The whole concept of “That which does not kill us, makes us stronger” should be up for a discussion, my dear Nietzsche . No, what doesn’t kill us leaves us cracked. After it has passed, you’ll never be the same again, in one way or another. Fixing it may be as beautiful as it gets, all Kintsungi, golden lining on every corner. A crack is a crack nonetheless. After many, after years, it weakens and weakens, until one day, it all becomes a beautiful mess, a vase in pieces spilling its contents around.
There is some fascinating disturbance in repairing broken objects. How come we never try to repair broken people?