Quotes About Emotions

Una gelosia em sortia de dins i m'enterbolia, una gelosia de mi mateix, de tot el que havia mort en mi a cada petita estona de respirar; el que jo havia estat, jo l'estimava.

Potser ens dirà que se li acaba de morir el marit escanyat o que té la lepra. Ja estic fins al capdamunt de les tristeses dels altres... Miri, miri, com s'enrabia... - Qui? - El mar. - Deu estar tip de sentir-nos.

La seva vida potser sí que era una vida trista, però ¿no són tristes totes les vides es visquin com es visquin?

Give your enemy a face, If he is human, do not dehumanize him. Know him and know why he is your enemy. If your enemy is within you, understand what it is and why you are afraid. Put a face on your fear. When you understand it, and it is no longer vague and shapeless, you will find that your fear is no longer so formidable.

Oh, Irrylath,Irrylath, we squaundered our two years together.

For all we know, our ancestors may have had better reproductive success not because they were smart, but because they were emotionally sensitive, dynamically moody, and ridden with anxiety. In other words, it makes sense to hold up an evolutionary lens to mental disorders because they might not be disorders at all, but adaptations.

Perhaps periods of anxiety, sadness, panic, and sheer craziness are just part of the mental continuum that nature has provided to help us stay alive, make babies, and pass on genes.

I didn't make this plan. I just wake up sometimes and want to crawl out of my life.

Where is the good in goodbye?

Racism is definitely in the eye of the beholder. White people have at hand the privilege of choosing whether to see or not see the racism that takes place around them. If Dr. Fitzgerald could not 'fathom' my reality as a black person, how would he be able to assess or address the rage, the fear and the host of other complex emotions that go hand-in-hand with being black in a racist society? For whatever reasons, seeing a black therapist had never crossed my mind, until then.

I'll tell you this, though. It's not true, that saying about sticks and stones; it's words that break your bones.

There it was, out at last, and if it seems like nothing very much, I can only say that it took a long time to say it, to be able to say it, and none of the journey was easy.

That was the time for me to have said, "After all these years, is that what you think of me?" But I didn't. The moment passed. It passed as it had passed so many hundreds of times before, so many thousands of times before.

The weirdest stuff in the world is certainly to don't love and don't know how to love, that's why others can not be a reason to don't love

I can feel the sensation (it burns) of being called crazy when you feel wounded and desperate.

My life story is structured by reckless reenactments of panic and flight.

I wade through the rush of neglect and loss and sadness pouring through a hole in my hull.

Borderline personality disorder is a form of madness made of mood disorders and neurological malfunctions. People with borderline personality heat up fast and have trouble cooling back down. Emotions run high. Impulse and inhibition run together like hot and cold water from a tap. Once the borderline body reaches this place of hypervigilance and despair, every day presents new evidence of apocalypse and new opportunities for hysteria and resignation.

THE AFFECTIVE SHIFTS IN BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER, UNLIKE BIPOLAR II, OSCILLATE BETWEEN ANGER AND DYSPHORIA RATHER THAN FROM DEPRESSION TO ELATION AND TEND TO BE REACTIVE TO INTERPERSONAL CONTEXT RATHER THAN ENDOGENOUSLY DRIVEN.

I know I'm not okay. I am nose to nose with a fire and it's too hot. I want to fix the fire—as if the fire itself were uncomfortable, as if the discomfort I feel were not my own.

You are driving me crazy," I wail. "Why don't you care?" The last word—CARE—loses elasticity and flattens into another long wail. I am knees on the floor, shoulders on the floor, forehead on the floor. It is the fetal position. I get caught in a loop of feelings. I get louder and louder. I am groping about for the concept of NEGLECT. She is neglecting me. But I can't find the words. I can't catch my breath.

The neurotic expects to rid herself of the consequences of her unresolved conflicts without changing anything inside her at all.

I want to say my apartment is no paradise for bachelorettes and would be more accurately described by terms like 'pain clinic', 'wound-care center', or 'half way house' for the chronically triggered, the emotionally dysregulated, the bright but broken-hearted, and a few repeat offenders of adulterous behavior.

The normal guardrails of healthy emotional boundaries were never constructed inside me. I think it's normal that I feel what Emily feels. Better than normal: I believe tuning into other people's emotions is my secret superpower. I can bend steel with my bare hands. I can find a way in. I am CAPTAIN EMPATHY—able to intuit feelings like Superman leaps tall buildings.