I am not very good at accepting compliments.
If someone says something kind, my instinct is to deflect, downplay, or redirect the spotlight. “Oh, it’s nothing.” “You’re just being nice.” “I still have so much to work on.” I smile, but inside I’m already negotiating the praise away.
Recently, though, I received a series of compliments that I have not been able to shake. Not because I disagree with them. Not because I think they are untrue. But because they were spoken so directly and so warmly that I couldn’t file them under “polite conversation.”
They said I have a lovable, trustworthy energy. That when I speak, people really listen. That there is credibility in my presence.
They said I am radiant. Full beam. Adorable when I am simply being myself.
They said they got “lost in the sauce” on my website, wandering from page to page because the content was so engaging.
One woman said my emails would be one of the only ones she would religiously open each week.
If you know me, you know what I did internally.
I questioned it.
I wondered if they were just being generous. I thought about what I could improve. I minimized. I tried to escape the weight of those words.
But here is what I am learning.
A compliment is not a performance review. It is not a final verdict. It is not an inflated evaluation of perfection.
It is a gift.
And when we refuse a gift, we are not being humble. We are being uncomfortable with being seen.
Why Is Accepting Compliments So Hard?
For many of us, especially women who have been raised to be capable, competent, and modest, compliments feel dangerous. They threaten the carefully managed identity of “just doing my job” or “just being helpful.”
We are comfortable serving.
We are comfortable producing.
We are comfortable improving.
We are less comfortable being admired.
When someone says, “You have a trustworthy energy,” what they are really saying is, “I feel safe with you.” That is not about achievement. That is about presence.
When someone says, “You are radiant,” they are not grading your performance. They are describing the light they perceive.
When someone says they get lost on your website, they are telling you your work matters. That your voice carries.
And when someone opens your emails every week, they are choosing you. In a world of noise and inbox clutter, that is no small thing.
Why We Need to Practice Receiving
There is something deeply connected between creativity and receiving.
If I cannot receive a compliment, I will eventually stop offering my fullest self. I will shrink, soften, or hedge my expression so that no one sees too much. I will play small to avoid the vulnerability of being affirmed.
But what if accepting a compliment is an act of stewardship?
If someone experiences my presence as trustworthy, that is something to honor, not dismiss.
If someone finds my writing engaging, that is feedback to lean into, not wave away.
If someone says I am lovable, that is not arrogance. That is relational truth reflected back to me.
The practice is simple, but not easy:
Instead of deflecting, say thank you.
Instead of minimizing, breathe.
Instead of correcting their perception, trust it.
You do not have to agree with every compliment to receive it. You only have to allow that it might be true.
What Compliments Reveal
The kind words shared with me were not about numbers, rankings, or analytics. They were about energy. Presence. Impact.
Lovable.
Trustworthy.
Radiant.
Captivating.
Worth opening.
These are not surface qualities. They are relational ones.
And perhaps that is why they are harder to accept.
We can quantify pageviews. We can track followers. We can measure engagement.
But how do you measure being “full beam”?
How do you analyze “trustworthy energy”?
You cannot. You can only embody it.
Remembering When Doubt Creeps In
There will be days when I wonder if anyone cares about what I share. Whether writing about Cabo or books or bourbon or gardens makes any difference at all.
On those days, I want to remember:
Someone felt safe listening to me.
Someone felt drawn to my presence.
Someone got lost in my words.
Someone opens my emails faithfully.
Those are not small things.
If you struggle with accepting compliments, you are not alone. But perhaps the work is not to become more confident in the loud, bold way we imagine.
Perhaps the work is quieter.
To let yourself be seen.
To let yourself be known.
To let yourself be loved.
And when someone offers you a warm, sincere compliment, to simply say:
“Thank you. That means more than you know.”
That is where I am practicing today.
Receiving Compliments with Curiosity
This year my word is Curiosity.
Not achievement.
Not perfection.
Not growth in the performative sense.
Curiosity.
And I am realizing that accepting compliments may be one of the most curious things I can do.
Instead of rejecting kind words, what if I got curious about them?
What if, instead of saying, “Oh no, that’s not really true,” I paused and wondered:
What are they seeing that I don’t see yet?
What part of me shows up so naturally that I’ve stopped noticing it?
What if this is a strength I’ve been underestimating?
Curiosity softens defensiveness.
It removes the pressure to agree or disagree. It allows me to explore instead of evaluate.
When someone says I have a trustworthy energy, curiosity asks:
“What behaviors or habits might be creating that experience for others?”
When someone says I am radiant when I am being myself, curiosity wonders:
“What does ‘being myself’ actually look like? Where do I hold back?”
When someone says they open my emails religiously, curiosity invites:
“What resonates most? Is it my storytelling? My vulnerability? My steadiness?”
Curiosity turns compliments into insight.
Instead of treating praise like something to bat away, I can treat it like information — data about how I am impacting the world around me.
And that feels aligned with the woman I am trying to become this year.
Curiosity does not inflate the ego.
It does not deny weakness.
It simply asks questions.
It keeps me open.
Maybe that is the deeper lesson here.
Accepting compliments is not about believing I am extraordinary. It is about being curious enough to consider that the light others see in me might be real — and worth tending.
If this is my year of Curiosity, then perhaps one of the bravest questions I can ask is:
What if the kind things people say about me are true?
And what might grow if I let them be?
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