Season 2, Episode 9: Roundtable talk with Laura MacGregor, Shauna Kubossek and Wendy Cranston

Today's roundtable talk is about pain (physical, emotional, spiritual) in our lives. Content warning: this one is raw and hits very close to the chest for us. There were a lot of tears as we talked. Watch on YouTube with captions here: 

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Transcript

Welcome to the Mad and Crip Theology Podcast,
hosted by Miriam Spies and Amy Panton, which comes out of the Canadian Journal of Theology, Mental Health and Disability. We both live and work lands that have been homes and remain homes to the Mississaugas of the Credit, the Haudenosaunee, the Huron Wendat, the Neutral; and the Ojibway/Chippewa peoples and other peoples who have cared for the land.. We are grateful for the opportunity to live and work on this land and are mindful of the need to repair broken covenants. This podcast is an opportunity to model how faith communities can engage in theological and spiritual conversations around madness and cripness. If you need a full transcript you can find videos on our Youtube channel. We want to say before we begin that topics and conversations we are raising throughout our time together are often hard! They are hard for mad and crip people ourselves and hard for our families and loved ones. So, do what you need to do to take care of yourselves, your bodies, minds, and hearts. And now, here is our episode.

Welcome to this episode of the Mad and Crip Theology Podcast, we're happy to have a round table again this week. Just a few announcements as we get going, the the next issue of the journal will be out in early November, on Mad and Crip Sexuality, so, make sure you check that out, and over the coming months we'll have interviews with the authors on the podcast. So we look forward to that.

Thanks, Miriam. Yeah, and I have one more announcement, and, again, I'm so sorry, we're getting our kitchen done, so, there's going to be a banging, and sawing, and other things while I'm talking, so I do apologize, um, but, the-- we have decided on the issue topic for the spring issue of our journal, and so we hope to, um, get some submissions in from our listeners, and that the topic is going to be caregiving and care receiving, so, for people-- for mad and crip people, and their caregivers. So we hope that, um, that-- that, uh, topic sounds interesting to you, and we would love to hear from you about if you have any questions, or like, ideas that, um, you might want to run by us, because we are taking, of course, some academic articles, as well as creative work, and, for this issue that we're, um, putting out in the fall, we are introducing a new section called pedagogy and praxis, so if you have some stuff you're doing in your community-- faith Community, or, uh, in teaching, or wherever you find yourself, and you want to talk about that, um, uh, as it relates to caregiving and care receiving, we would love to hear from you.

All right, so, those are the announcements, and again, I'm very happy that we're actually at the point where we are organized enough to have an announcements, so, it's very good. Um, so, today's topic, we had talked about wanting to do, a, uh, QnA episode, and I think we were a bit ambitious, um, we didn't receive any questions, crying emoji, but, um, so what we did-- what we're going to do instead, is, we're going to do a round table talk-- talk today about pain. And so, this is a topic that is going to be probably very close to the chest for a lot of us that are here today, and, um, but I think it's a really important topic, and it's not something that we talk about very much. So, we've all brought to the table some-- some thoughts and questions that we want to sit with today, so we're so glad that you're here with us. So I wonder if there's anyone who would like to get us started?

On the topic of pain as it relates to disability and mental health.

Any takers?

Well, I wouldn't mind starting off, I-- I um, I don't know-- I don't know if my, like, thoughts-- my thoughts are probably going to be controversial for some, but that's not you. Um, I'm-- I'm, um comfortable with that part of myself that needs to ask such questions, and, um, again, I just want to say, as we're talking today that, you know, there are some things we might say today that we might look back in five years, and be like, what was I thinking? I have totally changed my mind, and I do not think that anymore. Uh, we had talked last episode about, um, us-- God bringing the theology to us that we need when we need it, so maybe we haven't encountered some things yet that will really help us to, like, sift through some of these questions that we have, um, and that's okay, so, I think, uh, we're all sort of-- I know-- everyone here, I know, is open to receiving those, um, theologies when God thinks we're ready for them. So, I just want to say, don't worry. If you say something today, and you're like, oh geez, in a few years, you're like, why did I-- what was I thinking? That's okay, we-- we've made space for that today. 

