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Quote by Emily Swisher

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Stable: A Therapist and the Healing Nature of Horses

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Emily Swisher

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“Let me tell you. Before anything, what you need to do next is talk to these people. Hear their story. Tell yours, and understand you're not the only one who tried to do something good, and ended up doing something horrible. You're not the only one who's been hurt so bad that the hurt becomes part of you, as much as you hate it, that the hurt is you. You're not the only one who was betrayed by a friend, who's had the person they thought they could trust forever end their life. You're not the only one who has felt the madness creep in. Who wants to turn away from it all and keeps turning toward it. You're not the only one who has done some terrible things who will now forever try to make up for that harm. You understand. Don't kill. Don't run. Do what I did. Talk. Listen. And know. As bad as it is, we're in it together.”

HealingMental HealthTraumaMental IllnessRecoveryPtsdMental WellnessMental Health RecoveryMental Illness Recovery
Book:Heroes in Crisis
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“Healing isn’t just about tending to old wounds; it’s about reclaiming the life that trauma and illness tried to steal. It’s about proving to myself, and to anyone who has ever felt stuck in survival mode, that we are more than what we’ve endured. I have walked through some of the darkest corners of this world, and I’m still here. And maybe—just maybe—that means I am meant to be the light.”

HealingTraumaTrauma Recovery
Book:Smoking in Garages: A Survivor's Story of Trauma and Resilience
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“پدرم. آخرین بار. هیکل تنومند، موهای رو به عقب، چشم های کم و بیش بسته. طرحی از شیوه ی سکوتش، خمیدگی پشتش، پاهای بازش، دست هایش و عینکش کشیدم. به پولور قهوه ای اش سایه زدم، به جوراب هایش که خال های آبی داشت چین دادم. کناره های صندلی دسته دارش، بالشچه ی پشمی اش، پرده ی پشت سرش و گل های مصنوعی پارچه ای را در گلدان بدون آب کشیدم.با مداد تندتند می کشیدم. هر چه را که هنوز به چشم می خورد، ضبط می کردم. چهره ی مردی ضعیف، تنها و سرگشته را سرسری ترسیم می کردم. نگاه به زیر افکنده اش را جستجو می کردم. دیگر هیچ چیز در وجودم خانه نداشت. نه خشمی. نه اندوهی. تنم از مشت هایش جان سالم به در برده بود . سرم صدمه ندیده بود.((دارالتادیب)) دیگر چیزی نبود جز یک قفسه ی چوبی.”

HealingChildhoodTraumaPainterFrench Literatureادبیات فرانسهآسیب روحیکودکیترمیمنقاش
Book:Profession du père
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