I received a compliment the other day.
So what? I hear you mutter as you roll your eyes. Why would something like that be noteworthy?
I don’t normally receive compliments. My less than stellar physical appearance combined with appalling self-esteem means I am typically unsuited to being complimented. Having been raised in an emotionally abusive household, from a young age I was indoctrinated into self-loathing. In the event someone has something nice to say about me, I instantly go into siege mentality. I become suspicious. What do you want? I ask silently. Why are you trying to be friendly? What is it you’re trying to get out of me? What do I possess that you desire?
Yes, it’s really unfair, toxic and dysfunctional. Welcome to my world.
In order to receive a compliment and process it as an actual compliment, I have to intellectualise what has been said. I have to read the circumstances and the person and how they said what they said. By the time all that has been achieved, the moment for an appropriate response has typically passed, leaving little more than an awkward, uneasy silence.
People can be left thinking I lack gratitude, am arrogant or something else. The reality is something else again.
Complimenting my work is another thing. People do it a lot. My art, my writing, all of that celebrates positive feedback, which is—to me—not about me as such, but a form of reassurance my work is on the right track and should concentrate more on that kind of thing. Encouraging my work is somehow acceptable. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
The compliment I received the other day was for achieving something I wasn’t expecting I could do. It’s all part of that self-esteem issue. Filled with self-doubt, I reluctantly applied myself to the activity with trepidation and an automatic expectation I would fail. Instead, I succeeded and saved the day. I stepped back from the job and nodded satisfaction it wouldn’t be a problem any more. My satisfaction became tempered somewhat when the compliments flowed, but then I did something I’ve come to determine is the right thing to do for normal folks not dealing with an affliction like mine (childhood abuse mixed with Asperger’s plus a raft full of other issues).
I was nice. I thanked them.
In so doing, I have no idea what they actually said, however the appreciative noises and smile suggested I’d done the right thing.
Fulfilling the task successfully wasn’t the best thing I could do. Being nice to someone was.
I’m approaching fifty. You’d think by now it’s a lesson I would have already learnt and taken to heart.
I don’t get compliments. I get ignored. When it comes to receiving positive reinforcement, I’m way out of practice.
I don’t like lying, but this isn’t about me. This is about other people. Other people need care, consideration, compassion, empathy and kindness. Am I capable of those things? Even through my natural defensiveness and paranoia, my social anxiety and my shyness, of course I am. I wasn’t subject to such considerations when growing up, but that doesn’t mean I should be denying it to others, as if it’s a finite resource to be hoarded. Instead I prefer to think of it as an infinite resource to be tapped as often as possible and shared with wild abandon.
So please consider complimenting someone today. Find something good about them and let them know. If you can’t find it straight away, search. Everyone has something special and wonderful about them. Even the ones who are ugly and defensive. Let them know, and do so without expecting anything in return. Share that wondrous resource. Lie if you have to, but do it. There’s no way of knowing how much it might mean to the recipient.
Do I feel better for having been complimented? Not really. Kindness is water off this duck’s back. Nearing fifty, it’s been approaching half a century of cruelty, abuse, indifference and isolation. Turning all that around and accepting positivity, affection, regard and respect is not something to happen overnight.
Give it another fifty years. Maybe then.