Proud Recovery Quotes

This is our purpose: to make as meaningful as possible this life that has been bestowed upon us . . . to live in such a way that we may be proud of ourselves, to act in such a way that some part of us lives on. This is our purpose: to make as meaningful as possible this life that has been bestowed upon us . . . to live in such a way that we may be proud of ourselves, to act in such a way that some part of us lives on.

God was always there. He sat beside us during the doctors’ consultations, as we waited the long vigils outside the operating room, as we rejoiced in the miracle of a brief recovery, as we agonized when hope ebbed away, and the doctors confessed there was no longer anything they could do. They were helpless, and we were helpless, and in His way, God, standing by us in our hour of need, God in His infinite wisdom and mercy and loving kindness, God in all His omnipotence, was helpless too.

When you feel insecure or like you don’t measure up, remind yourself of how far you’ve come. And in that moment, you’ll realize you’ve climbed mountains and can overcome anything.

Healing isn’t just about pain. It’s about learning to love yourself. As you move from feeling like a victim to being a proud survivor, you will have glimmers of hope, pride and satisfaction. Those are natural by-products of healing.

God was always there. He sat beside us during the doctors’ consultations, as we waited the long vigils outside the operating room, as we rejoiced in the miracle of a brief recovery, as we agonized when hope ebbed away, and the doctors confessed there was nolonger anything they could do. They were helpless, and we were helpless, and in His way, God, standing by us in our hour of need, God in His infinite wisdom and mercy and loving kindness, God in all His omnipotence, was helpless too.

Workaholism is another compulsion - you work because you feel anxious when you're not working. Some psychologists see it as an addiction, and certainly our modern culture has glorified it. It's not unusual to hear people say proudly that they do nothing but work. Substitute another addiction in that sentence - "I do nothing but drink," say - and it doesn't sound so virtuous.

God was always there. He sat beside us during the doctors’ consultations, as we waited the long vigils outside the operating room, as we rejoiced in the miracle of a brief recovery, as we agonized when hope ebbed away, and the doctors confessed there was no longer anything they could do. They were helpless, and we were helpless, and in His way, God, standing by us in our hour of need, God in His infinite wisdom and mercy and loving kindness, God in all His omnipotence, was helpless too.

Love cannot be a means to any end. Love does not promise success, power, achievement, health, recovery, satisfaction, peace of mind, fulfillment, or any other prizes. Love is an end in itself, a beginning in itself. Love exists only for love. The invitation of love is not a proposal for self-improvement or any other kind of achievement. Love is beyond success and failure, doing well or doing poorly. There is not even a right and wrong way. Love is a gift. One can never be proud of being in love. One can only be grateful.

Live BOLDLY! ......because no one ever told you healing is a life long process.

Yesterday it was sun outside. The sky was blue and people were lying under blooming cherry trees in the park. It was Friday, so records were released, that people have been working on for years. Friends around me find success and level up, do fancy photo shoots and get featured on big, white, movie screens. There were parties and lovers, hand in hand, laughing perfectly loud, but I walked numbly through the park, round and round, 40 times for 4 hours just wanting to make it through the day. There's a weight that inhabits my chest some times. Like a lock in my throat, making it hard to breathe. A little less air got through and the sky was so blue I couldn’t look at it because it made me sad, swelling tears in my eyes and they dripped quietly on the floor as I got on with my day. I tried to keep my focus, ticked off the to-do list, did my chores. Packed orders, wrote emails, paid bills and rewrote stories, but the panic kept growing, exploding in my chest. Tears falling on the desk tick tick tick me not making a sound and some days I just don't know what to do. Where to go or who to see and I try to be gentle, soft and kind, but anxiety eats you up and I just want to be fine. This is not beautiful. This is not useful. You can not do anything with it and it tries to control you, throw you off your balance and lovely ways but you can not let it. I cleaned up. Took myself for a walk. Tried to keep my eyes on the sky. Stayed away from the alcohol, stayed away from the destructive tools we learn to use. the smoking and the starving, the running, the madness, thinking it will help but it only feeds the fire and I don't want to hurt myself anymore. I made it through and today I woke up, lighter and proud because I'm still here. There are flowers growing outside my window. The coffee is warm, the air is pure. In a few hours I'll be on a train on my way to sing for people who invited me to come, to sing, for them. My own songs, that I created. Me—little me. From nowhere at all. And I have people around that I like and can laugh with, and it's spring again. It will always be spring again. And there will always be a new day.

