Quotes About Recovery

When you gain 50 pounds during pregnancy like I did, you fear that you'll never get back in shape.

Shortly after the burial of the woman, I got sick with a burning fever. Late in the evening I started for Lamy Junction, the nearest store, a distance of 12 miles, to get a bottle of Carter's little liver pills, my favorite remedy when feeling badly. I secured a room in the Harvey hotel and taking a dose of pills, went to bed for the night. Next morning I felt worse and was burning up with fever. Still

This life is a hospital in which every patient is possessed with a desire to change his bed.

Her recovery was sometimes referred to as "a miracle," more miraculous than mine, but I don't believe in miracles, just the force of compassion, which under certain circumstances can bring the dead to life.

I often said that when they put me in jail in 1981 it was not the FBI's intent, but they saved my life. They only have seven days in a week, and by the time I went to jail I was drinking eight.

Many a morning I found myself waking up in America and being surprised to find myself in a bed. I had been having nightmares all night long, and I didn't know where I was. It would take me awhile to adjust, because I couldn't believe I was in a bed. What was I doing in a bed? After the war I never slept more than three or four hours a night. In

out-of-court settlement. I tried to be easygoing again like I was before I went in the war, but I couldn't get the hang of it. It didn't take much to provoke me. I'd just flare up. Drinking helped ease that a little. I hung around with my old

Grief carries its own antidote along with it.

Prison and the asylums had made me worse, not better. I had truly become a hostage of my past, condemned by my reputation and my fucked-up mind.

On December 11,1934, Wilson's drinking came to a screeching halt. On that day he was readmitted to Towns Hospital, sedated, and subjected to Dr. Silkworth's "belladonna cure," a treatment regimen which included morphine and other psychoactive drugs in addition to belladonna (which in large doses is a powerful hallucinogen).5 While under the influence of the "cure," Bill Wilson experienced his "spiritual awakening.

As well, the very religiosity of step 2 is a major problem for many persons. Like steps 3, 5, 6, 7 and 11, step 2 refers to "God," "Him," or "a Power greater than ourselves." (Note the capitalization.) This poses obvious problems for those who believe that the existence of God is no more likely than the existence of Mother Goose.

In sum, the 12 steps are not a road to recovery, let alone the road to recovery. They are, instead, a road to a substitute dependency—a dependency upon AA rather than upon alcohol.

those who escape hell however never talk about it and nothing much bothers them after that.

A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover.

After the onslaught of loss, both personal and historical, do we really believe a good lunch and an aesthetic perception settles the matter?

Not knowing how he lost himself, or how he recovered himself, he may never feel certain of not losing himself again.

Scattered wits take a long time in picking up.

I found every breath of air, and every scent, and every flower and leaf and blade of grass and every passing cloud, and everything in nature, more beautiful and wonderful to me than I had ever found it yet. This was my first gain from my illness. How little I had lost, when the wide world was so full of delight for me.

and it was not until I began to think, that I began fully to know how wrecked I was, and how the ship in which I had sailed was gone to pieces.

Time has been lost and opportunity thrown away, but I am yet a young man, and may retrieve it.

Such a number of nights,' said the girl, with a touch of woman's tenderness, which communicated something like sweetness of tone, even to her voice; 'such a number of nights as I've been patient with you, nursing and caring for you, as if you had been a child: and this the first that I've seen you like yourself; you wouldn't have served me as you did just now, if you'd thought of that, would you? Come, come; say you wouldn't.

How goes it, Jacques?" said one of these three to Monsieur Defarge. "Is all the spilt wine swallowed?" "Every drop, Jacques,

his face thrown up to the sky, and his head hanging down; then recovered himself, fumbled with his cap, and made a bow.

I have been bent and broken, but – I hope – into a better shape." Estella in Great Expectations