So, the first thing I wanted to just talk to the group about, and get your thoughts about, is, um, okay, so, a lot of people talk about, um, what's going to happen when they quote unquote "go to heaven" for people with disabilities. So, what will happen when we are, um, when we go to be with God, when we no longer are in this body, and so, I know a lot of us here believe that we will be with God with our disabilities, we don't think we're going to be, like, transformed into some sort of different beings when we-- when we-- when we die, basically, and so, um, and that's what I think, too, but I just wonder what everybody thinks about how pain enters into that equation. So, what do you all think? Do you think that, um, you're going to be yourself plus pain, or will you be yourself minus pain? Um, after you die.

I like-- I think-- okay, I'll just say, because everybody's looking puzzled, or like, thinking, I don't want to have pain. I mean, I have, like, killer migraines that, like, I have to go get nerve blocks and stuff for, and I just I don't want it anymore, so, um, I wonder what everybody else thinks.

Okay, I'll jump in. I may still regret this. 

Please, Laura!

Um, uh, this is something I've thought a lot about, um, I think most people here, and most people who have heard me speak on a podcast know that I was the mother of a very complex care child who lived with significant intellectual and physical disabilities, and a number of complex medical issues until his death early in the pandemic, and so, I've had to think a lot about what-- what, uh, what do I think about this? And, I remember listening, as a doctoral student, to one of my colleagues who lives with cerebral palsy, talk about their desires for the afterlife, and how they imagined their embodiment, and, and I remember thinking, well, I can't ask Matthew, my son, what he would want, he couldn't speak, and, uh, and while he communicated in ways that were meaningful to me, that's not a conversation, I think we could have had. Um, he-- his ability to understand that would have been different than mine. 

So, I imagine my son, in the great beyond, which is what I called it in his obituary, um, as my son. Which means he looks like the child I raised, with his disabilities. But I know that his disabilities caused a significant amount of suffering for him. And-- and that's something-- I know I spent this week, with my class, talking about the limits of the social model of disability, and how we lose the body, and how we can only look to society to mitigate so much, um, that there is an embodiment that we-- we don't attend to, and that's something I thought a lot about with my son, because he he did live with significant suffering, um, and-- and pain, and it was something we struggled to manage, because he didn't have the ability to describe or communicate the extent or experience of pain to me, or, to the medical community, so, that was something I dealt with in my doctoral work, um, and he also didn't have the intellectual ability, maybe, to do some of the meaning making that some of us do around pain and suffering. And so, I wonder if that compounded his suffering. Um, I hope that my son, wherever he might be, in whatever form he might be, in the great beyond, is not suffering. That his pain, and the experiences of his life that-- that were profoundly limiting, in terms of his quality of life, did not accompany him to whatever comes next. Um, but in terms of disability, the embodiment, the-- the-- the idea that he moved with a wheelchair, or that he communicated without words, things that society, maybe, imposes barriers on. That part, to me, is with Matthew still, but. But I don't know what Matthew wants, so maybe Matthew wanted something different. Um, but the suffering piece, the pain piece, I like to think that for his sake, and for his mother's sake, too, who lived with his suffering in vicarious ways, that it's not there. So, there you go, I guess that's how I might respond.

Thank you, Laura, that was-- you always have a way of, um, putting things into, uh, greater context, so I really appreciate-- I appreciate that.

Um, 

Wendy, do you have a thought brewing? I could see it.

 I do. I do have a thought brewing and it's very different from Laura's. So-- so, here we go. Um, but maybe that's what makes these conversations interesting sometimes.

I have always thought of this not-- not specifically the pain piece, perhaps, but the the whole idea of heaven, and afterlife, and the, um-- we've always, um, referred to it in my family as your eternal reward. Um, as kind of redundant work theologically. And I don't mean that in a-- in a-- in a throwaway way, but, that our visions, or my vision, and hope for what is to come is only that. And quite limited. Like, I've always sort of thought that what could possibly come is so far beyond our ability and scope to imagine, that spending too much time on it was really just redundant. That there were other things so much more pressing in the here and now, and in the realm of practical and lived theology to worry about. That that was really one of the things that I always, theologically, just sort of thought was really and truly in God's hands. 

