Motivation Pills Quotes

It is not depression or anxiety that truly hurts us. It is our active resistance against these states of mind and body. If you wake up with low energy, hopeless thoughts, and a lack of motivation - that is a signal from you to you. That is a sure sign that something in your mind or in your life is making you sick, and you must attend to that signal. But what do most people do? They hate their depressed feelings. They think "Why me?" They push them down. They take a pill. And so, the feelings return again and again, knocking at your door with a message while you turn up all the noise in your cave, refusing to hear the knocks. Madness. Open the door. Invite in depression. Invite anxiety. Invite self-hatred. Invite shame. Hear their message. Give them a hug. Accept their tirades as exaggerated mistruths typical of any upset person. Love your darkness and you shall know your light.

The only way to determine genuine motivation and/or intent is to observe the behavior of an individual.

Dust sleeping on your bookshelf and all your plants are drying out you are too busy to save yourself is your mind heading for burnout? Coffee rings on your bedside table anxiety pills under your pillowcase working round the clock to foot the bill is there no time for breakfast these days? Friends haven't seen you in a while your phone is always out of reach you're slowly forgetting how to smile is your silence a figure of speech? Life can sometimes seem to be unfair but hoping is better than you think send the message in a bottle if you dare is it so hard to not force yourself to sink?

If you don’t feel like changing and don’t have the motivation to do it for you then there’s not a single diet or pill that will work.

The thing I don't understand about the suicide person is the people who try to commit suicide, for some reason they don't die, and that's it. They stop trying. Why don't they just keep trying? What's changed? Is their life any better now? No. In fact. it's worse, because now they've found out here's one more thing you stink at. And that's why these people don't succeed in life to begin with. They give up too easy. I say, pills don't work? Try a rope. Car won't start in the garage? Get a tune-up. There's nothing more rewarding than reaching a goal you've set for yourself.

Self belief is the multivitamin pill that helps you to go that extra mile and provides motivational fuel 24X7 to achieve your goals.

You cannot change the past. This truth can be a hard pill to swallow.

For example, the fact that school is boring, arduous, and full of busywork might hinder students’ ability to learn. But to the extent that school is primarily about credentialing, its goal is to separate the wheat (good future worker bees) from the chaff (slackers, daydreamers, etc.). And if school were easy or fun, it wouldn’t serve this function very well. If there were a way to fast-forward all the learning (and retention) that actually takes place in school—for example, by giving students a magic pill that taught them everything in an instant—we would still need to subject them to boring lectures and nitpicky tests in order to credential them.

You will fall in love with someone who you will have to walk away from, because they don’t love you. You must accept the fact that they don’t have your best interests in mind. That’s a tough pill to swallow, but you must swallow it for you own the sake. You have nothing further to prove to them love yourself enough to grab your bootstraps pick yourself up and keep moving

And no matter how many times the girl offered her hand, her mother refused it. It was the usual struggle between one who loves by accepting burdens and one who loves by refusing to be one. Really the mother’s pursuit of pills wasn’t motivated by the necessity of avoiding pain, but a determination to avoid any feeling at all. That’s why the pills were better than holding the child’s hand.

Sometimes you have to walk away from people, not because you don’t care, but because they don’t. When someone hurts you accept the fact that they don’t have your best interests in mind. It’s a tough pill to swallow, but its necessary medicine. Do not strive to impress them any further. Waste not another second of your time trying to prove something to them. Nothing has to be proven. Do not act with any thought of them ever again.

Sometimes you have to walk away from people, not because you don’t care, but because they don’t. When someone hurts you accept the fact that they don’t have your best interests in mind. It’s a tough pill to swallow, but its necessary medicine. Do not strive to impress them any further. Waste not another second of your time trying to prove something to them. Nothing has to be proven. Do not act with any thought of them ever again.

their footfalls? Finally some combination thereof, or these many things as permutations of each other—as alternative vocabularies? However it was, by January I was winnowed, and soon dispensed with pills and analysis (the pills I was weaned from gradually), and took up my unfinished novel again, Our Lady of the Forest, about a girl who sees the Virgin Mary, a man who wants a miracle, a priest who suffers spiritual anxiety, and a woman in thrall to cynicism. It seems to me now that the sum of those figures mirrors the shape of my psyche before depression, and that the territory of the novel forms a map of my psyche in the throes of gathering disarray. The work as code for the inner life, and as fodder for my own biographical speculations. Depression, in this conceit, might be grand mal writer’s block. Rather than permitting its disintegration at the hands of assorted unburied truths risen into light as narrative, the ego incites a tempest in the brain, leaving the novelist to wander in a whiteout with his half-finished manuscript awry in his arms, where the wind might blow it away. I don’t find this facile. It seems true—or true for me—that writing fiction is partly psychoanalysis, a self-induced and largely unconscious version. This may be why stories threaten readers with the prospect of everything from the merest dart wound to a serious breach in the superstructure. To put it another way, a good story addresses the psyche directly, while the gatekeeper ego, aware of this trespass—of a message sent so daringly past its gate, a compelling dream insinuating inward—can only quaver through a story’s reading and hope its ploys remains unilluminated. Against a story of penetrating virtuosity—The Metamorphosis, or Lear on the heath—this gatekeeper can only futilely despair, and comes away both revealed and provoked, and even, at times, shattered. In lesser fiction—fiction as entertainment, narcissism, product, moral tract, or fad—there is also some element of the unconscious finding utterance, chiefly because it has the opportunity, but in these cases its clarity and force are diluted by an ill-conceived motive, and so it must yield control of the story to the transparently self-serving ego, to that ostensible self with its own small agenda in art as well as in life. * * * Like

