I speak of my friends over at Evilslutopia.com frequently, or JezeLilith, as they're better known in my personal life when referring to both simultaneously (kind of like Sirquita, which sounds like a really exotic tequila, which I won't be having anytime soon, rum being a better friend). A while back, things in my life weren't going so awfully swell, and predictably, I fell into a bit of a depression. Or, if you're going to have some idea of what amazing friends they are, you'll have to understand what they helped me overcome, which means I have to pull my head out of my ass and stop making light of what was going on. I don't deal well with being broke, out of a job, dependent on someone else for everything from tampons to my basic daily needs (like food). In fact, I don't deal at all. My method of handling stress is to turn it all inward and pretend my problems don't exist--I find a hole in my head to crawl into and disappear. I need a job? I read a book, clean the house, take the dog to the park, scour the internet for my next shopping bag...anything but deal with the problem by doing something about it. Sure, I did send out numerous resumes and contact numerous people, but after the sixth job rejection in two weeks, I shut everything down and quit looking for jobs. My relationship with Sir nearly disintegrated at a few points under the stress of our individual job stresses, plus my lack of effort in searching.
At the height of this depression, at my breaking point, Lilith and Jezebel stepped in and intervened in a manner that was crucial to restoring my confidence and giving me the boot I needed to start searching again. They suggested that I do some guest blog entries on their website, featuring women in art throughout history; the idea was dynamite in my arsecrack--they had no sooner suggested it than I was already researching my favorite women and looking for more inspiring women to feature in future blogs.
Yesterday, they put up the hardest blog I've written, about Frida Kahlo. Trying to write about her life was like (sorry to borrow an aged and overused expression) nailing Jell-O to the wall. Green Jell-O. How do you write about someone who left behind a body of artwork as her autobiography? How do you delve into her mind and try to get an accurate picture of what she was trying to say? The outcome, I think, is something to be proud of.
And Jezebel and Lilith? Thanks for the kick in the right direction. First you caused my marriage, then you caused me to be happy again. You troublemakers with strong personalities, you.