Caitlin Moran Quotes

When you're threatened, or something hard hits you, acknowledge it, embrace it. Don't pretend that you didn't get hurt - hurt, cry, think about it. And then you let it go and try something else.

Once you realise you're carrying around lots of pain, I think go to therapy so you release yourself. You don't want to be a problem bore, poor me.

Siblings tend not to care much about boundaries and borders. Having worn each others' T-shirts, it's unlikely that they'd go to war over a border.

If grief is to be mitigated, it must either wear itself out or be shared.

It's a blessing not to be alone in your grief but it's also painful to see your parents and siblings in pain.

A few weeks after the worst day, I started writing lots of letters. I don't know why, but it was one of the only things that made my boots lighter.

Grief was like a terrible burden, but at least you could lay it down by the side of the road and walk away from it. Antonia had come only a few paces, but already she could turn and look back and not weep. It wasn't anything to do with forgetting. It was just accepting. Nothing was ever so bad once you had accepted it.

When a great burden is lifted, the relief is not always felt at once. The galled places still ache.

And I ask him why he cuts his arms with a razor. "Just fo feel. Just to feel something.

Did you ever have a sister? did you?

The mind wants to forget because it weighs so much on the heart and soul. I am tired of crying and feeling so helpless. I want to breathe again -just for a little while.

Music is my drug, the one thing that makes me numb.

The family. We are a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms. . . and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together.

I've looked at the world for quite a few years now and I've found that if I don't laugh, I'll probably end up crying." - Prince Kheldar of Drasnia

I started dealing with my emotional pain by writing. I always had been a writer, but just not songs. Saying things on paper that I would never, ever say, and saying things to myself, admitting things to myself, about myself and my personality, just putting it on paper, is how I deal with emotional pain.

Spouses have each other, and even when one eventually dies, they have memories of a time when they existed before that other person and can more readily imagine a life without them. Likewise, parents may have other children to be concerned with--a future to protect for them. To lose a sibling is to lose the one person with whom one shares a lifelong bond that is meant to continue on into the future.

I think its a sickness to grieve too much for those who never cared a fig for you.

When you have to face up to the fact that marriage to the man you love is really over, that's very tough, sheer agony. In that kind of harrowing situation, I always go away and cut myself off from the world. Also, I sober up immediately when there is genuine bad news in my life; I never face it with alcohol in my brain. I just rented a house in Palm Springs and sat there and just suffered for a couple of weeks. I suffered there until I was strong enough to face it.

I could tell that Mom was dreaming, but I didn't want to know what she was dreaming about, because I had enough of my own nightmares, and if she had been dreaming something happy, I would have been angry at her for dreaming something happy.

that since Cecilia’s suicide, the Lisbon’s could hardly wait for the night to forget themselves in sleep

Some tears have to be cried no matter what the hour- until they are, they simply rave and burn inside.

I mean, her father was an alcoholic, and her mother was the suffering wife of a man who she could never predict what he would do, where he would be, who he would be. And it's sort of interesting because Eleanor Roosevelt never writes about her mother's agony. She only writes about her father's agony. But her whole life is dedicated to making it better for people in the kind of need and pain and anguish that her mother was in.

One open, one closed. It was no wonder that the first image that came to mind when I thought of either of my sisters was a door. With Kirsten, it was the front one to our house, through which she was always coming in or out, usually in mid-sentence, a gaggle of friends trailing behind her. Whitney’s was the one to her bedroom, which she preferred to keep shut between her and the rest of us, always.

So you're her brother? Says Linn. I guess we know who got the good genes.