Quotes About Coping

I still don't love the darkness, though I've learned to smile in it a little bit, now and then.

When things don't go the way you want them to, sometimes instead of feeling disappointment or heartache, you just become numb.

After she was gone, I sheathed her sword at my belt, draped her cloak over my shoulders, carried her heart in my arms, and, somehow, went on.

Without thinking, I took one of the black velvet ribbons from my hair, wrapped it around my neck, pulled as hard as I could, and tried to kill myself. It didn't work.

As soon as I walked through the door I went straight into the closet. I rocked myself and chanted, "I'm sorry. Forgive me. I'll never do it again," over and over again in my head, like a mantra.

All I ever really want to know is how other people are making it through life—where do they put their body, hour by hour, and how do they cope inside of it.

If you have to end up in the hospital, try to focus all your pain in your heart rather than your head.

I give myself a good cry if I need it. But then I concentrate on the good things still in my life. I don't allow myself any more self-pity than that. A little each every morning, a few tears, and that's all.

Sometimes you have to do things when sad things happen.

Take any emotion—love for a woman, or grief for a loved one, or what I'm going through, fear and pain from a deadly illness. If you hold back on the emotions—if you don't allow yourself to go all the way through them—you can never get to being detached, you're too busy being afraid. You're afraid of the vulnerability that loving entails.

people in grief can imagine many things. It makes them feel better. It doesn't make it real.

I hope you can find the healing power in grieving.

I thought about how often this was needed in everyday life. How we feel lonely, sometimes to the point of tears, but we don't let those tears come because we are not supposed to cry.

There are some mornings when I cry and cry and mourn for myself. Some mornings, I'm so angry and bitter. But it doesn't last too long. Then I get up and say, 'I want to live Ã¢â'¬Â¦

He was doing what a man does when left with nothing. He was telling himself his own life story.

Same for loneliness: you let go, let the tears flow, feel it completely—but eventually be able to say, "All right, that was my moment with loneliness. I'm not afraid of feeling lonely, but now I'm going to put that loneliness aside and know that there are other emotions in the world, and I'm going to experience them as well.

If you hold back on the emotions — if you don't allow yourself to go all the way through them — you can never get to being detached, you're too busy being afraid. You're afraid of the pain, you're afraid of the grief. You're afraid of the vulnerability that loving entails.

All right, that was my moment with loneliness. I'm not afraid of feeling lonely, but now I'm going to put that loneliness aside and know that there are other emotions in the world, and I'm going to experience them as well.

I give myself a good cry if I need it. But then I concentrate on all the good things still in my life. On the people who are coming to see me. On the stories I'm going to hear. On you - if it's Tuesday. Because we're Tuesday people.

How useful it would be to put a daily limit on self-pity. Just a few tearful minutes, then

In all the time he was sick, Morrie never held out hope he would be cured. He was realistic to a fault. One time, I asked if someone were to wave a magic wand and make him all better, would he become, in time, the man he had been before? He shook his head. "No way I could go back. I am a different self now. I'm different in my attitudes.

He was doing what man does when left with nothing. He was telling himself his own life story.

With each new carving, he spoke out loud. He was doing what man does when left with nothing. He was telling himself his own life story.

It was all right to be sad. It was all right to lament. It was all right to feel anger. But [is] not all right to run away.