Receiving compliments is a skill
Recently, my husband and I hosted a dinner at our house for a couple people who had never been there before.
As soon as they arrived, they started to comment on how nice they thought our home was. They asked for a tour, and as we walked from room to room, they kept saying things like, “Every detail is perfect!” and, “It’s so clean!” They were in awe at every turn.
It was so kind of them to say those things, especially because Spiros and I worked hard on our house. We spent two years renovating it from top to bottom, and we’re really proud of it. Our home means so much to us.
And yet, in the moment, I found myself unable to accept a single one of their sweet words. Instinctively, it seemed, I reacted to each comment by downplaying it. It was almost like I was looking for ways to counter what they were saying.
When they complimented the look of the house, I said, “Oh, you should’ve seen it before we remodeled it. It needed so much work.” When they remarked on how clean everything was, I said, “That’s only because we're so lucky to have someone who helps us, and it would never be clean if it weren't for her.” (While it’s true that we have help, Spiros and I are pretty clean ourselves.)
For every compliment they gave, I said something to negate it. And the longer this went on, the more uncomfortable I felt about the way I was responding to them—and I’m sure they felt the same way.
At our next session, I brought this up with my therapist. (If you’ve been here awhile, I’m sure you knew that was coming!)
“Why did their compliments make me so uncomfortable?” I asked her. “Why couldn’t I just say ‘thank you’ and move on?”
My therapist pointed out that deflecting and downplaying compliments is a type of social survival strategy. What I was probably trying to do was remain relatable to our guests so that I could build a connection with them.
She and I spent some time exploring why I may have developed this as a survival strategy in the first place. What we found is that it’s rooted in fear: Somewhere along the way, I started to be afraid that if I accepted someone’s compliment that my house is nice, for example, that might create a barrier between us. Maybe that would mean that my house is actually nicer than theirs, and now, we can no longer relate on that level. It disrupts our ability to connect.
It’s not just at home; I do this in other situations, too. I find that when I meet new people who know nothing about me, I don't talk much about what I do for work. I’ll sketch out the big picture—“I’m a speaker, and I work in leadership development”—but I don't go into the details unless I’m asked.
This happened recently at a friend's dinner. There were a few new people there, and somehow, my friend who had invited me started talking about what I do for work and said that I speak to thousands of people at events. Someone who didn’t know me said something like, “Wow! That’s so amazing!”
Immediately, I downplayed it. I responded with something like, “Oh, well, there are people who speak to way bigger audiences than I do.”
I don’t just deflect when it comes to me. Whenever people ask what my husband, Spiros, does, I have trouble saying that he's a neurosurgeon. Usually, I just keep it vague and say he works in healthcare.
When I thought back to where this behavior might come from, one of the things that came up is how I felt back in the early days of Student Maid.
Starting a business at 19 did not make me feel relatable. Back then, a lot of my friends were still trying to find their path in life, and here I was, running a successful business while I was still in college. Guys I dated at the time would often share that they felt intimidated by my success and ambition. Eventually, all that negative reinforcement taught me to hide those parts of myself.
But the sad part is that doing that left me feeling pretty unseen in some of my relationships, friendships and otherwise.
My therapist helped me see that I was coming from a good place: I wanted to stay in connection with people. I didn’t want them to feel like there were any barriers between us or that I thought I was better than them in any way.
To help me see what this feels like from the other side, my therapist gave me an example from her own life. She said there's this house in her neighborhood that she's always admired and loved, and she told herself that if she ever had the chance to meet the owner of that house, she would tell them.
This last Halloween, she was taking her kids trick-or-treating, and lo and behold, the owner of the home was standing outside on the sidewalk. My therapist walked over and told her how nice she thought her house was and how she always stops to look at it when she walks by. The woman said, “Thank you so much. My husband and I worked really hard on it.”
My therapist said she left that interaction thinking about how cool it was of this woman to own her compliment like that. In her eyes, it was a really positive interaction, and everyone left feeling good.
