That Which Doesn't Kill , Serves to Make One Stronger

This phrase (see header) is floating around in my mind. I can happily declare that I am no where near physical death (or so I like to think). However, there is an inner welling, a foul roiling kind of thing, that started in my belly and is progressively working its way up to my throat.

I am really angry at the moment. I feel very powerless in the face of unrealistic expectations. Every inclination wants to lay down on the altar of martyrdom and take responsibility for everyone's grievances. In trying to re-direct responsibility to those who are, in fact, responsible, I am frustrated over appearing the nag/gestapo/bitch.

How can I free others, when I still don't know what freedom really looks like? I have only ever tasted it, had an impression of it, seen it flickering in my peripheral vision. I want to live in it, broken free of unhealthy obligation and indebtedness. I crave equality, graciousness, and beauty in all my relationships.

As if.

I thought maybe I was getting stronger, but now see that I am not. I am still wretched and broken. But perhaps, not yet beyond repair.

There is no freedom yet. I continue to be enslaved by guilt. I wrestle with anger and frustration and disappointment.

Or, it could just be PMS.