We're all walking around like zombies half the time, and since the default setting of the mind is somewhere between chaos at one extreme and apathetic negativity at the other, we spend a good bit of our time just feeling like crap, unless of course you're taking a “feel-good” pill, then you might feel a little bit better than crap, except for the potential side-effects of drowsiness, decreased motivation and sex-drive, nausea, and anal leakage (just kidding, I don't think anal leakage is a true side-effect, but it may

You will fall in love with someone who you will have to walk away from, because they don’t love you. You must accept the fact that they don’t have your best interests in mind. That’s a tough pill to swallow, but you must swallow it for you own the sake. You have nothing further to prove to them love yourself enough to grab your bootstraps pick yourself up and keep moving

Why, after all, was all that effort necessary if pain patients could be given pills with little risk of addiction? Patients, too, were hard to motivate when the treatment required behavior changes, such as more exercise. Pills were an easier solution. Multidisciplinary clinics began to fade. Over a thousand such clinics existed nationwide in 1998; only eighty-five were around seven years later.

Escape is a process, not a pill.

Going to doctors and getting a pill for every issue has a subconscious effect to avert personal responsibility, and the motivation for patients to earn back their health is lessened.

The only way of feeding Soul and Spirit is to read the bible,by doing that you give the inner man the right guidence of doing things, build spiritual muscles burns unneeded fat by guiding you,it become a weapon of fighting evil force like pills and injection which is fighting with deseases in your body, give you authority over things heppen in your life, it is God himself who deal with situations practical,that how you health Spirit,mind and Soul

While these medications may make slight alterations to the neurobiology of your brain, they do not necessarily have the power to influence your mind. To truly recover from depression—or any other mental illness—you have to find the motivation to keep moving forward, to dream, to hope, and to embrace not only what is practical but what is possible. Those feelings are the ones that will carry you through the darkest nights into a brighter tomorrow, with the knowledge and faith that life is beautiful and good. Unfortunately, no pill can give you that.

Out looking yes you beautiful but it not automatically tell us that you beautiful inside some makeover needed there there's no need for being a problem to others as you look beautiful be too inside you Jesus Christ is helping pill on that just accept him and he'll do the work easy.

Strong will is a pill that will kill cancer. Cancer is a drill uphill but still, take a chill, get the courage-like skill, let it spill, let your heart fill with this little thrill and march till you grill every cancer cell to nil.

Here’s a classic case in point: Eva had been taking an antidepressant for two years but wanted to get off it because she was planning to get pregnant. Her doctor advised her not to stop taking the drug, which motivated her to see me. Eva explained that her saga had begun with PMS, featuring a week each month when she was irritable and prone to crying fits. Her doctor prescribed a birth control pill (a common treatment) and soon Eva was feeling even worse, with insomnia, fatigue, low libido, and a generally flat mood dogging her all month long. That’s when the doctor added the Wellbutrin to “pick her up,” as he said, and handle her presumed depression. From Eva’s perspective, she felt that the antidepressant helped her energy level, but it had limited benefits in terms of her mood and libido. And if she took it after midnight, her insomnia was exacerbated. She soon became accustomed to feeling stable but suboptimal, and she was convinced that the medication was keeping her afloat. The good news for Eva was that with careful preparation, she could leave medication behind—and restore her energy, her equilibrium, and her sense of control over her emotions. Step one consisted of some basic diet and exercise changes along with better stress response strategies. Step two involved stopping birth control pills and then testing her hormone levels. Just before her period, she had low cortisol and progesterone, which were likely the cause of the PMS that started her whole problem. Further testing revealed borderline low thyroid function, which may well have been the result of the contraceptives—and the cause of her increased depressive symptoms. When Eva was ready to begin tapering off her medication, she did so following my protocol. Even as her brain and body adjusted to not having the antidepressant surging through her system anymore, her energy levels improved, her sleep problems resolved, and her anxiety lifted. Within a year she was healthy, no longer taking any prescriptions, feeling good—and pregnant.

