Quotes About Coping

Money was no cure for sorrow, Alec reflected, but it did allow one to grieve in relative comfort.

How else could he go on, except with merciful incomprehension held before him like a shield? How could anyone?

even the most well-adjusted person is holding on to his or her sanity by a greased rope.

It was life, you were stuck with it, and all you could do was live it.

Here is something I learned in 1922: there are always worse things waiting. You think you have seen the most terrible thing, the one that coalesces all your nightmares into a freakish horror that actually exists, and the only consolation is that there can be nothing worse. Even if there is, your mind will snap at the sight of it, and you will know no more. But there is worse, your mind does not snap, and somehow you carry on. You might understand that all the joy has gone...

We numb our minds and heart so one need not be broken and the other need not be bothered.

The literal meaning of life is whatever you're doing that prevents you from killing yourself.

Getting on with her life is important. But right now it may be more important to put the feelings out there, deal with them, and find a way to be okay with all that's happened.

wounds make you awake in the memories but tears makes tough and dry in real life.

all may not be well but, sometimes, things that seem so uncanny are what shield and protect us from the worst situations in life.

I don't agree that life favors the prepared mind because life made me lose my mind.

I tried to drown my sorrows, but the bastards learned how to swim, and now I am overwhelmed by this decent and good feeling.

There's no way around grief and loss: you can dodge all you want, but sooner or later you just have to go into it, through it, and, hopefully, come out the other side. The world you find there will never be the same as the world you left.

People cry, not because they are weak. It is because they've been strong for too long.

People cry not because they are weak, but because they have been strong for too long.

And then, just like that, my heart broke. My face crumpled, my composure went and I held him tightly and I stopped caring that he could feel the shudder of my sobbing body because grief swamped me. It overwhelmed me and tore at my heart and my stomach and my head and it pulled me under, and I couldn't bear it. I honestly thought I couldn't bear it.

So I stuck that in the back of my mental filing cabinet too, under the drawer labeled: Unthinkable.

Strength—real strength—is not doing what someone asks you, necessarily. Strength is turning up every day to a situation that is intolerable, unbearable even, just to support the people you love. Strength is being in that terrible room hour after hour even though every cell in your body is telling you it's too much for you to cope with.

But I knew very well how the persona you chose to present to the world could be very different from what was inside. I knew how grief could make you behave in ways you couldn't even begin to understand.

Liv runs. Every morning, and some evenings too. Running has taken the place of thinking, of eating, sometimes of sleeping. She runs until her shins burn and her lungs feel as if they will explode...She plugs in her iPod earphones, closes the door of the block, rams her keys into the pocket of her shorts, and sets off at a pace. She lets her mind flood with the deafening thumping beat, dance music so relentless that it leaves no room for thought.

But one of the things you learn in therapy is that there comes a point when you have to take care of yourself.

Algunas veces sentía como si todos estuviéramos vadeando en nuestro dolor, reticentes a admitir a los demás qué tanto nos estábamos ahogando.

MOVING ON means we have to protect ourseves

It's not the same crushing grief you felt at first, the kind that swamps you and makes you want to cry in the wrong places and get irrationally angry with all the idiots who are still alive when the person you love is dead. It's just something you learn to accommodate. Like adapting around a hole. I don't know. It's like you become . . . a doughnut instead of a bun.