And so, I've never really spent that much time worrying about it, because there's literally nothing to be done.

So, that's-- that's what I have to say about that. 

Thanks, Wendy, yeah, that's a really good point, um. I guess, for me, when I think about, like-- and why I wanted to talk about this today is because, I've been going through a lot of really bad migraines lately, and sometimes, I don't know, I guess-- I just, you know in like, the legal-- I-- I watched YouTubers that-- I don't know why I'm kind of obsessed with YouTubers who talk about law, and, so, I can learn about different cases, and what's going on with different trials and stuff, and there's a part, um-- I don't know if we have it here in Canada, but in the states they talk about, um, their prayer for relief, so what do they need-- what do they want to get to bring relief to their situation. Um, when they're asking the court for help, so, I don't know, I think about my my own prayers for relief, and mine is about not wanting to have pain anymore. Um, and I hope that God hears those, um, prayers and, like, is factoring that in, somehow. Um, to what is-- what is going to be next for me, and for everybody, I guess? Yeah.

Miriam, are you gonna say something? I could see your thoughts brewing now. 

Uh, I was having trouble hitting the unmute button, but, as someone who-- I don't know if I live with more pain than anyone else that live with some pains, some constant pain, and then some wider pain when I'm due for botox.

This past time, I was a month overdue for botox, so that was really terrible, and my body was in constant painful spasms for about two, three weeks, so, um,

I don't think there is meaning to pain, I think some pain is just pain, and, um, you won't believe in comfort, I use comfort things like heat pads and medications.

Calling my botox doctor for an emergency appointment.

Um, so-- but as I was in pain, I was working on my chapter, um, using Bonhoeffer, and Bonhoeffer's idea of price for me, first there for me, personally, was really comforting in that time when I had to-- when I was deep in working and in pain, knowing Christ was in midst of that pain was-- was helpful. I don't-- I don't-- um,

I don't believe so much in healing and stuff through medication and botox and-- and the interventions, but knowing Jesus is with me throughout my pain has always been,

uh, it's quite magnificent, actually that-- that,

um,

God has love and time for me. In that. I-- I don't know how to explain it, but that-- but, I don't think my pain, um, teaches me anything, or-- or it's caused by anything, it's just-- and so, I-- I don't know much in the great afterlife, in the kingdom, um, but the, for me, I would want to live without pain, but live as-- as who I am, as someone with CP, um, with that status, and just me.

I wondered your thoughts on it, Shawna, I know you've done your research is very much connected to to this.

Yeah, um, I'm-- what you said about-- I'm just-- touched something in me when you're speaking, there, Miriam, so thank you, um.

It was the moment when you said how magnificent it was that Jesus is with you in these moments, and I think,

Yeah, it is kind of magnificent to think, in some ways, that we don't have to, um, say why pain happens, or give it any sort of meaning, but just to say that we are with the spirit, or with God, with our creator, um, in whatever way we imagine them to be, in these moments of like darkness, and pain, and I think.

Um, this, like, witness to pain, that's kind of how I think of it, I've been reading a little bit about, uh, Holy Saturday recently, and how in the depths of, um, whatever is happening for different people, that God suffuses that place, so, when Jesus died in those days before he was resurrected that God's spirit suffuses that place too. And it's not, um, this, like, kind of, like-- we're just waiting for the resurrection, whatever that means, but this actual sitting in that moment, um, not in-- not in a way where we'd, like, um, I'm trying to-- maybe y'all can help me with this today a little bit, because I-- it's hard to understand the difference in my mind of, like, okay, well, you know, we can't stay in the darkest moments of our lives forever, but we could if we wanted to, you know? That there's that choice and there's that, um,

