Albert Camus once said, “What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.” And Carl Jung said, “There is no coming to consciousness without pain.”

During the year of my depression, I would have replied, “Please shoot me then, because I never asked to be alert.”

But I do believe I’m a stronger person today than I was a year ago. I wouldn’t go so far as to thank God for my brain disease. (I’m not a moron.) But I have learned some coping skills that have come in handy not only in living with extreme moodiness and anxiety, but also in toilet training my daughter, being a loving wife with PMS, and respecting preschool administrators who feel that Easter deserves two weeks of vacation. (I love Jesus and I’m glad he’s risen, but come on!).

I thought about those perks the other day when I ran into my friend, Ellen, at the grocery store. Neither of us time to chat at length (as usual), but I did ask her about her daughter who had been hospitalized in October with depression.

“She’s good!” Ellen said. “In some ways, I’m glad she fell to pieces…because now she’s put together better.”

Recovery from very severe depression is similar to the metamorphosis, or chrysalis, of a caterpillar to a butterfly.

Only in struggling to emerge from a small hole in the cocoon does a butterfly get wings strong enough to fly. As she squeezes out of that tiny space, the liquids inside her body cavity are pushed into the tiny capillaries in the wings, where they harden. Should you try to help a butterfly by tearing open the cocoon, the poor thing won’t sprout wings. Or if she does, they won’t be strong enough to fly.

No struggle, no wings.

In general, I think I like myself a lot better today than I did prior to the breakdown. I rely less on my work or any type of accomplishment to provide me with self-esteem. I know that a Weblog award (for most excellent blog) would be totally cool to advertise on my website once I build it (in 2009?). But it won’t make me happy. I know that now.

And I guess I’m in less of a hurry (although you’d never suspect that if you ran into me) because I realize life is more about the journey than the destination.

Camus and Jung are mostly right, I think–butterflies are stronger than caterpillars. And more beautiful.