The Afterglow of Kindness: Why Compliments Matter Beyond National Compliment Day
By Jen Bennethum
Observing January 24th whenever we're ready
When the Calendar Gives Us Permission to Care
National Compliment Day came and went on January 24th, but perhaps there's something perfect about observing it now, in the quiet aftermath. Away from the social media proclamations and the pressure to perform kindness on cue, we can explore what genuine appreciation actually does for our mental health—and why so many of us struggle to receive it.
"Most of us are better at giving love than accepting it. We don't realize all the ways that our resistance to appreciation, praise, compliments...hurts us and cripples our relationships." Harville Hendrix.
This resistance often begins in childhood, when we learn which parts of ourselves are acceptable to show and which must be hidden. If compliments came with conditions ("you're so smart when you try"), or if praise felt dangerous because it drew unwanted attention, our bodies learned to deflect recognition as a survival strategy. We developed an early warning system that treats visibility—even positive visibility—as a potential threat.
Yet when we observe Compliment Day on our own timeline, we reclaim agency over how we engage with appreciation. There's no performance anxiety, no social pressure, just the quiet practice of noticing what happens in our bodies when kindness comes our way. This delayed observation becomes its own form of self-compassion—honoring our pace, our readiness, our unique relationship with receiving care.
The Nervous System Response to Unexpected Kindness
For many of us, receiving a compliment feels like catching a butterfly—we're simultaneously delighted and uncertain what to do with it. Our bodies might tense, our minds might deflect ("oh, this old thing?"), or we might rush to return the compliment like a hot potato. This isn't rudeness or false modesty. It's often our nervous system protecting us from vulnerability, from being truly seen, from the unfamiliar sensation of being held in someone's positive regard.
When we've learned that attention means criticism, or that praise comes with hidden expectations, our bodies remember. They brace for the "but" that might follow, or scan for the agenda behind the kindness. This vigilance served us once—it kept us safe in environments where love was conditional or unpredictable.
Consider how your body responds to different types of recognition. A compliment about appearance might feel safer than one about your character. Praise for achievement might land easier than acknowledgment of your inherent worth. These patterns are somatic memories—your body's way of categorizing which types of visibility have been safe historically. There's profound intelligence in these protective responses, even when they no longer serve us. Understanding this helps us approach our resistance with curiosity rather than judgment.
Compliments as Co-Regulation
The truth is, genuine compliments are small acts of co-regulation. When someone notices something about us—our effort, our growth, our simple being—and names it with kindness, they're offering their regulated nervous system as a tuning fork for ours. They're saying, "I see you, and what I see is good." For those of us who grew up with criticism disguised as care, or praise that came with strings attached, this can feel foreign, even threatening.
But here's what shifts when we understand compliments through this lens: we can start small. We can practice receiving kindness in doses our nervous system can handle. A simple "thank you" without explanation or deflection. A breath before we respond. Permission to feel the warmth of being seen without immediately giving it back.
The healing happens in these micro-moments of allowing ourselves to be impacted by another's care. When someone offers genuine appreciation and we let it touch us—even for a second—we're literally rewiring our capacity for connection. We're teaching our nervous system that being seen doesn't always lead to being harmed, that recognition can exist without conditions, that we can be valued simply for being ourselves. This is slow work, tender work, revolutionary work in a world that taught us to armor against both criticism and care.
Moving Beyond Surface Observations
When we practice compliments as an ongoing exchange rather than a designated day, we begin to build our capacity for both giving and receiving meaningful recognition. Surface compliments ("nice shirt") have their place, but what really rewires our sense of worth are observations of impact: "The way you stayed calm during that meeting helped everyone breathe easier" or "I noticed how you made space for your friend's feelings yesterday."
These deeper acknowledgments recognize our choices, our growth, our way of moving through the world. They mirror back to us that our presence matters, that our efforts to heal and show up differently are visible, even when we can't see them ourselves.
There's a particular magic in compliments that acknowledge our growth edges—the places where we're stretching beyond old patterns. "I noticed you set that boundary even though it was uncomfortable" or "You asked for what you needed today." These observations celebrate not perfection but courage, not arrival but journey. They see us in our becoming, which is often where we most need witnessing. When we offer these growth-affirming reflections to others, we become part of their healing ecosystem, their circle of people who notice and name their brave, imperfect progress.
Building a Practice of Recognition
Start where you are. If receiving compliments feels overwhelming, practice with yourself first. Notice one thing each day that you did well—not perfectly, just well enough. Speak it aloud to yourself: "I responded with patience when I wanted to react." "I asked for help when I needed it." This isn't toxic positivity or ignoring struggles; it's building neural pathways for recognizing goodness alongside difficulty.
When giving compliments, try moving beyond appearance to essence. Notice how people impact the space around them. Acknowledge the small braveries—showing up to the difficult meeting, trying the new thing, staying soft in a harsh world. These observations cost us nothing but attention, yet they can shift someone's entire day, sometimes their entire sense of self.
Remember that timing matters in this practice. A compliment given when someone is in survival mode might not land the same way as one offered when they're regulated and present. This isn't about withholding appreciation but about attuning to readiness. Sometimes the kindest thing is to hold our observation until the person has the capacity to receive it. Other times, it's offering it anyway and trusting their system to take what it needs. This discernment—reading the room of someone's nervous system—is part of making compliments truly nourishing rather than overwhelming.
The Revolution of Everyday Kindness
Perhaps the most radical thing about observing Compliment Day late is that it reminds us: kindness doesn't need permission from the calendar. In a world that profits from our self-doubt, that teaches us to scan for threats rather than connection, exchanging genuine appreciation becomes a quiet revolution—one nervous system at a time.
Every day holds space for noticing each other's light, for speaking the good we see, for practicing the vulnerable art of letting ourselves be seen in return. And when we miss the "official" day? We get to discover that connection isn't about perfect timing—it's about showing up with presence whenever we're ready, whenever we can, whenever the person in front of us needs to remember they're worthy of being seen.
This revolution includes honoring our cultural contexts around compliments. Some of us come from traditions where direct praise is considered dangerous (drawing the evil eye) or inappropriate (too individualistic). Others of us navigate the complicated dynamics of compliments across power differentials—gender, race, hierarchy—where appreciation can be weaponized or misread. The revolution isn't insisting everyone receive compliments the same way; it's creating spaces of safety where each person's relationship with recognition is honored while still making room for healing and growth.
Moving Forward
The beauty of missing National Compliment Day on January 24th is discovering that appreciation doesn't expire. As you move through your days, remember that compliments aren't just nice words—they're small acts of nervous system care, both for ourselves and others. Start where you feel safe: practice receiving one kind observation without deflection, or offer one genuine acknowledgment of someone's impact. Notice how your body responds to giving and receiving appreciation, honoring whatever protection patterns arise with compassion.
Most importantly, remember that building our capacity for kindness—toward others and ourselves—isn't about perfection or timing. It's about practice, presence, and the radical act of seeing goodness in a world that often teaches us to look for what's wrong. Every day you're alive is a day worthy of recognition. Every small kindness you offer or receive rewires our collective capacity for connection. That's the real celebration—not bound by any calendar, but woven into the ongoing practice of being human together. Please feel free to reach out to us at Integrate Therapy and Wellness Collective with any questions or if you just want us to walk with you on your journey to wholeness.
