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Compliments are as normal as they can be terrifying. Some feverishly court them while they repulse another. We’re taught that we need to love ourselves, to find solace in our own self-image, while also told that others often know us better than we know ourselves. For those apt to distrust, and who are not only cynical but also self-loathing, both options may feel impossible, so out of reach that one may even come to treat both with disdain, rejecting them to mask their deep-seated needs and fears.
While all of us need approval and even admiration to some degree, some struggle to make peace with those needs, judging themselves for their apparently excessive nature. So, they use perfectionism, which can be thought of as a survival strategy, to cope. Perfectionism is an extremely individualistic pursuit; it’s the paradoxical belief that although one is fundamentally flawed, in the deepest way, they can, nevertheless, overcome their nature through strategic effort. This system can be considered a form of magical thinking because (a) both beliefs are largely baseless, meaning the reasoning behind them is flimsy while somewhat sensical on the surface, and (b) the sense of arrival, victory, or whatever is solely based on hope, as the individual can’t tell you what it constitutes or how one specifically gets there.
On the one hand, one believes they can and should prove their worth to themselves, and on the other, they expect the world to gift them the evidence. So, as you can imagine, this basis contributes to a push/pull and love/hate relationship with compliments. One hates how much they need them, they shame themselves for being influenced by them, they find their inability to find merit in themselves intolerable, and they continue to remind themself that it will all one day be fixed. All of this is a form of avoidance, an unwillingness to try to make sense of one’s life and one’s place in the world and, therefore, make more meaningful or well-considered choices.
Perfectionism is future-oriented, carrying the implicit excuse that one can keep chugging along because it will all make sense in the end. The idea that we should just put our heads down and work, without deeper thought, is very existential, prominent in many religions. As the questions of life’s meaning tend to scare the general population, the questions around who one is and their innate value terrify the perfectionist. And compliments may easily prompt them. They may mean much less to the giver than to the receiver. We often compliment others impulsively; sharing our thoughts is an easy way to do good. Yet, perfectionists, who often remain both confused and stubborn, struggle to make sense of them.
“Is this person lying to me?” “What do they want from me?” “If I was wrong about myself this entire time, did I waste my life?” “Am I just a coward?” “What if they’re just being nice and I feel stupid for believing them?” “What if I’m stupid for not believing them?” “What if I’m just a miserable person?” Some perfectionists will intellectualize, arguing that they’re just using a strategy called “defensive pessimism,” keeping their self-esteem low as a way to motivate themselves to perform better. Arnold Schwarzenegger famously used a similar argument when he recalled that, after winning a bodybuilding competition, he’d fixate on all of his physical flaws while staring at himself in the mirror, shaming himself for each one, no matter how trivial. He said he used the strategy as a way to avoid becoming complacent. This sort of argument presents a thin veneer of control, making it seem as though much of the obsessiveness is completely in one’s hands.
However, in reality, most perfectionists struggle to feel optimistic or even have a measured perspective of reality. Pessimism comes so naturally to them that it would be comical to call “defensive pessimism” a strategy (at least here)—it’s a way of life based largely on fear, and not just of complacency. Compliments imply responsibilities, limitations, needs, and even vulnerabilities. They make some of us extremely uncomfortable, in large part because they inform us of the imperative to make sense of ourselves in order to make sense of our lives, to get our needs met. However, if you need to be the best in some or even all areas, a compliment may imply that you aren’t. If you fear rejection and/or loss, a compliment may imply missed opportunities—it’s often easier to tell ourselves that failure is inevitable. And if you’re terrified of being humiliated, a compliment may imply vulnerability, the thought of, “I won’t allow myself to eventually feel stupid for believing this.”
So, it makes sense why perfectionism is a fixation on the future. You can keep telling yourself to put your head down and work. Many of us intensely fear knowing ourselves largely because our weaknesses and limitations make us feel needy, out of control, and, most importantly, dependent. Fundamentally, however, both things are true: We need to learn how to love, or at least make peace with ourselves, while soliciting others’ feedback and accepting at least some of their praise (obviously, as well as their critical feedback). This means placing the burden of proof on ourselves, holding ourselves responsible for making sense of the evidence and tolerating ambiguity.
To call one’s inability to integrate compliments “defensive pessimism” is a cop-out, almost always ending with deep regrets. It’s true that the more sensitive you are, the more you rely on reassurance. Rather than pushing it away, it may be more helpful to reconsider your perspectives of it. Are sympathy and pity one and the same? Can one consider you an equal while also acknowledging your sensitivities? Can you accept a compliment without always peeking out for another dropped shoe?
