Quotes About Recovery

ero no reapareció muy lejos, porque no tenía fuerzas para llegar por medios mágicos hasta su casa. Se materializó en lo alto de la torre y contempló el horizonte mientras trataba de recuperarse un poco.

Because the human experience involves loss, we need to feel it, express it, and then release it. Only then do we achieve healing.

We had to rebuild him, both mentally and physically, but you don't have to rebuild the heart when it's already there, big as all outdoors.

I can't describe the feeling he gave me," Howard said later, "but somehow I knew he had what it takes. Tom and I realized that we had our worries and troubles ahead. We had to rebuild him, both mentally and physically, but you don't have to rebuild the heart when it's already there, big as all outdoors.

McMullen came out of Japan racked by nightmares and so nervous that he was barely able to speak cogently. When he told his story to his family, his father accused him of lying and forbade him to speak of the war. Shattered and deeply depressed, McMullen couldn't eat, and his weight plunged back down to ninety pounds. He went to a veterans' hospital, but the doctors simply gave him B12 shots.

Some former POWs became almost feral with rage. For many men, seeing an Asian person or overhearing a snippet of Japanese left them shaking, weeping, enraged, or lost in flashbacks. One former POW, normally gentle and quiet, spat at every Asian person he saw. At Letterman General Hospital just after the war, four former POWs tried to attack a staffer who was of Japanese ancestry, not knowing that he was an American veteran. Troubled former POWs found nowhere to turn.

And, for the first few months after her surgeries, Holly had felt, horribly, as if she'd been turned into a machine, an unkillable robot. She had terrible dreams in which she was searching for her body parts on shelves lined with thousands of other body parts, floating in thousands of jars. In the dreams, Holly was convinced that her soul had been located in one of those body parts, and now her soul was trapped for eternity in formaldehyde and glass.

The human heart must be a strong and resilient thing, Daphne decided when she awoke the following morning. She was surprised to find that she was no longer in the throes of wrenching heartbreak and pain. Instead, in a strange way, she felt as if she had been reborn.

Ah, so using marijuana was no longer about feeling good. He had to use marijuana just to keep from feeling bad, a classic sign of substance use disorder.

Sometimes it's nice to be sick, to give up trying to function, to crawl into bed and be cared for a little.

You can not die of grief, though it feels as if you can. A heart does not actually break, though sometimes your chest aches as if it is breaking. Grief dims with time. It is the way of things. There comes a day when you smile again, and you feel like a traitor. How dare I feel happy. How dare I be glad in a world where my father is no more. And then you cry fresh tears, because you do not miss him as much as you once did, and giving up your grief is another kind of death.

He almost died," I pointed out. "Not that I have any other experience of it, but I would guess that when people almost die, their worth automatically goes up, at least to some small degree.

I am feeling much better now. I am fairly certain it was your letters that kept me alive.

This"I'm so over him. This is me, being over him. La,la,la.

That bitch is like the fucking clap. You think you've killed her but she pops back up to ruin your day over and over. Except Vampires can't contract social diseases. So she's worse.

I'd heard a saying about meth, that it took you down one of three roads: jail, the psych ward, or death.

He told me about his slow realization that when one person in a family was sick, the whole family was sick. In Jason's case, the sick person was his father, who was nice enough when he was sober, but mean as a snake when he was drunk.

I wonder if this is how people always get close: They heal each other's wounds; they repair the broken skin.

But you can build a future out of anything. A scrap, a flicker. The desire to go forward, slowly, one foot at a time. You can build an airy city out of ruins.

After all, when you are sick, there are plenty of places (insurance willing) where you can go to get healed, but when you are healed are there any places you can go to learn not to be sick?

I found some way to recovery. But I know, have always known, that I could go back. Mysterious neurons collide and break. The brain bruises. Memories you thought were buried rise up.

Getting better was a grief. One morning you woke up and your fever had fled. Your throat felt depressingly fine.

But what happens if such a patient, say myself, for instance, has rarely if ever experienced a normal state of functioning? What happens if such a patient has spent much of her life in mental hospitals, both pursuing and being pursued by one's illness after another? What happens if "regular life" to such a person has always meant cutting one's arms, or gagging?

2,668 people are still missing Nearly