um, I don't know that I'm making sense, but I think that there's something to be said for, like, if-- if we want to, and for however long we want to stay in these moments of pain, not that we can choose sometimes to get out of them, but, for however long we need that space, we can take it, and we know that we're there with our creator. I don't know if that's making sense, but, I also have been trying to articulate a little bit the difference in my mind between suffering and pain recently, and how that changes that conversation, um, because I think so often we rush to the resurrection, we rush to thinking about eschatological things, like, you were saying, Wendy, like we don't always need to go there, um, and so often, it dismisses the pain of the moment, for this, like, hope of some sort of, like, clean white linens in the sort of resurrection future, um, so, that was a lot of thoughts filled out there right now, I think, um, but I'll maybe just leave it there and see what you all think, um, because I have many more questions today than than fully formed thoughts.

Thanks a lot for that, Shawna, the-- the church that I grew up in, over Easter, over Holy Saturday, had a vigil. So, from the closing of the service on Good Friday, straight through until the service on Easter Monday, there was a vigil in the church, and church members would sign up for however long they were willing to stay in the church, like, overnight, all night-- overnight, for the whole weekend, there was someone in the church with that idea, that that time that the disciples were grieving, and lost, needed to be attended to. And that-- I know that when I was growing up, we would go as a family for, you know, an hour, and sit in the sanctuary, and tend to the candles, and-- and I never really understood it as a kid, but then, as I got older and grew up, I started to realize, like-- or comprehend, is a better word, why we were there. And it's exactly that. That you can't just show up. Well, I mean, I guess you can, technically, but just showing up on Easter Sunday, and not attending to all of the hours prior,

there's something lost.

If that relates to what you were trying to get at at all.

I wonder if we're being limited by how we define pain. As I'm listening to you reflect, the-- you, plural, the group, um, I know I was reflecting on pain and suffering with regard to my son's earthly body, so, this earthly, human, experience of pain and suffering, and then we could go down the whole path of valorization of, which we all know I have strong feelings about, um, as problematic, but, I think what Shauna said really resonated for me, and I wonder if-- if as we're thinking eschatologically, um, and I also agree with Wendy, that it doesn't matter, like, we're getting hung up on the body, in some ways, and an embodied experience, when we don't really know what's going on with the body,

in the great beyond. But then, you know, our-- is part of-- like, if I think about my experience, caring for Matthew, so, now moving into, sort of, my pain and suffering, if we're gonna use those words. For me, a lot of my grief, and suffering, and pain, was feeling that I was embarking on this journey of caring for a son who was suffering, and not being-- and being very powerless, in the face of that suffering and then feeling the absence of God, feeling the absence of any kind of solidarity with a faith community, or with the Creator, feeling very alone, and spiritually bereft, and, is that-- is that then addressed in whatever comes next, so that, is the-- you know, there's this embodied pain, which we don't really know what's going to go on with, and then there's this spiritual pain of feeling abandoned by a Community of Faith, or by your faith, or by your Creator, and, is that painful void somehow addressed in whatever is next, because now you live in the presence-- the Eternal presence of the Divine. That-- that is is the eternal reward, to use Wendy's language, um, and, so is pain mitigated that way because the spiritual void, the-- the-- this divine void is now somehow filled. I don't know, but-- but, this-- this huge sense of abandonment and loss may be addressed. Just throwing it out there for, like, you know, for y'all to play with.

Um,

Wendy is laughing on mute.

Sorry Shauna, go ahead. 

No, I was just gonna say that, kind of, um, Laura, do you mean-- so like, there's some sort of like disconnected and disconnection that will be re-attached or reconnected again?

Yeah, I'm not sure-- I'm not entirely sure what I'm saying, I make it clear when I teach classes that I don't actually have lots of answers,  I'm just really good at asking questions, maybe, but, um, yeah, like I think-- you know, there's the embodied pain that we're talking about, that-- the migraines, or that my son's pain, or Miriam's pain, there's this embodied pain, and we don't really know what's going on with the body, um, but for me, my source of suffering and pain has-- had a lot to do with it an incredible sense of abandonment. Of-- of a huge mass of spiritual existential void. Um, and part of it is vicarious suffering, and there's all those other pieces that we could talk about, but yeah, this incredible-- and the earthly life is disconnect from-- from Creation, The Creator, and is that then somehow satisfied? Um, and therefore, in some ways, the question of pain becomes irrelevant, in ways-- there's the irrelevance that Wendy speaks to, which I agree with, but also irrelevant, because, we now live in in the presence of Creation, The Creator, and-- and sort of, were bathed in it. So this existential spiritual pain is somehow mitigated.