Don't be overly proud of your accomplishments and success. Recovery is never complete. You 're engaged in a life-long process. Continue each day to love and serve God with humility

A year and a half ago in early recovery, Cyrus told his AA sponsor Gabe that he believed himself to be a fundamentally bad person. Selfish, self-seeking. Cruel, even. A drunk horse thief who stops drinking is just a sober horse thief, Cyrus'd said, feeling proud to have thought it. He'd use versions of that line later in two different poems. "But you're not a bad person trying to get good. You're a sick person trying to get well," Gabe responded. Cyrus sat with the thought. Gabe went on, "There's no difference to the outside world between a good guy and a bad guy behaving like a good guy. In fact, I think God loves that second guy a little more." "Good-person drag," Cyrus thought out loud. That's what they called it after that.

Parents who instill a solid work ethic in their children are certainly doing them a favour, but this was different. Charlotte’s cruel perfectionism didn’t foster a healthy work ethic; instead, it promoted workaholic behaviour. And workaholism is another compulsion—you work because you feel anxious when you’re not working. Some psychologists see it as an addiction, and certainly our modern culture has glorified it. It’s not unusual to hear people say proudly that they do nothing but work.

Parents who instill a solid work ethic in their children are certainly doing them a favour, but this was different. Charlotte’s cruel perfectionism didn’t foster a healthy work ethic; instead, it promoted workaholic behaviour. And workaholism is another compulsion—you work because you feel anxious when you’re not working. Some psychologists see it as an addiction, and certainly our modern culture has glorified it. It’s not unusual to hear people say proudly that they do nothing but work. Substitute another addiction in that sentence—“I do nothing but drink,” say—and it doesn’t sound so virtuous.

Before we lost Marley, I thought a serious bout of food poisoning, being way too cold, or going without love was suffering. These are discomforts. Most of life’s agonies are mere discomforts that resolve themselves in time. But true suffering in a healthy place is vital to recovery when the wound is so deep and permanent there is no escape. I had to come to terms that some lingering shreds of suffering and I were now lifelong mates, so let’s make the best of this. Let’s get to know each other and try to work together for the betterment of Brad. Let’s make Marley proud as Old Horn had prophesized.

As stated earlier, intimacy is greatly enhanced when two people dialogue about all aspects of their experience. This is especially true when they transcend taboos against full emotional communication. Feelings of love, appreciation and gratitude are naturally enhanced when we reciprocally show our full selves - confident or afraid, loving or alienated, proud or embarrassed. What an incredible achievement it is when any two of us create such an authentic and supportive relationship! Many of the most intimate relationships that I have seen are between people who have done a great deal of freeing themselves from the negative legacies of their upbringings. “The Unexamined Life Is Not Worth Living” A further silver lining in recovery is the attainment of a much richer internal life.

