The Difficulty I have Accepting Compliments

I receive so much positive feedback for my blog posts. I am referred to as inspirational, or courageous, or any number of similar accolades.

Of course this buoys my mood, and it motivates me to keep writing. We humans are programmed to welcome, even crave compliments. So please allow me to say a big THANK YOU to all my readers for your support! It means a great deal to me.

But I feel a little bit guilty. I inherited my resilience from my mother. It was an advantage of birth similar to when people inherit intelligence, athleticism, or good looks. In addition to my genetic advantages, I am fortunate in so many other ways. Here are just a few:

I’m a white male in America (three advantages in one)

I have an incredibly supportive wife, family, and friends (apparently advantages come in threes)

I have a certain amount of financial security (at least until the next market crash)

I don’t suffer from depression (am I crazy not to?)

I suppose I have been a good steward of these gifts, and that’s something. I’ve made the effort to share my experiences. I could have kept this all to myself, but I didn’t. I hereby accept any and all praise for being forthright.

But there are so many people who wake up every day and battle against incredible odds, and they don’t get the recognition that I get. I don’t believe I’m any more worthy of this praise than people who are having a rougher time than me, people who don’t enjoy the advantages I do, or people who can’t describe their lives in a positive and inspirational way because they are miserable.

I’d like to giftwrap the complement “you are such an inspiration” that I received in an email last week and deliver it to the person with MS who gives her best every day even though her husband just left her because he “can’t take it anymore.” I’d like to regift the “you’re a remarkable person” comment that I received at my blog and send it off to the cancer patient who is trying to make the critical decision about whether or not to continue treatment.

Since these exchanges are not possible, here’s the deal I propose. I’ll continue to welcome your compliments with appreciation and humility, and I’ll maintain my positive message. In return, we must all recognize those disadvantaged people who are not able to live a contented life – those people who are scratching and clawing just to survive. To me, those are the real, silent heroes.

Now, here is the question of the day for all of you armchair psychiatrists. Did I write this post for purely altruistic reasons, or am I subconsciously craving even more positive feedback along the lines of “No, Mitch, you really do deserve to be admired. Don’t sell yourself short.”

I wish I knew the answer.