Quotes About Recovery

you mourn, you hurt and you start to heal.

Every great loss demands that we choose life again. We need to grieve in order to do this. The pain we have not grieved over will always stand between us and life. When we don't grieve, a part of us becomes caught in the past like Lot's wife who, because she looked back, was turned into a pillar of salt.

To have your life blow up four times before you're thirty would take something out of anyone, and I think it drained from my mom just enough hope that she never quite built her confidence back to what it once had been.

Not all wounds are the bleeding kind

His resiliency was not the resiliency of the dumb but of a lamb who can remember hurt but cannot sustain the anger or the bitterness that brittles the heart.

All junkies are nuts.

Everyone is damaged, but the heart can be repaired.

At forty-four, though bitter, she was nonetheless grateful that she hadn't been rendered penniless. Having clawed her way to the top once before, she'd been left with just enough assets to start the climb again. This time she would not make the mistake that had led to her ruin; she would not marry.

That was when you discovered she'd recently begun using PCP—what's sometimes called 'angel dust' on the street.

Hearts and minds heal with time, which is a grace of the human condition

THE WORLD IS FULL of broken people. Splints, casts, miracle drugs, and time can't mend fractured hearts, wounded minds, torn spirits.

Here, in the quiet hours after midnight. Like sitting on a beach. The night rolls and breaks and tosses up our losses like bits of wreckage, all that's left of one ship or another.

When I first learned that Paul had been killed, the grief had been all-consuming, and I didn't think I would be able to go on. Yet life continues to move forward, and so have I, dragging from one day into the next until I found I could breathe normally.

We get so busy that it's easy to let some things slide. We can either pick them up again, or let them stay lost.... I never thought about knitting like that, though.

she felt a quiet joy, an awareness that she could be happy again.

One adjusts, although you never fully recover from the loss of a loved one.

I think Mr. Roarke's been burned. His tender heart was shattered by a careless affair that left him bleeding and raw.

It was awkward, too. People didn't know what to say after the accident. In fact, I didn't want anyone to say anything. What I needed was someone to listen. Few of my friends understood that.

Grandmother was gone. The house was gone. Green Valley was gone.

There's been too much hurt. Too much pain. I just want it to stop.

Sometimes I heard voices muttering in my head, and a lot of the time the world seemed to smolder around its edges. but I was in a little better physical shape every day, I was getting my looks back, and my spirits were rising, and this was all in all a happy time for me. All these weirdos, and me getting a little better right in the midst of them. I had never known, never even imagined for a heartbeat, that there might be a place for people like us.

The first time I didn't say anything, because she shot me in the mouth.

But I was in a little better physical shape every day, I was getting my looks back, and my spirits were rising, and this was all in all a happy time for me. All these weirdos, and me getting a little better every day right in the midst of them. I have never known, never even imagined for a heartbeat, that there might be a place for people like us.

The door to Jackson's opens and a man staggers out. He crab-walks away from them, along the pavement until he hits a lamp post. He clings to it, waiting until his legs agree to listen to orders. Confident he has reached an entente cordiale with his knees, he straightens up, watching his rebel legs to see if the truce holds. It does, but only for standing. The moment he attempts a step he is swept around the corner like a trawlerman thrown from a deck in a storm.