Quotes About Recovery

are attempts to regain some of the control I felt I lost when my mother died.

I used to have a drug problem, now I make enough money.

Answerless questions can destroy you. Move on.

Love and I once had a great relationship, but I fear we've broken up. It cheated on me, wrecked my heart, and then went on to date other people. A lot of other people. And I can't stand to watch it, since love's going to cheat on them too.

You spend so much time, so much effort, trying to hold yourself together. And then everything falls apart anyway.

I don't want you to think I got through this undamaged, okay? But I'm learning to live with it. Because otherwise, the damage is all you are.

Maybe there is hope in the fragments, that what is lost can always be filled in by someone who knows.

They beat the shit out of me. But you know what? I didn't need that shit inside of me. I'm glad it's gone.

When the shock wears off, you always hope there's understanding underneath.

That's what it felt like---that if I let a little of the hurt out, it would keep pouring out until I was a deflated balloon of a person, with a big monster of hurt in front of me.

We were over and I wasn't over it.

the sadness will ebb the trouble is the time it might take

Answerless questions can destroy. Move on. - A

The proper verb for depression is sink.

I realize that miss her or not missing her isn't the point. The point is that I'm still carrying around what happened as much as she is. And I need to get rid of it.

Your heart is stronger than any of the hurts inflicted. Even the ones that were self-inflicted. - Ezra

Não tenho muito a perder. Mas, sem dúvida, vai parecer que perdi tudo.

Naps can be devils of disorientation.

They beat the shit out of me," he told people, soon after. "But you know what? I didn't need that shit inside of me. I'm glad it's gone.

His embarassment would have pleased me, but once he recovered, there would be that awkward period that sometimes culminates in a handshake. I didn't want to touch these people's hands or see things from their point of view, I just wanted to continue hating them. So I kept my mouth shut and stared off into space.

I later learn that what I suffered was called blunt force trauma. It's remarkably similar to how I felt after the election, as if I'd been slammed into a wall or hit by a car. Both pains persist-show no signs, in fact, of ever going away. The damage is permanent. I will never be the same as I was before the accident/election.

What ultimately did me in was the self-adhesive condom. Putting it on was no problem, but its removal qualified as what, in certain cultures, is known as a bris. Wear it once, and you'll need a solid month to fully recover. It will likely be a month in which you'll weigh the relative freedom of peeing in your pants against the unsightly discomfort of a scab-covered penis, ultimately realizing that, in terms of a convenient accessory

Then one day you wake up normal, restored to health—a miracle. At first you're incredibly grateful—your appetite's back, and your energy level. There's a bit of you, though, that misses the razor's edge, the terrible thrill that at any moment you might lose control fo yourself and finally know what total disgrace feels like.

Slip too far beneath the surface, and wouldn't your family resuscitate you with a loan or rehab or whatever it was you needed to get back on your feet?