"You crushed it. Seriously—what you pulled off in there changed everything."

You smile. "Thanks. It was a team effort."

Then you pivot back to the next priority.

And just like that, something was lost.

We've all done it.

Not because we didn't hear the compliment—but because it's easier not to feel it.

You give generously.
You praise.
You celebrate.
You were trained to lift others up.

But receiving? That's different.

Receiving asks you to pause—and reflect.
It invites you to see yourself through someone else's eyes.

And that can feel… exposed. Unsteady. Unfamiliar.

So instead of receiving it, we sidestep:

"No big deal."
"Just doing my job."
"Anyone could've done it."

On the surface, it looks like humility.

But look closer: it's something else.

It's control.

Control over how you're seen.
Control over what feels safe to acknowledge.
Control over the narrative before someone else shapes it for you.

And over time, that control sends a message you never intended:

"She doesn't think it mattered."
Or worse: "She doesn't think my opinion matters."

When that happens enough, people don't just stop offering praise.
They stop offering anything that isn't purely functional.

That's where the cost shows up—not in the moment, but in the silence that follows.

What I Learned From Saying Nothing

I used to be a master deflector.

Someone would compliment my work; I'd volley the credit back like it burned my hands:

"Oh, the team did all the heavy lifting."
"You would've done the same."

I thought I was doing the right thing—staying modest, sharing the spotlight.

Then one day, a mentor cut through it with one line:

"Angela. Just say thank you."

He wasn't correcting me.
He was pointing to something I didn't yet see:

They noticed.
They cared enough to say so.
They reached toward you.

And your deflection—no matter how polite—closes the door they were trying to open.

It doesn't feel like humility to them.
It feels like a small rejection.

Not of the compliment.
Of connection.

The Science Behind the Reflex

​Self-perception theory tells us we're often unsure how to evaluate ourselves, so we look to others as a reference point.

The moment their positive signal shows up, something else kicks in: doubt, imposter patterns, fear of inflated expectations.

So we manage the risk by managing the narrative:

"Don't put me on a pedestal."
"Don't expect too much next time."
"Don't look too closely."

But here's the quiet consequence:

Research on positive feedback loops shows that when people sense their praise isn't welcome, they stop offering it.

And once that loop collapses, other signals go quiet too:

• Early indicators of trust
• Signals of alignment
• Open disagreement
• The truth you need to lead well

You think you're being humble.
But what you're actually doing is narrowing the bandwidth of every relationship that relies on honest signals—especially with your team.

A Compliment Is More Than an Evaluation

It's a bid for closeness.
A moment of recognition.
A quick, human way of saying:

"I see what you did—and it mattered to me."

When you receive that fully, you give something back:

🟡 You acknowledge their perspective
You're saying, "I hear you. Your opinion matters."

🟡 You strengthen the relationship
People open up when they feel safe offering the small things.

🟡 You model a healthier standard for your team
If you can receive honestly, others will too.
And your whole culture shifts.

This isn't ego.
It's generosity.

Receiving well is an act of maturity and connection.

What This Looks Like in Real Life

Instead of: "Oh, it was nothing."
Try: "Thank you. I appreciate you saying that."

Instead of: "The team really carried this."
Try: "I'm proud of what we pulled off together."

Instead of: "Honestly, the team made this happen."
Try: "Thank you. I'm proud of what we built together."

Short.
Steady.
Still relational.

And it keeps you present with the praise instead of slipping out of it.

It doesn't hoard credit, but it doesn't dodge it either.
It stays with the compliment without making it about you or the team exclusively.

This is the line senior leaders almost never say, because it requires holding two truths at once: shared success and personal contribution.

Holding both is the part high performers tend to skip.

This Month's Experiment: Just Receive

1️⃣ Pause. Let the words reach you before you respond.

2️⃣ Say thank you. Direct. Simple. No disclaimers.

3️⃣ Add one sentence. Examples:

"That means a lot."
"I'm glad that worked."
"I appreciate you taking the time to say that."

4️⃣ Stop. No minimizing. No redirecting.

Then notice:

What shifts in your body?
How does the other person respond?
What happens to the relationship over time?

This isn’t about compliments.
It’s about becoming a leader people can be real with—because you can tolerate being seen.

The Bottom Line

You were trained to give.
To be strong, steady, self-sufficient.

Receiving is different.

It asks you to slow down.
To stay present.
To trust that what someone noticed about you might actually be true.

And when you do?

You give them something in return: the feeling that their words carried weight.

That's connection.
That's leadership.

So the next time someone offers you praise—pause.
Take it in.
Not because you need it, but because they chose to offer it and that choice deserves respect.

P.S.

As the year winds down: thank you.
For reading, for sharing, and for carrying these ideas into your teams and organizations.

A reader told me recently that he squirrels these newsletters away “like cookies”—saving them for the moment he needs them most. I almost deflected when he said it. Almost said, “Oh, they’re just quick reads.”

But I caught myself.

Because what he offered wasn’t about the writing.
It was about the pause it created for him—something he wanted to return to, and then pass along.

That’s what I hope this becomes for you, too:
not just input, but something worth stopping for.

So before January planning starts, before the resolutions and urgency rush back in—pause.
Take stock.
Receive the good that already happened.

Here’s to ending the year by practicing something most leaders rarely do: receiving.

👉 Who in your world needs this reminder? Forward it to the leader who spends all year holding everything together—and almost never accepts a compliment without ducking out of it.