I don't know.

Yeah, thanks for raising that, Laura. I was thinking, um, of some, like, really shitty theology that I've heard people say around pain, like, um, I just like-- I don't want to hear people say certain things, and it makes me so angry, like, when people tell me like, "oh, you know, God's making you into a better person through this", you know, um are just like, um, "you'll be you'll become closer to God because of this pain", and it's like, sometimes I don't really know what to do with those kind of statements, and maybe they kind of stick to me more than I'd like, um, has anybody read any good books on pain from a theological perspective that you can think of?

I-- I was just thinking about this, when you guys were talking I was thinking about this one book that, um, I'm using for my dissertation-- oh my God, I'm so glad you all can't see what my room looks like out of the edges of where you can see from the camera, because it's bad. I was thinking this morning, like the longer I write my dissertation the messier this area becomes. Um, but um, Kathleen Greider's book, uh, it's called "Much Madness is Divinous Sense," it's about, um, she looks at-- okay, so it's called "Much Madness is Divinous Sense: Wisdom and Memoirs of Soul Suffering" so, um, I'm using this book for my dissertation, because my dissertation is looking at Memoirs of people who self-injure. So, um, there's this one part in her chapter called care that helps, where she talks about how people who want to provide care to people who are in great pain, need to have an increased pain threshold themselves, to be able to sit with people who are in a lot of pain, and also, like, witness-- um, witness that kind of pain, um, maybe I'll just, like, read this, is it okay? Um, this like-- I honestly, I cried when I read this the first time, probably gonna make me cry now, too. Okay, uh, so this is on page 239 of the book. Okay, so, um, this is-- like I said, it's from the chapter care that helps, so she's talking about what kind of care will help people who are in soul suffering. 

"Sitting down together with mutual respect and shared vulnerability to mystery and misery is where we begin. After that, though, helpful care will require an even higher pain threshold. It's so much easier to talk about pain tolerance than to have it when wounds are raw, pain excruciating, and care suspect. Another story told by Martha Manning, makes more visceral the challenge of care in the face of excruciating pain. Six months after Manning's hospitalization for depression, she is trying to resume her Counseling Practice. A woman is referred to Martha by an oncologist, who says the woman is depressed." And this is an excerpt from the book, "she fumes at me for giving such lousy directions, and makes it clear that seeing me is not her idea, and that she has no intention of returning. Sometimes in situations like these, I have the good sense to keep my mouth shut long enough for people to tell me the real stories. In this silence, her anger gives way quickly to tears. She tells me about her mastectomy and the recurrence of her breast cancer. The cancer is eating her up from the inside out, resulting in ulcerations all over her chest. She wrestles with words that could possibly convey her suffering. As she tries to talk to me, deep brunching sobs drown out the words. Her cries come from a place in-- in us, where hell resides.

Sometimes, I admit to her, hell has no words. Her sobbing quiets, her breathing deepens, she looks straight at me and begins to unbutton her blouse. I want to stop her and say, 'oh no, I'm not that kind of doctor,' but I realize she knows that already. She unbuttons her blouse and holds it open. She is wearing nothing underneath. What she shows me has no words. Her skin is ravaged with scars and a huge sores. Never have I seen anything so horrible, so painful. She holds her blouse open and looks me in the eye with a mixture of pain and defiance. She defies me, to what? Flinch? Turn away? Feel pity? Say something totally inept? I don't know. All I know is that I need to stare her right back in the eye and stop fighting so hard to keep my own eyes from filling up. She tells me that she can't even show her husband and daughter the ravages of her cancer. And acknowledging the torment of her isolation, I understand what I have to do with her for the rest of this hour. I have to sit with her, with her blouse open, and her awful wounds, both visceral and psychic. I have to sit with her inner pain. The quiet between us is punctuated by brief exchanges about her life, but it is clear she doesn't really want my words. She wants my presence. When the hour is up, she buttons her blouse, she straightens herself up, thanks me, and shakes my hand. She tells me that she doesn't think she'll be back, and adds, 'I wish you were a priest' I tell her that, sometimes, I wish that too. She says goodbye, and leaves the way she came, bitching about my directions."

