Learned to live with it, more likely, would be my characterization.
I like to think of Paul’s “thorn in his flesh” as being a kind of template for all of us in this regard. Most of us have probably had the experience of how insufferable somebody (or we ourselves) can be after going through long stretches of success in our lives - relatively free of any serious suffering. And of course we are fond of probably over-attributing our good stretches to our own hard work, smart thinking, and of course - faithfulness and good character (not to mention our particular brilliance in choosing to be born into communities of affluence). That Divine blessing, the good will and work of others, nurturing parentage, or even just good ol’ luck (for those who prefer that language) may have had anything to do with it - that doesn’t excite our attentions quite so much. And suddenly we’re a ‘blow-hard’ who knows it all - whether in the context of faith, or just giving life advice. Many might be somewhat jealous of them - yes - but we generally are not admiring them for who they are at that moment. Everybody else around can usually see the heaping truckload of pride shining through, and we find it more repulsive than something to envy. They may indeed know a lot and be full of some pretty good advice. But would you want to grab a beer with them?
That’s probably the spirit of the Keillor quip that this world “needs more sinners than saints.”
That was probably more a ramble that tooks wide potshots all around your question rather than answering it. As somebody who tends to be full of answers myself - I would point people toward the Job discourses, and the psalmists. And by the time they’re done there, maybe more questions will have been raised than answered. But the sacred texts tend to do that to people.
Or to attempt to put that more clearly: the religious contemplative life is usually more about getting the questioner to “step back from” his question more than it is about giving it some direct answer.