A poem about how pain can feel like it takes over your identity. Written in a flare. Any Spoonies who can relate, please make yourself known in the comments!
For the disciples, the hours must have seemed like eons. The day after Jesus' death was the day everything looked like it had gone horribly, horribly wrong. Holy Saturday is the day when the disciples are waiting, and God doesn't show.
Want to know more about chronic pelvic pain, self-help, and vaginas more generally? Of course you do. Here's my entirely-not-definitive list of useful articles, books and even the odd video.