When Compliments Hurt

By Nadiyah Kaur

Sunday, 2am, my phone rings and it’s my ex. I picked up, knowing there was a 95% chance he was drunk and we’d have a long-winded, senseless conversation for much longer than I’d like – but it was 2am and I’d spent quite enough alone-time in bed with my demons. The conversation didn’t go quite exactly as I’d thought it would – it wasn’t a ‘bad’ conversation, minimal conflict actually, it was however difficult for me, just not for the reasons I would have thought.

In conversation, he told me something that I’m sure most women would die to hear. He’s told me this before, but there was something different in his tone this evening, there was something purely genuine when he spoke. There was dead silence for a moment – the kind you actually notice – he said my name slow and steady, and I knew I was in for something now – “ I am where I am today because of you – you changed me, made me into a better man.”

My heart stopped, my breathing came to a halt and everything inside me froze in gut-wrenching… pain? I didn’t know what to say and when I finally remembered to breathe again, it unleashed a silent river of tears. Now, I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know why I was crying, why everything hurt, why his word felt as if they were sitting inside my stomach, tearing me apart, slowly.

I tried to figure out why I was feeling this way? Why was I feeling pain and hurt by what he’d said? My first thought was, “well then why aren’t we still together.” But, the more he complimented me the more I realised that wasn’t it: that’s not the reason for this uncomfortable feeling in my tummy, so why?

He finished with, “you’re an amazing person, I just wish you could see it.”
My mind finally chimed in, “no you’re not. Maybe once… not anymore…”

Finally, I realised this was a familiar feeling, actually – it was the same gut-wrenching feeling I feel when my then therapist, Andrea said anything positive to me – be it commending my bravery for actually making it to therapy, or trying to remind me of “the beauty that’s inside me”, or when mummy reminds me of how happy I used to be, or how much she needs me – even in the most trivial, jovial way.

Compliments just don’t sit well with me anymore: I’ve never been someone who ever knew what to do with one, just throw an awkward say ‘thank you’ and hope that’s sufficient… now they leave me feeling winded and sick like someone’s just gone and punched me in the stomach, reminiscing about a ghost.

As the conversation continued, he continued to compliment me, and every time he did, I started to feel my insides twist. I’m just not that person anymore… I’m not really anyone anymore.

How do you tell someone: this person you’re speaking of – maybe she existed once, but she’s gone now, left with not much else but wondering who the hell she is now!?

He spoke of a genuine and kind person, but she no longer exists – what remains her shell, battered, bruised and scarred – lost of hope and utterly exhausted by the constant, unyielding war within herself.