Quotes About Emotional

My older relatives grabbed me and latched onto me, and I felt like they wanted something from me. Their love felt like a demand. Then I let go and they pinched my cheeks and kissed them, and it only made me feel drained, like I had all the love and they only wanted to refill their tanks by taking some of mine.

felt himself fall off the center line for the first time. Deeply into self-pity. He didn't even bother to try to break his own fall. He just sank all the way down. Let the current take him away.

Also, I should note that in my opinion, we're all wounded humans. The rest is just a matter of degree.

For there are two kinds of forgiveness in the world: the one you practice because everything really is all right, and what went before is mended. The other kind of forgiveness you practice because someone needs desperately to be forgiven, or because you need just as badly to forgive them, for a heart can grab hold of old wounds and go sour as milk over them.

Everyone cried when the creature first spoke to them. No, not cried. They wept. They wept like the cavemen of Lascaux suddenly transported into the Sistine Chapel just in time for a live performance of Phantom of the Opera as sung by Tolkien's elves.

You're grown--crooked and backbent, but grown--and it's time to stop hanging your heart on your mother.

Everyone cried when the creature first spoke to them. No, not cried. They wept. They wept like the cavemen of Lascaux suddenly transported into the Sistine Chapel just in time for a live performance of Phantom of the Opera as sung by Tolkien's elves. Their senses simply were not built for this, weren't meant to come anywhere near this kind of velvet-barreled sensory shotgun, loaded for bear.

He looked so sorry and miserable as he pushed me out the door. It stung. It always stings when there's this whole story going on and you're really just a B-plot walk-on who only got a look at three pages of the script.

Don was called Don Thumb throughout school. Maybe that was why Don was such a touchy son of a bitch.

I feel a sense of betrayal by my body, most strongly when the attacks come, as they do, every week or so for the next few months. Each time, I am shocked that part of me wants to hurt me so badly. It feels personal. It is personal. And I feel let down by the very skin that contains me. My Judas. My disloyal body. Can

In the course of psychotherapy with children, innumerable transactions between child and therapist result in an emotionally corrective, relational healing experience. What happens when therapists respond in the expected way?

Cathy was the first widely syndicated humor strip created by a woman. The strip was pretty revolutionary at the time not only because it starred a female, but also because it was so emotionally honest about all the conflicting feelings many women had in 1976.

In order to keep her cheerful, us-fat-girls-LOVE-chocolate thing going, Ginger had to eat half the box, even though it made her feel ashamed. Comfort eating always did. That was why she could never lose weight: when her heart was heavy, she numbed it with chocolate or biscuits or ice cream. Hating herself for being fat meant she could keep all other feelings at bay. And for a while, food filled all the dark, sad holes inside her.

white tears" does not refer to all pain but to the particular emotional fragility a white person experiences when they find racial stress so intolerable they become hypersensitive and defensive, focusing the stress back to their own bruised ego.

I wish you'd read your poems," she said sternly. "We need poems to heal." "I'm not ready to heal," I said as gently as I could because I was afraid how she'd respond. She nodded. "I respect that," she said, and walked away.

The good young man went out and I felt the great relief that simple kindness can work. It is a salve of the spirit, surely.

This was a woman raised in a turbulent house, who had learned early to master herself.

For some crime committed by my ancestors in the dark and forgotten days, I came into the world already tarred and feathered. With shyness. It hurts terribly -- every bit as much as hot tar choking every pore -- and I wish I could be rid of it. But it hurts a lot less than having someone try and peel the shyness off. That's like being flayed alive.

I knew I'd just done one of the most amazing things that I will ever get a chance to do. Just to be part of a musical that's not your background and to pull it off and to think that we've done something that's really special.

Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate

Properly speaking, altruism is an absurdity. Women are self-sacrificing in direct proportion to their incapacity to offer anything but this sacrifice. They sacrifice what they never had: a self. The cry of the deserted woman, 'What have I done to deserve this?' reveals at once the false emotional economy that she has been following.

I believe acting is very physical, and when you have to fight or do those kinds of things, it takes a lot of respect not to allow yourself to go off and hurt yourself or someone else.

There are many kinds of betrayals. There are the small ones: the unkind word, the laughter behind someone's back, the petty lies. And there are the betrayals that break hearts, destroy worlds, and turn the strong, sweet light of day into bitter dust.

Having an unresolved Bad Boyfriend issue is like carrying around credit card debt . . . which can still show up and wreck your rating.