I got a compliment on a normal day, in a normal moment, and it still made my brain glitch like someone had handed me a fragile object with no instructions. It was just a simple, sincere “You’re really good at this,” said casually, like it was obvious.

And I did not know where to put it. I stood there smiling while my internal thoughts did a full sprint, because part of me wanted to accept it and feel warm, and part of me wanted to swat it away as quickly as possible. 

I felt the impulse to say something like, “Oh, it was nothing,” or “I just got lucky,” or “You’re being nice,” which is basically my reflex when someone says something kind about me, because I am weirdly more comfortable admitting mistakes than admitting strengths.

Receive good things without arguing, because arguing with kindness is still a form of rejection, and you deserve to let good things land.

The Exact Compliment That Made Me Freeze

It happened while I was talking about one of my projects, the kind of project that didn’t go perfectly but turned out cute anyway, because that’s my whole personality in a sentence. 

I was explaining how I’d made it, casually tossing in the “oops” parts like I always do, because mistakes are my comfort zone and also my brand, and the person listening looked at me and said, “I love how you do that, you make it feel easy, and you always finish.”

The word that hit me was “finish,” because I’ve spent so much of my life assuming I’m a chaotic starter, not a finisher. Hearing someone else describe me as someone who finishes felt like a compliment and a challenge at the same time. 

I smiled, and my brain immediately tried to correct the record, and I felt the urge to say, “Well, not always,” like I needed to protect the person from thinking too highly of me. That is when I realized the compliment wasn’t the hard part, my relationship with receiving was the hard part.

Why Compliments Can Feel Like Pressure Instead of Kindness

I think compliments can feel uncomfortable because they shine a light on you, and if you’re used to staying in the safe zone of being self-deprecating, that light can feel exposed. 

A compliment can also feel like a claim you now have to live up to, like if someone says you’re good at something, you can never be messy again, but brains can be dramatic.

For me, compliments sometimes trigger the fear of disappointing people, because I start thinking, “What if they think I’m great and then I mess up”. Since messing up is inevitable, my brain tries to prevent the future disappointment by downplaying the compliment in the present. 

The message matters here because receiving good things isn’t arrogance, it’s openness, and openness is the only way kindness actually nourishes you.

The Tiny Response That Changed the Whole Moment

Instead of launching into my usual “no, no, no,” I said, “Thank you,” and then I stopped talking. That was it.

No explanation, no joke, no counter-compliment as a distraction, no story about why I didn’t deserve it, just a clean thank you. It felt strange, like leaving a room without picking up your bag, but the strange feeling was also a sign that I had done something new.

Then, because I’m still me, I felt the urge to fill the silence, and I had to resist it, because silence is where the compliment gets to land. If you rush to fill the silence, the compliment bounces off, and you go home still feeling empty even though someone tried to give you something kind.

This is where the message carried through the moment: receiving good things without arguing is a practice, and you get better by doing it in small, awkward increments.

The Message, Woven Through the Whole Story

Receive good things without arguing. Not because you need to become confident overnight, and not because you need to pretend you’re perfect, but because kindness is one of the only things that actually makes life feel lighter.

Receiving is not bragging, receiving is letting someone’s goodness reach you, and it’s also letting your own effort be seen without immediately shrinking it. You can accept a compliment and still be humble.

The compliment didn’t need me to prove it, it didn’t need me to earn it harder, it didn’t need me to justify it, it just needed me to let it be true for one moment.

I thought the only safe response to a compliment was to minimize it, and I’m learning that the safer response is simply to receive it.

A Few Ways to Practice Receiving Without It Feeling Fake

I’ve been trying to treat receiving like a skill, not a personality trait, because skills can be practiced even when you don’t feel ready.

If someone compliments you, you can say “Thank you” and stop, even if it feels awkward, because awkward doesn’t mean wrong. If your brain starts arguing later, you can gently remind yourself that you don’t have to counter every kind statement with a negative one. 

If you want to go one step further, you can add, “That means a lot,” because it acknowledges the kindness without turning it into a debate. None of this makes you arrogant, it just makes you open.

Your Turn

What’s a compliment you struggle to accept, even if you secretly want to believe it, because I have a feeling a lot of us are walking around with pockets full of kindness we never let ourselves keep.