The Compliment That Made My Client Panic

Why praise feels like lies when your worth is in question

Hi friends,

I was in session with Emma last week when something happened that I can't stop thinking about. She'd just told me about landing a huge client at work—something she'd been working toward for months.

I said, "Emma, that's incredible. You must be so proud of the work you put in."

Her immediate response: "I just got lucky. Anyone could have done it."

I tried again: "But you prepared for weeks. You researched their company, you anticipated their needs—"

"The timing was just right," she interrupted. "Wrong person, right place kind of thing."

I sat there watching this brilliant woman—someone who consistently exceeds expectations, who colleagues seek out for advice, who solved a problem that had stumped her entire team—completely deflect every attempt to acknowledge her competence.

And I realized: Emma can't accept compliments because somewhere along the way, she learned that her worth depends on being modest about her achievements.

When humility becomes hiding

Emma grew up in a house where confidence was called arrogance. Where celebrating your wins meant you were "getting too big for your britches." Where the safest way to exist was to make yourself smaller, quieter, less threatening to the people around you.

So now, at thirty-four, she's climbed the corporate ladder by working twice as hard as everyone else while giving credit to luck, timing, or anyone but herself.

"I don't want people to think I'm full of myself," she told me. "Better to be humble than come across like I think I'm better than everyone."

But here's what I've noticed in my years of doing this work: there's a difference between humility and self-erasure.

True humility acknowledges both your strengths and your areas for growth. It says "I worked hard for this and I'm proud of the result" without needing to diminish anyone else.

Self-erasure says "It wasn't really me" every time something good happens.

The cost of deflecting praise

What Emma doesn't realize is that constantly deflecting compliments isn't protecting her from arrogance—it's robbing her of the ability to internalize her own competence.

Every time someone acknowledges her skills and she attributes it to luck, she's reinforcing the belief that she doesn't deserve good things. She's telling her nervous system that she's an imposter who's fooling everyone.

And here's the thing about imposters—they live in constant fear of being found out.

Emma works sixty-hour weeks not because her job requires it, but because she's terrified that if she does anything less than perfect, people will realize she doesn't belong. She can't enjoy her successes because she's busy preparing for the moment when everyone discovers she's been faking it.

What would change for Emma if she could accept that she's actually good at her job?

The practice that's changing everything

I asked Emma to try something that felt completely terrifying to her: for one week, when someone complimented her work, she was going to say "thank you" and stop talking.

Not "thank you, but..." Not "thank you, it was nothing." Just "thank you."

The first time she tried it, she said it felt like lying. Like she was taking credit for something that wasn't really hers. But by the end of the week, something shifted.

"I realized," she told me, "that saying thank you didn't make me arrogant. It just made me... honest."

What I'm curious about

I keep seeing this pattern in sessions—brilliant women who can accept feedback about their areas for improvement but somehow can't absorb evidence of their competence.

Do you recognize this in yourself? Do you deflect compliments or attribute your successes to luck? Do you worry that accepting praise will make you seem arrogant?

Hit reply and tell me. I'm genuinely curious about how this shows up in your life, not because I'm gathering data, but because I think there's something powerful about naming these patterns.

What would change for you if you could truly accept that you're good at what you do?

Maybe you'd stop working yourself into the ground trying to prove your worth. Maybe you'd speak up in meetings because you'd trust that your ideas have value. Maybe you'd enjoy your achievements instead of immediately moving on to the next thing you need to prove.

Emma is learning that she can be both humble and proud. Both grateful for opportunities and aware of her own competence. Both a team player and someone who deserves recognition.

You can be those things too.

Talk to you soon,
Mary

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