Can You Let a Compliment Land?

I have a confession. For a woman who has spent much of her life helping other women see what is beautiful and worthy in themselves, I can still find it surprisingly uncomfortable when someone turns that kindness toward me.

Over the years, I’ve noticed how difficult it can be to simply receive a compliment. To let someone say something lovely about me and allow it to stand, without feeling I need to explain it away or make it a little smaller.

It’s something I’m still working on as part of my own “I am enough” mindset makeover. Because apparently, believing I am enough and letting someone else notice are two things I’m learning to bring together.

Perhaps you know the feeling.

Someone tells you that you look lovely, and before her words have even settled, you’re telling her how old your dress is. She compliments your hair, and you point out that you desperately need an appointment. She tells you how beautifully you handled something, and you explain why it really wasn’t anything special.

A moment ago, she was offering you a kindness. Now you’re giving her reasons to reconsider. We don’t usually mean to do that. Often, we’re just trying to find somewhere to put the discomfort.

Many of us grew up knowing we weren’t supposed to brag, boast or think too highly of ourselves. We learned to be gracious and modest, but somewhere along the way, modesty became tangled up with making ourselves smaller. Acknowledging our strengths could feel suspiciously close to conceit. Enjoying how we looked might be mistaken for vanity.

I’ve heard echoes of that thinking throughout my years in fashion. Caring about clothes is frivolous. Taking time for yourself is indulgent. Feeling beautiful is all very well, as long as you don’t appear to know it.

No wonder a sincere compliment can leave us fumbling.

But accepting someone’s kind words doesn’t mean we’ve become full of ourselves. We can recognize something good in ourselves with warmth and quiet confidence. There is room for that.

When I brush aside a genuine compliment, I’ve started asking myself: am I being modest, or am I having trouble believing what she sees?

That question gives me something to think about.

A compliment is a small gift. Someone noticed something about you and chose to tell you. Perhaps it was the colour you were wearing, the way you made her feel welcome, your courage, your humour or your ability to make a complicated situation feel manageable.

You don’t have to agree with every word before you can receive the kindness behind it.

You can simply say, “Thank you.”

And let that be enough.

If you want to say a little more, “That means a lot to me” or “How lovely of you to say that” can feel natural. If she compliments something you’re wearing, you might say, “Thank you. I feel wonderful in it.”

For some women, a little humour makes receiving easier. “I thought you’d never notice!” said with a smile might be just their style. A cheerful “Right? I love it too!” can be delightful when it comes naturally.

You don’t need to become that woman if she isn’t you. There is no clever response required, no performance to master. You don’t owe a compliment in return, either. If you have something sincere to say, say it. But kindness doesn’t need to become an immediate exchange to be complete.

The practice is allowing yourself to stay in the moment without rushing to disqualify what she has offered.

And perhaps, later, being a little curious about it.

What did she notice that you tend to overlook? What strength have you been treating as ordinary simply because it comes naturally to you? What would happen if you allowed her words to count?

We can be so quick to hold on to criticism. I’d like to give kindness a little more room.

For me, “I am enough” is becoming something I practise in these small, everyday moments. Including the moment when someone sees something lovely in me and I resist the urge to talk her out of it.

Some days that comes more easily than others. I’m still learning.

So the next time someone offers you a genuine compliment, perhaps we can both try this: pause, smile and say thank you.

Then let her words stay.