Quotes About Recovery

When Byrd came out of there, he had written a lot things while he was in the hospital.

When I was 11, I spent eight months in the hospital with rheumatic fever and almost died.

After the Klitschko fight they left me for dead in the hospital. It was just my wife and me - we were alone and had no money.

No matter how low I feel, I know I won't ever be as low as I was when I went into hospital because I managed to speak out and ask for help.

Hospitals are about healing.

I spent a lot of time in hospitals for depression.

I've spent the last year and a half going through a very public separation, hiding in hotel lobbies.

Even six months later, they have not figured out how do we help the people from the area get housing.

I'm hoping there'll be, if not a boom, then a big pick-up in housing because if that happens, then it will employ a lot of people, and the domino effect will go through the community, and it will help everyone.

Being on one crutch to no crutches is a huge difference.

It took one human error to take my leg and one human error to take my mother's.

Humor is healing.

We need to always stay hungry. When we lose the ball, get it back quickly.

You think you know the answer, you're going to find peace? Like knowing is somehow going to fix you? You think after what happened there's any peace for you, sweetheart? How about this. Instead of asking yourself what happened, just accept that it happened.

I've suffered betrayal with all five senses. For over a year.

My body was heading into a flare. I paced a bit, tried to remember how to breathe right, how to calm my skin. But it blared at me. Sometimes my scars have a mind of their own.

Everyone has a moment where life goes off the rails.

My demons aren't remotely tackled, they're just mildly concussed.

Everyone has a moment where life goes off the rails. Mine was the day Marian died. The day I picked up that knife is a tight second.

Wouldn't it be so lovely to just forget about Nick, those awful five years, and move on?

Get all that bad stuff out, sweetheart. Don't stop till it's all out.

Sometimes my scars have a mind of their own.

Never go back to a man with fresh bruises. Don't give him the satisfaction

I hadn't necessarily wanted to be cured. But I was out of places to write, slicing myself between my toes—bad, cry—like a junkie looking for one last vein. Vanish did it for me. I'd saved the neck, such a nice prime spot, for one final good cutting. Then I turned myself in.