Pain, in its many forms, is one of life’s few certainties. It can come crashing in like a tidal wave or seep in quietly like a shadow. Yet, the way we respond to it – how we navigate the moments when it feels overwhelming – defines not just how we heal but also how we grow. For many, the instinct is to feel it sharply, move on quickly, and leave it behind. But in this rapid pursuit of relief, we risk losing the profound lessons pain often carries with it.

Pain is not just an unwelcome visitor. It is also a teacher, albeit a reluctant one. It forces us to stop, even for a moment, and acknowledge that something significant has occurred. But in a world that idolizes resilience as synonymous with speed – moving on quickly, bouncing back immediately – we risk conflating strength with avoidance. True strength is not in sidestepping discomfort but in letting ourselves sit with it just long enough to extract its wisdom.

What does sitting with pain look like?

It is not about wallowing or replaying the moment endlessly in our minds. Instead, it’s about creating space to let the experience breathe. It’s pausing to ask, “What is this trying to teach me?” and “What can I carry forward from this?” This isn’t an easy process. Pain makes us want to escape. But that very impulse, the urge to move on quickly, can sometimes cut short the chance to grow from the experience.

This concept finds parallels in leadership, business, and even personal growth. Think of a leader faced with failure – a lost client, a missed target, or a critical misstep. The immediate instinct might be damage control, a quick pivot, or burying the moment to protect morale. Yet, some of the most transformative leadership lessons come from pausing to examine the failure, unpacking it not just for answers but for insight. The same applies in life. Moving on quickly has its merits – after all, dwelling indefinitely is neither healthy nor productive – but the value lies in finding balance. Feel the sting, learn its lesson, and then take the steps forward with clarity rather than haste.

For those of us who pride ourselves on resilience, there’s often a quiet discomfort in admitting we need time to process. We might fear that acknowledging pain makes us look vulnerable or, worse, weak. But there’s profound humility in recognizing that moving forward doesn’t mean sprinting away from what hurts. It means walking toward a future shaped by what we’ve learned.

In many ways, this approach mirrors the Japanese philosophy of wabi-sabi, which finds beauty in imperfection and transience. Pain is messy and uncomfortable, but it’s also fleeting. When we embrace its impermanence, we allow ourselves to glean its wisdom without letting it define us. We acknowledge it fully and then release it intentionally – a far more meaningful process than simply leaving it behind.

This idea doesn’t just apply to individuals. Teams, businesses, and even nations encounter moments of collective pain – crises, setbacks, or profound challenges. Those who pause to reflect, to sit with discomfort, often emerge more innovative and resilient than those who rush to put the moment behind them. Leaders, whether of people or ideas, have the opportunity to model this balance: confronting pain with honesty while charting a deliberate path forward.

Ultimately, the art of embracing pain is not about indulgence; it’s about intentionality. By allowing ourselves to feel discomfort, even briefly, we align with a deeper truth: that growth is rarely comfortable but always worth the effort. Moving forward quickly isn’t inherently wrong, but doing so without acknowledging what’s left behind may leave us with unresolved fragments that resurface later.

So, the next time pain knocks on the door, perhaps the answer isn’t to rush past it but to greet it with curiosity. Sit with it long enough to understand its purpose, then move forward – not as if it never happened, but because you’ve taken what it had to offer. In that process lies the essence of resilience – not the absence of pain but the capacity to grow from it.

Pain is inevitable. Growth, however, is a choice. The courage to slow down, to listen, and to learn makes all the difference.