And so, um, I-- I just really loved reading this, uh, part of the book because it-- it really, um, as she goes on in the chapter, um, Greider talks about how, like, we need to be able to like, sit with people, um, and have, like, an increased pain tolerance. We can't have shitty stuff that we say to people, like, "Oh, God is teaching you something through this," or, "Oh, God heals all wounds," or whatever crap platitudes we can spit out at people. 

Um, yeah. So I, um, I highly recommend this book for anyone who's looking for something good to read about pain. 

Can you share the-- the title and author again, please and thank you? 

Yeah, sure, it's-- okay, it's Kathleen Greider, Kathleen J Greider, so that's g-r-e-i-d-e-r.

And, it's called Much Madness is Divinous Sense: Wisdom in Memoirs of Soul Suffering.

Um, and it's such a good book, I read it for my exams, actually, for my PhD exams, but, um, she pulls together a lot of, like, kind of seminal, um, mental illness memoirs. And also, there's some other ones that sort of, touch on other things, like, I just write about cancer, and stuff. But, um, it helps-- I really like this book, because she talks about, um, how religion can heal, how spirituality can heal, and also, um, care that helps, but she also, like, doesn't shy away from talking about the care that harms, um, when-- when, um-- and what kind of care people need, who are suffering.

I wonder if anybody else has, um, did you-- did you bring a question with you, or a-- a wondering today when you were-- when you heard about the topic we were going to be discussing?

Sorry, that's my cat, she's meowing, she's very hungry. Even though I did just feed her.

Um, maybe while we're thinking of our questions, um, I just wanted to thank you, Amy, for reading that out, um, I-- as I mentioned last time, for most of my adult life I've worked, um, at the intersection of poverty, homelessness, addiction, and often, um, I mean, we had very, kind of, like, practical, quote-unquote, things that we would do, like, food, and referrals to different treatment facilities, etc, etc, but honestly, um, in the last couple of years we've moved most of our work to like-- we've realized how lonely people are, and how, um, they don't have someone to witness their pain, and so, most of our work, in the last couple of years, has really just been like, hours going out for coffee. Um, or going for a walk, um, one of my colleagues, um, has a trained therapy dog, and he's-- he was an official volunteer at the organization, and would come in, and they would just-- like people would come in and just sit with the dog on the couch, or go for a walk, and, I think-- like, having someone to witness your pain when you're feeling it, is so rare. Someone to just stare at your open blouse, you know? And, um, not look away, but maybe wince with you, in those moments where you're wincing at it too, and, um, you know, I've said to people before, like, as they are speaking, or we're just sitting, and I'm crying too, and just to say, like, I don't know what to say to this, and we're here together, you know? Um, to just actually, like, be together, is this very very-- and like, really looking at each other, is just so sacred, or holy moment, um, and I think it's something that, yeah, we just need more of it. 

There's-- for all-- yeah, for all of us, and in those moments, too, I felt like, these are moments of connection that heal-- heal us, in some ways, um, in the sense of like, we don't feel as alone in our pain, um, for me too. Um, and it's those moments, as well, healed me from the heartbreak of other moments like that, it's interesting how, um, these human connections, kind of, not that surprisingly, are mutual, and work both ways, you know, like, it's just-- yeah. I'll stop there, but that's what I was thinking about while you read, Amy, thank you.

Yeah, thanks so much Shauna, I think it takes like a-- definitely it takes courage and, um, intention? To, sort of, bear witness to that kind of pain that we were just discussing, yeah.