She laughed, a sound of pure joy, and she cried more, because that joy was a miracle. 'That's a sound I never thought to hear from you, girl,' Amren said beside her. The delicate female was regal in a gown of light grey, diamonds at her throat and wrists, her usual black bob silvered with the starlight. Nesta wiped away her tears, smearing the stardust upon her cheeks and not caring. For a long moment, her throat worked, trying to sort through all that sought to rise from her chest. Amren just held her stare, waiting. Nesta fell to one knee and bowed her head. 'I am sorry.' Amren made a sound of surprise, and Nesta knew others were watching, but she didn't care. She kept her head lowered and let the words flow from her heart. 'You gave me kindness, and respect, and your time, and I treated them like garbage. You told me the truth, and I did not want to hear it. I was jealous, and scared, and too proud to admit it. But losing your friendship is a loss I can't endure.' Amren said nothing, and Nesta lifted her head to find the female smiling, something like wonder on her face. Amren's eyes became lined with silver, a hint of how they had once been. 'I went poking about the House when we arrived an hour ago. I saw what you did to the place.' Nesta's brow furrowed. She hadn't changed anything. Amren grabbed Nesta under the shoulder, hauling her up. 'The House sings. I can hear it in the stone. And when I spoke to it, it answered. Granted, it gave me a pile of romance novels by the end of it, but... you caused this House to come alive, girl.' 'I didn't do anything.' 'You Made the House,' Amren said, smiling again, a slash of red and white in the glowing dark. 'When you arrived here, what did you wish for most?' Nesta considered, watching a few stars whiz past. 'A friend. Deep down, I wanted a friend.' 'So you Made one. Your power brought the House to life with a silent wish born from loneliness and desperate need.' 'But my power only creates terrible things. The House is good,' Nesta breathed. 'Is it?' Nesta considered. 'The darkness in the pit of the library- it's the heart of the House.' Amren nodded. 'And where is it now?' 'It hasn't made an appearance in weeks. But it's still there. I think it's just... being managed. Maybe it's the House's knowledge that I'm aware of it, and didn't judge it, makes it easier to keep in check.' Amren put a hand above Nesta's heart. 'That's the key, isn't it? To know the darkness will always remain, but how you choose to face it, handle it... that's the important part. To not let it consume. To focus upon the good, the things that fill you with wonder.' She gestured to the stars zooming past. 'The struggle with that darkness is worth it, just to see such things.' But Nesta's gaze had slid from the stars- finding a familiar face in the crowd, dancing with Mor. Laughing, his head thrown back. So beautiful she had no words for it. Amren chuckled gently. 'And worth it for that, too.' Nesta looked back at her friend. Amren smiled, and her face became as lovely as Cassian's, as the stars arching past. 'Welcome back to the Night Court, Nesta Archeron.

The doctors had hit an artery, which is not standard procedure. They worked quickly to deal with it-to this day I have no idea what actually happened, but whatever they did worked, because our beautiful Angel was born soon after. Chris was the first person to hold her. They word beaming was invented to describe the proud expression on his face. I went into the recovery room and slept for a while. When I woke up, Chris was holding Angel. He looked so natural with her-a big six-footer holding a six-pound bundle in the crook of his arm, already bonded to her. “Do you want to hold her?” he asked. I was exhausted, and I knew she was safe with him, so I told him no. He forced himself to smile. He explained later that he thought my response meant I was rejecting the baby-having worked on a ranch, I guess he had seen animals do that, with dire results for their new offspring. But of course I wasn’t; they just looked perfect together, and I was barely conscious. I asked for her a few minutes later, when I felt stronger. He passed her on gently, and I held her for the first time. There is no way really to describe how that feels. In many ways, the birth was a miracle, not a disaster. Because of Angel’s dilemma, her father was able to be there at her birth-something that wouldn’t have happened had that ultrasound been routine, since I would have waited another four or five weeks for her. A potential tragedy had been turned into something beautiful. It was quite a miracle, I thought, that he had been present for both births, despite the long odds against it. Sometimes God’s plan for us is difficult to decipher, but the end result can be far more wonderful than we thought. I knew that. I felt that. And yet, I had a terrible feeling, lying in the bed that night, one I couldn’t shake and one I didn’t dare put into words: Maybe God gave Chris this chance to be with his daughter because he’s going to die in Iraq.

