Quotes About Recovery

They tied me back together, but they didn't use double knots. My insides are draining out of the fault lines in my skin, I can feel it, but every time I check the bandages, they're dry.

the only thing that helped me breathe was opening a book

I want to tell him that it's just a stupid car, but bits of me are scattered all over town; the graveyard, school, Cassie's room, the motel, and standing in from of the sink in my mother's kitchen. It takes too much energy to gather all the bits together, so I just sit there and watch him implode.

I just want to sleep. The whole point of not talking about it, of silencing the memory, is to make it go away. It won't. I'll need brain surgery to cut it out of my head.

The bruises are vivid, but they will fade.

IT happened. There is no avoiding it, no forgetting. No running away, or flying, or burying, or hiding. Andy Evans raped me in August when I was drunk and too young to know what was happening. It wasn't my fault. He hurt me. It wasn't my fault. And I'm not going to let it kill me. I can grow.

This is the story of a girl who lost her voice and wrote herself a new one.

I have survived. I am here. Confused, screwed up, but here.

Pain won't be contained by bars or marks your scars deserve attention, too.

But I had never seen a first aid kit for the spirit...

I wake up breathing dirt. I cough and spit out the pebbles in my mouth, but when I inhale again, wet clots of clay fill my lungs.

My goal is to go home and take a nap.

The warped perception of time is a hallmark of trauma.

My fingers stroking the bark, seeking a Braille code, a clue, a message on how to come back to life after my long undersnow dormancy. I have survived. I am here. Confused, screwed up, but here. So how can I find my way? Is there a chainsaw of the soul, an ax I can take to my memories or fears?

Não existe cura mágica, nem como fazer tudo desaparecer para sempre. Existem apenas pequenos passos adiante; um dia mais fácil, uma risada inesperada, um espelho que não importa mais.

IT happened. There is no avoiding it, no forgetting. No running away, or flying, or burying, or hiding. Andy Evans raped me in August when I was drunk and too young to know what was happening. It wasn't my fault. He hurt me. It wasn't my fault. And I'm not going to let it kill me. I can grow.

I'm sorry you didn't get the help you needed. You deserved a soft afghan wrapped around you, People to hold your hands while you learned to walk again, So stand with us now.

They only want to hear that you're healing, you're in recovery, taking it one day at a time. If you're locked into sick, you should stop wasting their time and just get dead

The box opens and the razors slide out, whisper sweet. Used to be that my whole body was my canvas-hot cuts licking my ribs, ladder rungs climbing my arms, thick milkweed stalks shooting up my thighs.

Have you considered what you might do to help? You have recovered, so you cannot get the fever again. You are young and strong. We have a real need for you." "How can I help anyone? I'm just a girl." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to pinch myself. The first time anyone treats me like a woman and I respond like an infant.

I sniff again and wipe my eyes on my arm. The bruises are vivid, but they will fade.

Melinda's trick is looking hard in the mirror, Absolving herself and cracking open doors to the next place. But the girl at that school, so haunted, smashed all the reflections boarded up the windows and bolted the doors, forever stuck at 15 years old judged to serve a life sentence for what they did.

What am I afraid of? Why can't I even want to get better? When am I me and how do I know that and who would I be if I did what they want? How did I get like this?

He's finally admitting how desperate things are, but he doesn't think treatment will work.' 'Why not?' 'You don't want to get better. He says nothing will work until you want to be healthy and have a real life.