Proust isn't asking us to wallow or surrender to pain, but rather to stop the exhausting work of dodging it—which, paradoxically, keeps suffering alive in our bodies and minds. The counterintuitive part is that avoidance doesn't protect us; it crystallizes hurt into something permanent, whereas moving through the full weight of it allows transformation. A person grieving a lost friendship often finds that the moment they stop trying to "get over it" quickly and instead sit with the particular ache—the specific jokes they'll never share, the understanding that dies with that person—something shifts: the grief becomes bearable, even clarifying. Proust understood that healing isn't about erasing the wound but about letting yourself know its shape completely.