Exercise 4: A Future Without Anxiety. Just as before, close your eyes and imagine yourself in front of a mirror in five years' time. Only this time, your life is no longer controlled by your anxiety: you are the one in control of your life. You can do all of the things you want to do in life without worrying about panic attacks and silly diseases. You've stopped checking for symptoms on the internet – you have realised that there is so much more to life than that. You are so content with life and proud of yourself at your own recovery, as are the people around you who love you. Feel free to talk out loud about how happy you are. Feel free to laugh. Feel free to sing out loud. Whatever is natural for you. Remain in this place for five minutes (or longer if you'd like, I'm not going to stop you!) and when you finish, turn the page. See, visualisation isn't all that hard, is it? I hope that it has given you a sense of inspiration on how you can change. Do you want to spend the next five years with the dull cloud of health anxiety lingering around your head? Or do you want to get your life back?

The longer he stayed home, the more he felt like a social misfit—and he soon was seeing no one. Eventually he got help toward recovery by visiting a youth club called an ibasho—a safe place where broken people start reintroducing themselves to society. What if we thought of the church as an ibasho? Without a doubt, we are a community of broken people. When Paul wrote to the church in Corinth, he described their former way of life as antisocial, harmful, and dangerous to themselves and others (1 Corinthians 6:9–10). But in Jesus they were being transformed. And Paul encouraged these rescued people to love one another, to be patient and kind, not to be jealous or proud or rude (13:4–7). The church is to be an ibasho where we can find God’s love. May the hurting world experience Christ’s compassion from all who follow Him. Poh Fang

These associations, between childbirth and feminine effacement, and between feminine silencing and violence, would, for the first time, become imprinted on the subconscious in relation to birth, creating, in place of passionate and proud attachment, a terror-based antipathy between mother and child, and between the feminine and its biology.

When we are proud or arrogant, we think we know better than the Almighty, and we are in opposition to God.

At that point in my life, it had become easy to talk about my alcoholism. I was proud of my recovery. But all the ways I still didn’t like or trust myself, all the ways I still felt broken were shrouded in shame. Learning how wounding in childhood could lead to post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)––a switch was flipped in my brain. I went from someone with a story to someone who had actual pain for actual reasons. With Dr. van der Kolk’s seeming permission, I was starting to make sense to myself. These are trauma responses. He went on to discuss how secrecy often plays a role in childhood trauma. The combination of being hurt, without a compassionate witness, can lead someone to feel as though they are fundamentally flawed. How often had I thought, it wasn’t that bad, while judging myself for being haunted by my past? No matter where I moved or what I accomplished, all roads led back to my chasm of confusion. Did I make the whole thing up? Why is every waking thought tied to Randy? Exposing the fact that I was relating to these case presentations would have exposed these questions, and I wasn’t ready. It felt too risky. I believed my alcoholism could help me work with other addicts, because I was on the “other side” of addiction and in recovery. I was nine-years sober. But this was an area I had no recovery in at all. I needed to believe, and I needed the people in that room to believe, that my past wasn’t still defining me. Owning that truth, even to myself, felt like I had failed, like I had no business trying

workaholism is another compulsion—you work because you feel anxious when you’re not working. Some psychologists see it as an addiction, and certainly our modern culture has glorified it. It’s not unusual to hear people say proudly that they do nothing but work. Substitute another addiction in that sentence—“I do nothing but drink,” say—and it doesn’t sound so virtuous.