Gentle Sir Conan, I'll venture that few have been Half as prodigiously lucky as you have been. Fortune, the flirt! has been wondrously kind to you. Ever beneficent, sweet and refined to you. Doomed to the practise of physic and surgery, Yet, growing weary of pills and physicianing, Off to the Arctic you packed, expeditioning. Roving and dreaming, Ambition, that heady sin, Gave you a spirit too restless for medicine: That, I presume, as Romance is the quest of us, Made you an Author-the same as the rest of us. Ah, but the rest of us clamor distressfully, "How do you manage the game so successfully? Tell us, disclose to us how under Heaven you Squeeze from the inkpot so splendid a revenue!" Then, when you'd published your volume that vindicates England's South African raid (or the Syndicate's), Pleading that Britain's extreme bellicosity Wasn't (as most of us think) an atrocity Straightaway they gave you a cross with a chain to it (Oh, what an honor! I could not attain to it, Not if I lived to the age of Methusalem!) Made you a knight of St. John of Jerusalem! Faith! as a teller of tales you've the trick with you! Still there's a bone I've been wanting to pick with you: Holmes is your hero of drama and serial: All of us know where you dug the material! Whence he was moulded-'tis almost a platitude; Yet your detective, in shameless ingratitude Sherlock your sleuthhound with motives ulterior Sneers at Poe's "Dupin" as "very inferior!" Labels Gaboriau's clever "Lecoq," indeed, Merely "a bungler," a creature to mock, indeed! This, when your plots and your methods in story owe More than a trifle to Poe and Gaboriau, Sets all the Muses of Helicon sorrowing. Borrow, Sir Knight, but in decent borrowing! Still let us own that your bent is a cheery one, Little you've written to bore or to weary one, Plenty that's slovenly, nothing with harm in it, Give me detective with brains analytical Rather than weaklings with morals mephitical Stories of battles and man's intrepidity Rather than wails of neurotic morbidity! Give me adventures and fierce dinotheriums Rather than Hewlett's ecstatic deliriums! Frankly, Sir Conan, some hours I've eased with you And, on the whole, I am pretty well pleased with you

Scientists and engineers tend to divide their work into two large categories, sometimes described as basic research and directed research. Some of the most crucial inventions and discoveries of the modern world have come about through basic research—that is, work that was not directed toward any particular use. Albert Einstein’s picture of the universe, Alexander Fleming’s discovery of penicillin, Niels Bohr’s blueprint of the atomic nucleus, the Watson-Crick “double helix” model of DNA—all these have had enormous practical implications, but they all came out of basic research. There are just as many basic tools of modern life—the electric light, the telephone, vitamin pills, the Internet—that resulted from a clearly focused effort to solve a particular problem. In a sense, this distinction between basic and directed research encompasses the difference between science and engineering. Scientists, on the whole, are driven by the thirst for knowledge; their motivation, as the Nobel laureate Richard Feynman put it, is “the joy of finding things out.” Engineers, in contrast, are solution-driven. Their joy is making things work. The monolithic idea was an engineering solution. It worked around the tyranny of numbers by reducing the numbers to one: a complete circuit would consist of just one part—a single (“monolithic”) block of semiconductor material containing all the components and all the interconnections of the most complex circuit designs. The tangible product of that idea, known to engineers as the monolithic integrated circuit and to the world at large as the semiconductor chip, has changed the world as fundamentally as did the telephone, the light bulb, and the horseless carriage. The integrated circuit is the heart of clocks, computers, cameras, and calculators, of pacemakers and Palm Pilots, of deep-space probes and deep-sea sensors, of toasters, typewriters, cell phones, and Internet servers. The National Academy of Sciences declared the integrated circuit the progenitor of the “Second Industrial Revolution.” The first Industrial Revolution enhanced man’s physical prowess and freed people from the drudgery of backbreaking manual labor; the revolution spawned by the chip enhances our intellectual prowess and frees people from the drudgery of mind-numbing computational labor. A British physicist, Sir Ieuan Madlock, Her Majesty’s Chief Science Advisor, called the integrated circuit “the most remarkable technology ever to hit mankind.” A California businessman, Jerry Sanders, founder of Advanced Micro Devices, Inc., offered a more pointed assessment: “Integrated circuits are the crude oil of the eighties.” All

Worse, tests emphasize exactly the wrong skills. They emphasize the memorization of massive amounts of facts that neurologically have a half-life of about 12 hours. They focus on short-term rewards through cramming to compensate for a failure in long-term development of value. It is no wonder we have financial meltdowns caused by successful students. We have to swallow a hard pill. The issue is not how do we make tests better? Or how can we have more or different types of tests? Or how do we arrange for more parts of a school program (such as a teacher’s worth) to be based on tests? The reality is, tests don’t work except as a blunt control-and-motivation mechanism for the classroom, the academic equivalent of MSG or sugar in processed food. In place of schools as testing centers, we have to begin imagining and setting up learning environments that involve no tests at all, that rely on real assessment and the creation of genuine value instead.

The men of the Red Pill who write about the ancient world would have their readers believe there is a straight line from antiquity to today, a continuity of male and female behavior...this illusion of continuity is actually an ideologically motivated strategy to resurrect ancient norms in the present day.

The literary critic Helen Vendler writes that “treating fictions as moral pep-pills or moral emetics is repugnant to anyone who realizes the complex psychological and moral motives of a work of art.

Self-improvement is no different; there is no magical pill that will give us intelligence or boost inner peace.