After she shared that with me, we talked about how a compliment is a gift. In her example, my therapist couldn't wait to tell this woman how she felt about her house. Most often, people’s compliments come from an authentic place, like hers did: They had a kind thought about you, and they want to share it with you.
When you don't appear interested in receiving their gift, she said, that can feel hard for the giver. At first, they might try to say their compliment in a different way to make sure you’re hearing them, which is maybe what was happening with the guests who kept trying to compliment me on our home.
My therapist asked me to imagine what the interaction might have been like if the owner of the home she loved had downplayed her compliment. What we decided is that it probably wouldn't have been great: She would have left that interaction feeling bummed that the woman didn't receive the gift she was trying to give her.
Another aspect of this, she shared, is when something is obvious to the giver but the receiver deflects or doesn’t receive it, it feels inauthentic and disingenuous.
Say you meet a billionaire, she said, and it’s a well-known fact that they're a billionaire. If they said something like, “Oh, I don’t really have any money,” that would feel so disingenuous, right? Or if someone who obviously cares about fashion and has great style responds to a compliment on their outfit by saying, “This old thing? It’s garbage!” You both know they don’t believe that, so it feels inauthentic for them to say it.
I think we do this sometimes because as humans, we're taught to be humble. Receiving a compliment can make you feel like you’re standing out, which we can think of as a negative thing—the opposite of being humble. But most often, when someone gives you a compliment, they're not giving you a test on your humility; they're trying to give you a gift. And that is not the same thing as tooting your own horn. Had those people come over to my house and all I said to them was, “Look at my beautiful house! Don't you just love it? Isn't it perfect?” that would’ve been very different.
If you want to stay in connection with people, my therapist told me, the challenge is to learn how to receive their gifts.
As these things sometimes go, I've actually learned this lesson before, specifically when it comes to my speaking work. It used to be that people would come up to me after a speech to tell me how well they thought I did and how much they liked what I said, and every time, I would deflect. I’d say things like, “Then I must be the only speaker you've ever seen!” or, “I'll give you your $20 later for saying that!”
When I did that, I could just tell that people left the interaction feeling awkward—and I did, too. I didn't want to act ungrateful or disingenuous, but it goes back to the whole being humble thing: I was taught to be humble. I don’t want to appear all, look at me! Look what I can do!
But once, after I brushed away their compliment on my speech, someone told me that it felt like trying to give someone a present that they're refusing to open—and that totally changed how I looked at it. Ever since then, when someone compliments my speaking, I’m so intentional about saying thank you. I make it a point to look them in the eye and say, “I really appreciate you saying that. It means so much to me,” or, “I worked really hard to prepare, so that means a lot.” Or even, “It makes me so happy to know that my words impacted you that way.”
Every time I do that, I can see how me receiving their gift makes them light up. I can see that they feel heard and understood and that they feel good that they got to give me their gift. And I feel great, too: Not only do I appreciate their kind words, but they make me feel seen, too.
So, of course, I realized that the challenge I brought to my therapist is the same thing. It's just that I need to remember to bring that lesson from speaking to other areas of my life.
My therapist ended our session with a challenge: Receive compliments and own the things I'm proud of and that I've worked hard for. And to do the same for those close to me: In her words, it's badass that Spiros is a neurosurgeon—and I agree!
The next time, I will make it a point to thank people when they compliment me on our home. Spiros and I put a ton of our heart, money, time, and hard work into it, and we’re very proud of it. Why shouldn’t I say thank you?
I’ve been working on my “receiving” skills ever since, and I’m happy to report that I’m getting better. If you’ve been working on them, too, I hope this post speaks to you.
Now, I would love to hear from you: How often do you deflect compliments? What do you feel the need to minimize in yourself or your accomplishments to stay relatable to others? Where might your humility actually be blocking connection? What could it look like if you received a compliment as a gift instead of as a test of your humility?
I want to give you the same challenge my therapist gave me: The next time someone offers you a compliment, receive it as the gift that it is. Look them in the eyes, take it authentically and genuinely, and see how that makes you both feel. I bet it will feel so good!
Big hugs,
