Feedback Masochism

The pain and pleasure of criticism & validation

“This isn’t good writing,” my professor solemnly remarked.

He, a visiting musicologist from an Ivy League school, gestured to my essay sitting on his desk while holding my gaze through spectacled eyes.

I squinted at the words as if reading the smallest letters on an optometrist’s chart. If only my writing could shrink to size-one font so neither of us could see it on the page.

He read the essay back to me. I winced at my words coming from his mouth as if I were listening to an off-key instrument.

“What are you trying to say?” his question paralyzed me.  Here I was trying to pass a general elective course about 1960s music. If I didn’t pass, would I be able to graduate college? My face flushed hot with panic.

His face softened, and his tone shifted from criticism to curiosity. “Tell me more about what you mean here.”

I took a breath and explained. As he continued asking questions, the duet of our conversation relaxed. We talked about jazz, John Coltrane, the counterculture movement, and –  of course – ways to make this all more clear in my writing.

For the rest of the semester, his advice spun in my head like a record on a turntable. I toiled over five-page essays, and with each one, I improved. Despite finishing the class with A-, I couldn’t unhook my self-worth from his initial feedback. 

I've always internalized feedback. Each critical note serves as a reminder of what I lack. I take those as punches and use them as motivation to improve myself constantly.

Hooked On Criticism

Feedback masochism was my way of maintaining a “growth mindset.” After graduating and entering the corporate world as an Executive Recruiter, I cycled between collecting ego-bruises with each piece of constructive feedback and healing the pain with intense work. I got promoted in three months, tripled my earnings in two years, and trained for my first half marathon. At 6 PM, I’d run out of the office along the San Francisco Bay and loop back by 7 PM to work for a few more hours. 

Receiving feedback was like putting on Tiger Balm ointment – it stung in a good way. But external validation felt even better, especially for a people-pleaser like me. I rubbed validation deep into my ego-bruises, massaging out the tension. Ahhh, that’s it. 

Among the performance reviews, pay raises, and positive feedback, pressure mounted beneath the surface of my poised demeanor. A few weeks after taking on one of my recruiting firm’s largest accounts, the client stated: “You haven’t been bringing us enough candidates.”

Something I heard in his voice made me freeze. I assumed he meant, “You aren’t doing your job.” After the call ended, I got up from my desk, walked into the bathroom stall, and started to sob softly.  Oh geez, crying at work? 

I wish I could say this was the only time I secretly shed some tears in the office. Over time, I continued to internalize feedback and warped it into my inner critic. But I don’t need a gold star or a pat on the head for being a good girl. I don’t need criticism as a motivator to push myself.

Unhooking From Masochism

One powerful statement snapped me out of the feedback-validation cycle. 

I’m sitting at my desk listening to a workshop led by Tara Mohr, a women’s leadership educator.¹ On the screen, I see hundreds of other women looking back into the camera. We’re all here to quiet our inner critics. 

Tara says these words:

“Feedback doesn’t give you information about you. Feedback gives you information about your context.” 

I couldn’t scribble them down fast enough. The tangled thoughts of my inner critic began to unravel as she continued with these questions:

• What does this feedback tell me about the person giving it?

• What does it tell me about that person’s priorities, stressors, or constraints at the time? 

• What does it tell me about the team or company?

Feedback isn’t about some deficit within me; it's about the needs of the feedback-giver. A person's feedback is only about how I can be more effective with that person.

With this reframe, I’m empowered to decide if and how I want to adapt my approach to someone’s feedback. No need to self-criticize or ride an emotional rollercoaster of self-doubt. If I’m comfortable with adapting, then I will align with their needs so we can collaborate and move forward. 

I’m reminded of the feedback a seasoned colleague gave me. She said that I don’t talk enough in client meetings. “Just be yourself,” she assured. 

I worried whether I came across as cold or shy, but I didn’t feel that way. I was being myself, and she was always being herself. Her feedback showed me she preferred to build rapport by asking clients about their families and sprinkling in playful banter. Rather than inauthentically mimicking her, I learned to complement her style by naturally chiming in as we chuckled with our clients. We ended up doing some of our best work together. 

Feedback is a gift because someone is revealing what’s important to them. And with an open mind, I can understand how the feedback is relevant to both our shared and my personal goals.

Once I let go of my self-deficit mindset, I discovered how to practice self-satisfaction. 

The Good Mood of The Soul

I think of self-satisfaction as a deliberate practice of personal gratitude. Personal gratitude is when we find joy in who we are and our work without relying on external validation. 

The Greek word for joy is chairo, meaning the “culmination of being” and “the good mood of the soul.” This requires us to look past our achievements and into our being and realize I am enough.²

It’s impossible to measure self-worth because our beings abound with meaning.

Let’s break from feedback masochism and create an environment that nurtures joy and self-satisfaction in our pursuits.

I think back to that moment in my professor's office. While hearing his praise would’ve been music to my ears at the time, what did his feedback on my writing illuminate about him? 

I think it means he cared. He cared about pondering life’s great mysteries through music and finding meaning in songs and sharing ideas. He cared about helping people find their voice through writing.

Now that I’m quieting my inner critic, I can finally hear my own voice.

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Thank you for reading Connection Crave. If you enjoyed this, I recommend checking out my post, The Graceful Discipline Scale.

1. Tara Mohr led the attendees through her workshop, Quieting Your Inner Critic. You can learn more about Tara’s work here.

2. I learned about chairo from Brene Brown’s book, The Gifts of Imperfection.