Quotes About Recovery

Dysfunction isn't a choice, it's a disease.

I have started taking the pills and I pray that everyone is right, that I have been sabotaged by my own brain chemicals. And that the little blue pill is going to put things right again.

Grief and trauma, I remind myself, are not linear experiences. There are good days and bad ones, hard dips into despair, moments of light and hope.

He's dead, Annie. But as long as you haven't dealt with the memories of the things he has done to you, he'll live on. We'll always have to face these times when you think he's returned for you. You'll never be free." It

But the people who linger on the edge, looking down, the people who pick up the phone and reach out for help? Most of the time, you can talk them down. They are looking for a way back to the light.

Kira, your leg will take a great deal out of me. I'll have to sleep, after, maybe for a whole day or even longer. And I don't have much time. She looked at him quizzically. Time for what? I'll explain. But for now, I think we should start. If I do it right away, I can sleep completely through the night and almost all of the morning. You can use that time to become accustomed to being whole... I [i]am[/i] whole, she said defiantly.

A veces es más fácil recuperar los recuerdos perdidos y los sueños olvidados no pensando en ellos.

She had seen the cindered fragments of her childhood life whirl into the sky as well.

A man who had, as an adult, fled the cult in which he had been raised, told me that his psychiatrist had recommended The Giver to him.

The blade left him; a warm gush of liquid spurted from the mouth of his wound after it. Cazaril had hoped to pass out, but he only swayed as pads were clapped to him and held hard fore and aft.

How was your bone-replacement surgery? asked Illyan. About what I expected, from having my legs done before. The ugliest part was opening my right arm and hand up to pick out all the bone fragments. Tedious. The left went a lot faster — the pieces were bigger.

He should be in bed, she decided. Hers, by preference.

On my way home from work that night, I get in an accident: I'm broadsided by the holidays.

How could I have managed to lose my husband, my job, my house, and my ass all in one year?

Speed is more than just how fast you can thrust your foot into the other guy's stomach. Whether you're punching, kicking, blocking, or moving your entire body, other factors are of equal importance, and they too must be trained.   ~Perception speed ~Reaction speed ~Movement speed ~Recovery speed

You couldn't pretend you had lost nothing... you had to begin there, not let your blood freeze over. If your heart turned away at this, it would turn away at something greater, then more and more until your heart stayed averted, immobile, your imagination redistributed away from the world and back only toward the bad maps of yourself, the sour pools of your own pulse, your own tiny, mean, and pointless wants.

She would try to live life one day at a time, like an alcoholic--drink, don't drink, drink. Perhaps she should take drugs.

I've been in love often enough to be completely exhausted by it, and not to know what it means any more. When you look back afterwards, you can always find another way of putting it. You say, I was obsessed, it was really lust, I was fooling myself, because after you've recovered from being in love, you always decide that that wasn't what it was.

The wounds had healed, but the scars would be mine forever.

The subject of Cahier is the cultural dislocation of a French-educated Black man from the islands. The poet finds himself between two worlds, belonging completely to neither, and the poem is the record of his struggle to recover his native identity.

Someday, the Cloud of Doom will be gone, and the world will be a much better place, even better than before the Cloud. Colors will be more colorful. Music will be more musical. Even Miss Mush's food will taste good. The bigger the storm, the brighter the rainbow.

My dog, Pugsy, was hit by a car

Then he will get to spend a day or two recovering in his tent, instead of having to dig a hole out on the lake. But

Now, with no hate group to run, Jerry spent his days playing Mah-jong on his computer