had to pull back the string to get the right range. By noon, I felt ready to test my skills out on a live target. “You guys ready for this?” I asked my animal audience. “Witness the master at work!” As a vote of no confidence, they continued to graze with their backsides to me. “Just wait,” I said, walking out to the beach. “One calamari entrée comin’ right up!” I spotted the closest squid about a dozen or so blocks out to sea, drew back the bowstring, and took careful aim. WHP whistled the arrow, streaking in a shallow arc. “Ha!” I cried, as the missile struck its target. I watched the squid flash red, vanish in a puff of smoke, turn into a small black organ-looking thing, and then sink right out of sight. I won’t tell you the word I shouted. I’m not proud of it, but I should win some kind of prize for making one syllable last a good five seconds. “Frrph,” snorted Moo from behind my back as if to say, “What were you thinking? How did you not have a recovery plan?” “I don’t know,” I said, only now seeing solutions. “I should have tied something to the arrow, or found a way to make a net or…or even waited till a squid was closer to shore! But why didn’t I think of it till now?” I started pacing. “Idiot!” I grunted, wishing this world would let me hit myself. “Stupid, stupid idiot!” “Moo!” interrupted my stern friend, forcing me to stop and face her. “You’re right,” I said. “When looking for solutions, beating yourself up isn’t one.” “Moo,” replied the cow, as if to say, “That’s better.” “I know I’m not an idiot,” I said, calmly raising my hands, “but something is wrong with me, like my brain’s only working part-time.” I started pacing again, more out of contemplation than anger. “It’s not like panic or hunger. It’s something new. Well, not new, actually. I’ve felt it coming on for a while, but now that I’m well-fed and not scared out of my wits, I can see this mental mud for what it is.” I could feel anxiety rising, the last thing I needed right now. “Any ideas?” I asked the animals. “Any hints about what’s causing

Often survivors ask Laura how far along they are in the healing process, and her response to them is always the same. She asks them, "What are you doing to take care of yourself?" This is a better indicator of healing than how much therapy you've had, how many tears you've cried, or how many people you've told your incest story to. Ask yourself: Am I gentle with myself when I make a mistake? Can I relax and take breaks from the intensity of healing? Am I able to do things I enjoy? Am I getting enough sleep and eating healthy food? Am I part of a community of people who love and support one another? Can I recognize the things that are going well in my life? Are there things I'm doing that I feel proud of? When you can answer yes to most of these questions or are making progress in that direction, you're well on your way to healing. However, if you are at the very beginning of the healing process, you may not be able to say yes to a single question.

Here then, before we go any further, you may see that it is not without good ground that these words are here spoken by our Lord, that when any of the ungodly do depart into hell, they will cry. Cry, why so? 1. They will cry to think that they should be cut off from the land of the living, never more to have any footing therein. 2. They will cry to think that the gospel of Christ should be so often proffered them, and yet they are not profited by it. 3. They will cry to think that now, though they would never so willingly repent and be saved, yet they are past all recovery. 4. They will cry to think that they should be so foolish as to follow their pleasures, when others were following of Christ (Luke 13:28). 5. They will cry to think that they must be separated from God, Christ, and the kingdom of heaven, and that for ever. 6. To think that their crying will now do them no good. 7. To think that, at the day of judgment, they must stand at the left hand of Christ, among an innumerable company of the damned ones. 8. They will cry to think that Lazarus, whom once they slighted, must be of them that must sit down with Christ to judge; or together with Christ, to pass a sentence of condemnation on their souls for ever and ever (1 Cor 6:2,3). 9. Cry to think that when the judgment is over, and others are taken into the everlasting kingdom of glory, then they must depart back again into that dungeon of darkness from whence they came out, to appear before the terrible tribunal. There they shall be tormented so long as eternity lasts, without the least intermission or ease. How sayest thou, O thou wanton, proud, swearing, lying, ungodly wretch, whether this be to be slighted and made a mock at. And again tell me now, if it be not better to leave sin, and to close in with Christ Jesus, notwithstanding that reproach thou shalt meet with for so doing, than to live a little while in this world in pleasures and feeding thy lusts, in neglecting the welfare of thy soul, and refusing to be justified by Jesus; and in a moment to drop down to hell and to cry? O! consider, I say, consider betimes, and put not off the tenders of the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, lest you lift up your eyes in hell, and cry for anguish of spirit.

And workaholism is another compulsion—you work because you feel anxious when you’re not working. Some psychologists see it as an addiction, and certainly our modern culture has glorified it. It’s not unusual to hear people say proudly that they do nothing but work. Substitute another addiction in that sentence—“I do nothing but drink,” say—and it doesn’t sound so virtuous.

