Quotes About Recovery

I was jogging in the grass while on a warm-up and there was a sprinkler hole. I rolled my ankle, and it was really bad.

I had fractures in my spine that had to be repaired that came as a big surprise; nobody warned me that I might get some really severe, threatening fractures. It was painful, and I lost two inches of height, bang!

Market capitalism survived and prospered after the boom-bust industrial revolution of the 19th century, and the Great Depression and world wars of the 20th century. It will recover from the financial panic of 2008-09 and Obamanomics.

The battles after the wars are over can be the toughest; there's no longer the public interest that accompanies, for good and for ill, the start of combat.

Wars break things; they break stories.

My father was one of the fortunate wartime servicemen: he made a full recovery from his injuries, was promoted to captain, survived the war, had a satisfying career as a colonial officer and, eventually, died in February 2002, a month before his 85th birthday.

If you had a cancer on your skin and had it burned it off, you'd wash it and clean it every day.

Even if people threw tomatoes at me and booed me off stage, at least you can wash out tomatoes, unlike nine hours of abuse from the general public which can affect your mental health.

The tears I have cried over Germany have dried. I have washed my face.

When Superstorm Sandy churned up fourteen-foot walls of water that slammed New York's coastal communities in October 2012, they also washed away any false notions we had that we care sufficiently for poor people.

I was down in Washington when 9/11 happened. We were in the middle of putting together the next summer season, and all I could think of was something somehow must make sense to us. Our Town kept coming into my mind.

We have to change course. And we have to do so now. That is why I worked with my colleagues in Washington to pass the Economic Recovery and Reinvestment Act.

I was literally seeing stars, and every ragged breath I took felt like I was trying to breathe through broken glass. On the upside, my crush on Archer was totally gone. Over. Once a boy has slammed his kneecap into your rib cage, I think any romantic feeling should naturally go the way of the ghost.

Crack! I covered my head, ducked down. Bird didn't laugh. She likened me to a survivor of some traumatic event who is always spooked by certain noises. She just touched my shoulder and said, "It went the other way." I straightened up. "But it was a foul ball." "Yeah." I hated that I kept flinching. I wondered how long it was going to take before I could totally relax at a game.

You'll be okay, Chels," I said. The words seemed lame, but I knew the truth of them. Or at least it seemed like I was getting over Dylan. I only thought about him every minute of every day now, instead of every second.

She eventually got strung out herself, was arrested, took a narcotics number, a never-never number she called it, and had been in and out of prison ever since, on sales and trafficking charges.

If the borderline rage that had fueled me for so long was torn down and taken away, would there be anything left? Or would it take the life, the spirit, right out of me? I was daunted by the prospect of letting go without a clear idea of what would emerge in the old framework's place.

Former pleasures meant nothing to me anymore. Life was a series of tasks to be endured, and even the simplest ones were painfully arduous. It took everything I could muster to cook a meal, wash the dishes, or do the laundry. My income was virtually nonexistent. My occupation was therapy.

I was getting better at controlling my emotional reactions. When feelings overwhelmed me, I learned to thwart the burning temptation to act self-destructively and to sit with the feelings instead.

mental illness, depression, was indeed an illness with a physiological basis. It wasn't a sign of failure. I wasn't a failure.

Broken hearts never truly heal, they mend, beat a little differently, forever after.

Bruises on the soul hurt even more than bruises on the leg and take longer to heal. Maybe the trick is to try to avoid smashing into stuff so much. And then to be kind to ourselves as we slowly heal.

But we are starting again, Jem. If I hadn't met you, it probably would have been dope and pills and smoking crack and shooting up junk. Prison. Hospitalization. That's how it would have been for me, but you saved me from that. It's going to be different for us now."

And for a minute there, I lost my self.