Quotes About Struggle

sometimes people are broken and don't know how to mend because they aren't able to say what they need or deeply want. Sometimes you get to a point in life where you realize you've made a terrible mistake and you desperately need to fix it, but it's so deep and bitterly ingrained you can't start.

She would do whatever it took in the Lord's or the devil's name to survive now.

The pain, the sense of loss, of fear—it would hit out of nowhere. She'd learned this. She'd also learned to accept it, and to bow under it, give in to it, because the harder she tried to shove it away, the harder it hit next time around, and it would be all the more debilitating

PTSD sucked. It was a dragon that lived inside her own head, shaking loose more and more nightmarish memories, each one prompting another like dominoes tumbling.

nothing is more desirable than to be released from an affliction, it also holds true that nothing is more terrifying than to be divested of a crutch.

Stella, Nathan, and Steven looked at each other in the beams of their headlamps, which they'd clicked on as the twilight thickened. The wind moved the trees again. Darkness was growing complete. The rain was turning to sleet. Despite the sweat over her body, Stella's hands were numb with cold, and her fingers were growing uncooperative. A recipe for hypothermia.

got treatment. I worked hard—I did the work. I got well again, Arwen. I was a child. Twelve. I was confused, unwell, and I'd come under the spell of a twisted, Charles Manson–like young man. A Paul Bernardo.

Whatever the answers, I am now pushed up against the Monster I've been trying to hide from. And suddenly I face two paths. Just two choices: Either accept this and allow myself to be violated all over again—remain the Anonymous Girl and hide even deeper behind my masks and coping mechanisms. Or this time stand tall. Fight back. Be seen. No longer the ghost.

us down? Does understanding help us heal? I don't think anything really heals trauma. You just find some kind of narrative to learn to cohabit with it.

Sometimes, Angie thought, the difference between heaven and hell was people. Sometimes, no matter how hard you tried, you made no difference at all.

don't think anything really heals trauma. You just find some kind of narrative to learn to cohabit with it. I suppose now is the time to admit to you, Dear Diary, I never had a therapist. I always imagined that if I did she would coax me to start a journal.

He loves me. I won't let her do this to me—ruin my chances . . . He's going to marry me. Both our families know it. We have our future cut out, and I won't let this stupid fat foreigner kid destroy what the two of us can become. We worked for it.

herself to her knees. The floor was rotted wood. He unsheathed the knife he'd taken from her, and he sliced through the rope securing her wrists. She winced as her left arm fell free. Eugene reached for the jacket zipper at her neck. With a ripping sound he yanked it down and pushed open her jacket. He slid it off her shoulders. Her jacket fell to the ground. He punched her

So much anger," she says softly. "It's the embarrassment, the humiliation. For a cerebral man like him, a professor of forensic psychology who's defined by his mind . . ." Her voice fades.

The truth . . . sets you free." His breathing changes. He struggles to get his next words out. "It's . . . the secrets that fester. You . . . think you've buried them, gotten rid of them somehow, but they're like this damned cancer. The minute you're down, the second you grow tired, it starts to grow again,

Your father and I, we immigrated, Katarina, so you wouldn't grow up like us. We did it for you. We struggled for you. I cleaned houses and hotel rooms for you. All for you. Everything. And look at what you have done to us." Then my mother got sick. Really sick.

Now you can't even dispose of your dear mother's ashes, the mother who gave up everything in native Ukraine for you so you could have a better life. You never could finish things off properly. You even dropped out of school after we saved all the money for your university education. Too much drinking. Too much partying. Bad crowd.

This was supposed to be mine. Labden guaranteed me the COO position for the new resort when it comes online. I've put my heart and sweat into this company for years. TerraWest has traded on my name, my Olympic fame, my gold medals, for God's sake. I'm married to the founder's daughter.

She's always trying to be 'perfect' in this 'perfect' town. She's the one who was so busy being perfect that her husband left her for another—more perfect—woman.

Since after the accident. I heard. But sometimes people are broken and don't know how to mend because they aren't able to say what they need or deeply want. Sometimes you get to a point in life where you realize you've made a terrible mistake and you desperately need to fix it, but it's so deep and bitterly ingrained you can't start.

It sort of is," says Joe. "It's been like that for . . . My mom sometimes needs someone to watch out for her. She—she gets drunk, high, does stupid things.

Matthew figures it must be pretty horrible to need therapy if it makes people so sad.

it wasn't just bad guys who hurt young girls, it was bureaucracy. Pride. Territorialism

Otherwise they make me try again. Getting old and sick is not for the meek, I tell you." She hesitates, coughs. "It's such hard work sometimes I wonder if it's worth fighting to stay alive.