school charm, I mean it had a smell to it and still stocked VHS. Almost as if it knew that it’d be redundant in less than 10 years. As if it was the last hurrah of the past before being a blip on the timeline.
Walking down the aisles of $1, 7-day hires, I stumbled upon Kath & Kim, a show I’d seen briefly on TV that I thought was hilarious. And, it was there I found a world that would shelter me through my first gruelling diagnostic journey.
For those first 2 weeks I watched the 3 seasons on repeat. Often laughing so hard my back would flare. I became completely obsessed. And when my best friend Ash would come over, I’d make her watch it. Luckily, she loved it as much as I did, and we both became die-hard fans (Ash had a Kath & Kim themed 12th birthday party if that’s any indication).
I think it comforted Mum knowing I was still enjoying myself. I wasn’t too unhappy or seemingly terrified of what was happening to my body.
And that, Sharon, is where you come in.
When the 2 weeks were up, my back had gotten a lot worse. I could no longer walk properly. I was given more time off school, which meant more time living in the world of Kath & Kim. Not a bad trade off for a weird looking kid in the noughties.
I’d matched the characters with those that were in my universe.
At 11 I saw myself in the way you never really fitted in. The way you apologised for your existence. The way you compromised your needs to feel welcome.
There were so many times I apologised…
I’m sorry for needing to lay down in the middle of class. I’m sorry my exercise ball I sit on embarasses you. I’m sorry for always feeling tired. I’m sorry I can’t play tag.
At 17 I saw more similarities, but it was centred more around our love lives. You were desperate to be wanted. Desperate to meet the unachievable beauty standards society placed on us.
I’m sorry I don’t look the way others do. I’m sorry I’m afraid of being abandoned. I’m sorry I’m a lot. I’m sorry I feel like I don’t deserve love.
But at 25 it all clicked, how I’ve always gravitated toward you. It came after introducing friends to the show, still my favourite after all these years. They would cringe whilst watching you, “Oh it’s so sad to see Sharon, it’s just too hard to watch.”
I’m sorry I’ve just unloaded what my life is on you. I’m sorry I’m not fun like I used to be. I’m sorry I can’t eat at that restaurant anymore, I have an allergy. I’m sorry I’m not going to make it to your birthday.
You’re hard to watch because your story is our collective truth to those of us who live with multiple chronic illnesses and disabilities. You’re honest. Your experience is real. Your jokes are at the expense of yourself, and that’s what my life has been.
I’m sorry I didn’t reply, I’m frazzled. I’m sorry my body is having a tantrum. I’m a hot mess, please forgive me. Sorry for being a pest…again.
You showed us what our lives look like through the lens of diagnostic ambiguity and living in a world that celebrates able-bodied people over our disabled experiences. You made your audience feel uncomfortable, but you made me feel like I had someone to look up to. Someone who was having the conversations that most of us never have the energy for. Someone advocating for us without us even knowing.
Many able-bodied people have told me, ‘if you don’t laugh you cry.’ But I have to disagree. because Sharon, I can laugh as hard as anyone at your comic timing, but I cry harder knowing how much truth there is to your experience, even through my small, analogue screen all those years ago.
So Sharon, you have changed my life. The person I always knew would shelter me from the outside. Nothing much has changed since 11, except, I no longer have to renew the DVD’s, I can watch you on Netflix, episode after episode, on repeat.
With so much love, Harley. x
