Quotes About Healing

The kaleidoscope remains the most efficacious instrument for those of us who've been shattered. There's so much I can't explain if someone would just give me the chance...

I'd had my heart broken, you see. Fell in love with the wrong chap and he crushed me right down to the bedrock. Nothing left but humiliation.

She is wrong, you know. What you do is important. You save people," I told him, pressing my lips to the half-moon scar high upon his cheekbone. "You saved me." His arm tightened about my waist and we stood for a long moment, wrapped in each other.

Mourning is a bitch. And it's a process. You're just not finished with it." "That's the point," she said. "I think I am. At least I want to be. I am so sick and tired of waking up feeling like someone tore off one of my limbs. Every morning, for just a few seconds, I forget. I wake up and it hasn't happened yet. There's nothing but emptiness and calm. And then it comes crashing down and I hate it. I hate it so much.

You have suffered a terrible blow, but you shall recover. You are young and strong, and you will feel this pain acutely because as yet in your life you have not suffered much. But you must believe me when I tell you that this will be blunted, the edge will not cut so deep after a while. You will enjoy life again, and you will laugh and love and weep for others.

Hurt is a weapon. Better weapon than most because it doesn't look like one.

Love with someone else, an actual person, was another matter. People got hurt doing that. People cried and wrapped their arms around themselves and rocked with loss. Loving words got turned to fierce, sharp, whip-cracks of anger that lefft permanent marks. At the least, it disappointed you. At most, it damaged you.

We hurt each other, is the point. Hurt, annoy, embarrass, but move on. People, it just doesn't work that way. Your own feelings get so complicated that you forget the ways another human being can be vulnerable. You spend a lot of energy protecting yourself. All those layers and motivations and feelings. You get hurt, you stay hurt sometimes. The hurt affects your ability to go forward. And words. All the words between us. Words can be permanent. Certain ones are impossible to forgive.

If time heals all wounds, and a book can hold a person's entire life, then you can speed up the process with a pulp time warp.

But an apology too — you think you're giving something, but you're not. You're really asking for something. You're asking for forgiveness, you're asking for the other injured person to make it okay for you. Apologies were harder work for the person getting one than the person giving one.

The hurt affects your ability to go forward.

Grief is everywhere. It's its own being. It walks beside you silently, jumps out at you meanly, pokes you awake at night. It makes tears roll down your cheeks at a blue sky.

Sometimes that's all you need. To know it's not broken. To know you're still whole and that you'll heal.

Because that's how it works after something terrible has happened. You know this is true if something terrible has ever happened to you. A thousand objects take on new meaning. Everything is a reminder of something else.

A human heart is the size of two hands clasped together. Imagine your own hands joined, or your hand in someone else's, because that is what hands are for, and what hearts are for: holding each other. This can be very, very hard to remember when hearts have been so broken.

Grief is everywhere. It's its own being. It walks beside you silently, jumps out at you meanly; pokes you awake at night.

Maybe she could quit her big job of being responsible for everyone else's feelings...She imagines it—letting go. Handing the heavy stuff back to the people it belongs to.

Hey," I say back. It's a Hey of Almost Forgiveness. "I've got something I want to show you. Will you come somewhere with me?" Oh, all right. As long as it's anywhere. "Okay.

Sometimes silence is not an indicator of not caring, but a way to give time and space to the one who's hurting. Only judge when time passes ad the void widens such that the chasm cannot be bridged.

During my mental illness, thank God, my grandma was my human rescuer and angel, she ask me to stop taking the medication, leading to the recovering.

No matter how long it takes to heal...we share the same scars...

Bitterness leads to brokenness in spirit.

I will not let triggers, flashbacks, nightmares control my emotions.I will not let those triedto destroy me win this war.I have awakened and I willfind peace with myself.

She who heals herself, heals others.