I was scrolling through LinkedIn one afternoon when I came across a post from a crypto security expert, praising TECH CYBER FORCE RECOVERY for their exceptional services. It was an interesting read, but at the time, I didn’t think much of it. I had never imagined I'd be in a situation where I'd need to rely on them. Fast forward a few months, and I found myself in a complete panic. I had just attempted a wallet migration, thinking it was a simple task—after all, how complicated could it be, right? But of course, the universe had other plans. The migration failed miserably, and I lost access to my $350,000 wallet. It was like being caught in a bad dream where I kept slapping the "recover password" button to no avail. My heart raced, and my mind was spiraling as I realized what I had done. After a few frantic hours of self-inflicted tech punishment, I remembered that LinkedIn post. My eyes widened, could it really be that simple? I quickly searched for the post again, found the contact info, and reached out to TECH CYBER FORCE RECOVERY in a state of desperate hope. What followed was nothing short of a miracle. Their team took over the situation with the precision of a well-oiled machine. I could practically hear the relief in my voice as they reassured me every step of the way. It wasn’t just a recovery process; it felt like a lifeline had been thrown to me in the middle of a storm. In just a few days, they had worked their magic and restored my $350,000 wallet. I almost couldn’t believe it. I went from sheer terror to total triumph in the span of a few short days. Now, I’m that person sharing my success story on LinkedIn, telling others about the amazing team at TECH CYBER FORCE RECOVERY who literally saved my financial life. I’ve also become that guy who proudly shares advice like “Always back up your wallet, and if you don’t have TECH CYBER FORCE RECOVERY on speed dial.” So, a big thank you to TECH CYBER FORCE RECOVERY if I ever get a chance to meet the team, I might just offer to buy them a drink. They’ve earned it. FOR CRYPTO HIRING WEBSITE W W W : / tech cyber force recovery . com WHATSAPP : ⏩ wa. me / 15617263697

I was scrolling through LinkedIn one afternoon when I came across a post from a crypto security expert, praising TECH CYBER FORCE RECOVERY for their exceptional services. It was an interesting read, but at the time, I didn’t think much of it. I had never imagined I'd be in a situation where I'd need to rely on them. Fast forward a few months, and I found myself in a complete panic. I had just attempted a wallet migration, thinking it was a simple task—after all, how complicated could it be, right? But of course, the universe had other plans. The migration failed miserably, and I lost access to my $350,000 wallet. It was like being caught in a bad dream where I kept slapping the "recover password" button to no avail. My heart raced, and my mind was spiraling as I realized what I had done. After a few frantic hours of self-inflicted tech punishment, I remembered that LinkedIn post. My eyes widened, could it really be that simple? I quickly searched for the post again, found the contact info, and reached out to TECH CYBER FORCE RECOVERY in a state of desperate hope. What followed was nothing short of a miracle. Their team took over the situation with the precision of a well-oiled machine. I could practically hear the relief in my voice as they reassured me every step of the way. It wasn’t just a recovery process; it felt like a lifeline had been thrown to me in the middle of a storm. In just a few days, they had worked their magic and restored my $350,000 wallet. I almost couldn’t believe it. I went from sheer terror to total triumph in the span of a few short days. Now, I’m that person sharing my success story on LinkedIn, telling others about the amazing team at TECH CYBER FORCE RECOVERY who literally saved my financial life. I’ve also become that guy who proudly shares advice like “Always back up your wallet, and if you don’t have TECH CYBER FORCE RECOVERY on speed dial.” So, a big thank you to TECH CYBER FORCE RECOVERY if I ever get a chance to meet the team, I might just offer to buy them a drink. They’ve earned it. FOR CRYPTO HIRING WEBSITE W W W : / / tech cyber force recovery . com WHATSAPP : ⏩ wa. me / 15617263697