Why are compliments making me uncomfortable

বিজ্ঞাপন

compliments making me uncomfortable

I’ve always thought it was strange how compliments made my chest tighten instead of swell.

When someone says I’m smart, capable, kind, or even just “good,” something inside me recoils. I force a smile, murmur a polite thank you, but underneath, I’m bracing for the moment they realize they’re wrong. It’s like I’m holding a fragile secret that I’m not actually any of those things and I’m terrified they’ll discover it.

It’s strange how something as simple as a compliment can make my whole body tense, how hearing “you’re good at that” or “you’re beautiful” makes me want to look away or change the subject as fast as I can.

It’s not that I believe I’m worthless. It’s more subtle than that. It’s a gnawing doubt, a whisper that says: “Maybe they’re only saying this to be nice.”

“Maybe they don’t really see me.” “Maybe if they did, they wouldn’t say it at all.”

I grew up learning how to stay small. I learned that attention could be dangerous, that it was safer to blend in than stand out. Praise often came with strings attached or expectations I couldn’t carry. Being noticed didn’t feel like being celebrated because it felt like being exposed.

Sometimes I wonder if there’s something wrong with me for feeling this way — why can’t I just accept the words and smile like everyone else seems to?

But maybe it’s because I grew up without hearing those things because praise and gentle words weren’t part of my world. I never learned how to let kindness settle into my bones without questioning it.

So now, when someone offers a kind word, it feels misplaced like they’ve sent a letter to the wrong address. Compliments land on me awkwardly, as if I don’t know where to put them. I nod, but I’m busy arguing in my head, listing the reasons they’re mistaken.

It’s exhausting, really, to live in this gap between how others see you and how you see yourself. It’s like standing on shaky ground, afraid that if you accept their words, the ground will crumble, and you’ll be left looking foolish for believing.

And maybe the worst part is realizing how much I crave to believe them, even while every part of me struggles to accept that such words could ever belong to me.

… I want to believe them.

I want to believe I am good, kind, and capable. I want to let compliments sink in without dissecting them until they lose all warmth. I want to rest on the idea that maybe I am enough not because someone says so, but because it’s true.

I’m learning slowly. Learning that it’s okay to accept kindness without suspicion. That not every gentle word hides a trap. Maybe the people who care about me aren’t wrong. Maybe I just haven’t learned how to see myself through their eyes yet.

Maybe the real work isn’t just hearing “you’re enough,” but letting myself finally believe it.

Source: Medium/shelvedhope

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