Quotes About Recovery

How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart, you begin to understand, there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep...that have taken hold.

Fear of breakdown is the fear of a breakdown that has already been experienced

E se me apaixonar perdidamente por ele, e mesmo assim ele vá embora daqui?) Nesse caso, você vai recolher os seus cacos, juntá-los novamente e prosseguir com sua vida. Mas, pelo menos , pode saber saber como é amar alguém de verdade.

Given love and opportunity, every child and adult can recover. All who know this and have the capacity to help others should assist as they can.

Hickory dickory dock my daddy's nuts from shell shock. Humpty dumpty thought he was wise till gas came along and burned out his eyes. A dillar a dollar a ten o clock scholar blow off his legs and then watch him holler. Rockaby baby in the tree top don't stop a bomb or you'll probably flop. Now I lay me down to sleep my bombproof cellars good and deep but if I'm killed before I wake remember god its for your sake amen.

How do you make someone understand what it means or how it feels to be torn in half? Not many people know this desperate need to be put back together again.

My heart, soul, body, and mind all have scars that will never properly heal. Still, I survived.

Ma and Pa stood over Jake as he sat on the ground, catching his breath and still holding Emmie's rag doll.

We pick up the pieces, Donna. Some of them are broken.

Caches of data are being recovered all the time. Why, just the other day, I heard that we now had complete texts for all three of Shakespire's plays!

Veeva should count her blessings. Three years ago it was cocaine and a year ago it was crack and lemme tell you, that stuff you got to have. You do anything for that high." He laughed again, savoring his memories. "Where do you think the furniture went? Up my nose, that's where. She finally had me carted out of here screaming like an insane man. Spent some time in Bellevue with little sparkly bugs coming out my orifices. Compared to that being a drunk is practically a sensible existence.

The damage done through abuse is awful and heinous, but minor compared to the dynamics that distort the victim's relationship with God and rob her of the joy of loving and being loved by others.

All it took was a couple weeks and boom--they sucked the crazy out of you and your soul went with it.

My secret weapon is my anger. That's what stimulates me as an artist. I want change. I want it yesterday. I'm pissed off at America. Society. American movies. American TV. American culture. American politicians. Capitalism. I'm a little like my old man in that way only I'm a recovered drunk. He wasn't. I should have been dead years ago like my brother but somehow I dodged the bullet and it gave me something to say. Impatience and rage are always just beneath the surface for me.

Organized religion is horseshit. Spirituality -- the spirituality that I've come to know and experience -- has nothing to do with religion. Were it not for my relationship with a God of my experience I would be dead. Actually I did die. Now I'm this other guy with a pencil in one hand and a bullhorn in the other.

Because I have to treat the mental part of my disease. Quitting booze is one thing. Living with my brain sober is another.

He was hooked to machines with a nursing staff at his beck and call.

I had lost my mind and fallen into my heart.

Statistically, people recover or die at the same rate with or without attempted faith healing.

Guilt was a living, breathing thing. Guilt could tie you tighter than ropes, and he should know. He had extensive experience with both. He'd been the captive of a madman, along with Jess, for three days that had felt like an eternity. Then, this past year, he'd been a POW in Afghanistan, the prisoner of insurgents, for six torturous months. Yet it had been the three days with Jess that had broken him in ways the insurgents could never accomplish.

But the expression that just past over her face said it all. Anita was trying to forget something dreadful, something that just kept on pushing itself to the surface of her mind no matter what she did.

Unchain Your Brain: 10 Steps to Breaking the Addictions That Steal Your Life

within a couple of weeks even earthquake survivors return to their normal level of unfounded optimism.

that's not how wounds heal. They don't obey our wishes. Healing takes place in its own way and in its own time.