On Receiving Compliments

An excerpt after spending an afternoon swatting at mosquitos in Switzerland

It's funny how many people swat away compliments like mosquitos. Little buzzing things that seem more pesty than kind. I've had clients spend thousands just to sit across from me, call me beautiful or brilliant or both and the moment I offer something kind, they deflect it like I've just thrown a rock. "You're only saying that because I'm paying you," or "No, I'm not, that’s not true" It's like even the softest moments require armor. (And for the record, no one pays me to say shit <3)

I've been around this pattern for years. Working in that blurry space between fantasy and connection, intimacy coaching, just life in general you start to notice how people show themselves. Not all at once, but in small, cautious pieces. And often, the second they feel seen nakedly seen, even for something good they pull back. I don't mean when someone brags or seeks attention. I mean those flickers of joy, effort, talent. The things that matter to them. Say something kind about that and suddenly you're Dracula and they're holding up a cross.

Some of my clients have told me they've trained themselves not to care what people think, good or bad. One said, "I'm immune to it all." Another told me compliments only land if they touch something he actually values.

"If someone says I look good, whatever. But if they notice my discipline? That hits different."

And that makes sense. We're all more sensitive where we've actually invested ourselves.But I wonder about that so-called immunity. Is it really freedom? Or is it just another layer of control, another way to avoid being affected?

Because being affected is vulnerable.

Is someone complimenting something you don't care really meaningless? Could it not still be a moment of warmth?Personally, just because I don’t value a certain trait in myself doesn’t mean no one else should. It doesn’t mean their appreciation is fake.

Even if it slides off me, maybe it landed on them. Maybe that matters too.

Letting something land, especially something nice, means dropping your guard. It’s like stepping into a light and letting yourself be seen. You have to stop rationalizing, stop minimizing, and just be there with it. I wonder: if your perception of self is built on staying in motion, on self-improvement or humility or keeping your edge, even a second of that can feel... like you might let them down? Or giving something up. Or that you don’t deserve it. But it's a false trade-off. Receiving doesn't make you arrogant. It makes you reachable.

What I've learned, in places where compliments flow as easily as water, is that the people who are most grounded the ones who feel really okay in themselves don't squirm when you say something kind. They don't puff up either. They just take it in. "Thanks," they say. "I see that in myself too." Or even, "That means something coming from you." It's not about fishing for more. It's not performative gratitude. It's just a soft moment of mutual recognition.

And that's what I think people miss: a compliment isn't just praise. It's a chance for intimacy. It's someone reaching toward you trying to connect and when you push it away, even politely, you miss that moment. You refuse something that was meant to reach you.

So next time someone says something kind about you, pause. Don't rush to brush it off or downplay it or make a joke. Just let it sit for a second. Let it land, even if it feels weird. Even if your brain wants to reject it. You don't have to agree. You don't have to repeat it back. But you can say, "Thanks. That's nice to hear." That's it. Nothing fancy. Just open the window a crack. Let the good stuff in too.