I know that was the question that I was bringing with me today, was, you know, how do we journey with people in pain, and why do we struggle so openly with it? Um, at times. I became, during my, uh, doctoral work, became really interested in the work of Arthur Frank who writes about illness narratives, and the chaos narrative, because that was the narrative that most resonated with me, um, and-- and, the-- Frank talks about, um, our need to control chaos, um, or to be able to influence it, and, for people who are living in chaos, how isolating it can be when people want to explain, in a way, your chaos, or-- or make sense theologically, or-- through theodices, um, with-- with chaos, and how bad we are at sometimes just existing within the chaos, and, as Shauna said, honouring the chaos, and honouring the person living in chaos, and knowing that at times-- at times we can influence chaos, and in those cases we are called to do so, and0-- and we as a community, as a community of faith, need to think about how we should be doing that. But there are times that we can't. And-- and then the-- the power of being in chaos with someone, of being in the moment of pain, and just acknowledging it, and-- and ensuring that they're not alone. Um, and also bearing witness, and hearing the story, and hearing the story with the depth of pain, and that was the question-- and again, I don't really feel I have a good answer, other than, it's-- it's something that our particular western society really struggles with, and we feel we need to control chaos. I think about it a lot with regard to the medical model, um, you know, and we need to-- to manage it, and control it, or erase it, um, and therefore, if we can't, we can't talk about it. We can't be in the presence of it, um, and how do we challenge that, and do a better job of creating communities that journey with people in pain? Um, again, my question, not sure I have great answers.

As you all were talking I was thinking about, you know, times in my life where I have found, um, God was more absent to me. And that was during my deep depression and suicidal ideations. And I remember being in hospital, and they had changed my meds, because they wanted to figure out, um, what medication would work on me, and this particular med made me so angry, like the angriest I've ever been in my life, and I remember telling my mum, not to, um-- I didn't want her near the house, or near me. But she came. She came into that chaos, um, every day, and finally I think they changed my meds, so I wasn't that angry anymore,

um, but that being with image of that chaos, is so enough, even--

even when someone says they don't want you here, no, no that can get into, um,

I can get into questions.

Now privacy I guess, but-- but, um, but sure enough, even though it was annoying at the time, it was important to me, even though she couldn't do anything to make me less-- less angry.

I don't know where I'm going with that, but, that's just the story that came up for me for living in chaos.

Thanks so much for sharing that, Miriam. I was put on a medication for my migraines that, um-- and one of the side effects was becoming angry, like it literally says on it, this will make you angry, and I was like, I won't be angry! and it-- so I-- and it did, it made me angry, so I went off after, like a week? That's probably all I could take because, um, yeah. So I-- I know what you mean, it's crazy how this how bad the side effects can be sometimes.

Well, I'm aware of time, so we're sort of drawing towards the end of the hour, I'm wondering if anybody has any sort of last, um, thoughts, or, um, even resource sharing you might want to share with our listeners about pain?

Shauna, what is Pam McGill's book? and the foot in the cross? Yeah? The one on holy saturday, that's a good one. 

Yeah, also, I was thinking of, um, an edited series of essays called Feminist Trauma Theologies, it's edited by Katie Cross and Karen O'Donnell, and they just came out with the second, um, edited set on more intersectional voices, um, that just came out called Bearing Witness, I think, which is-- I haven't read it yet, I'm really looking forward, um, and then the other, um, thinker and writer that-- that has kind of come to mind through this conversation is Catherine Keller, who is a process theologian, um, and her field to holmic theology, theology of chaos, um, I found really helpful for some of these questions, um, particularly her book on the mystery and fear of the deep, or face of the deep, I can't remember which one it is, but, um, just thinking of her words.

Well I-- Miriam and I really appreciate all the stories that have been shared today, um, they're very precious, and, we may not have all the answers on this podcast-- well, we don't have answers on this podcast, but at least we can sit and talk about our questions, and, um, yeah.

So, thank you so much for being here everyone, and thanks to our listeners, and we'll-- we'll catch you on the next one.

Bye everyone.