Why I Still Get Triggered by Feedback (And What It’s Teaching Me)
I’ve spent years on a path of growth—walking through fire, sitting in stillness, diving into Tantra, and learning to hold space for others. I facilitate groups, guide couples, teach compassionate communication, and coach men in their transformation.
But let me be honest with you:
Receiving feedback still messes with my head sometimes.
Whether you’re a parent, partner, leader, or simply someone trying to grow—this pattern shows up everywhere. It’s gotten better, a lot better. But that little voice—the one that used to turn every suggestion into a criticism, every reflection into an attack—he still lives inside me.
And while I no longer let him drive the car, he sometimes still screams from the back seat.
Where It Started
Growing up, feedback wasn’t safe. It didn’t feel like guidance—it felt like judgment. When someone told me I did something wrong, I didn’t hear “This can help you grow.” I heard, “You’re not good enough. You failed again. You’re a disappointment.”
It was hardwired. Over time, I built walls to protect myself. I became the overachiever, the perfectionist, the performer. I tried to be ten steps ahead so no one could find fault. If I could anticipate the feedback, maybe I could avoid the shame.
But of course, that only worked for so long.
What Changed
The real shift began when I stumbled into something I’d never experienced before: men’s circles and deep Tantric work. Eventually, this led me to profound emotional healing. In those circles, I witnessed something I had never seen modeled before:
Men receiving feedback with presence. Not defensiveness. Not shame. Just presence.
At first, I thought they were pretending. Nobody could be that unshaken, right?
But as I sat with it more, I realized—it wasn’t that they didn’t feel something. It’s that they didn’t fight what they felt.
That became my work. To feel the sensations in my body when someone offered feedback—to breathe into the heat, the tightness in my chest, the knot in my belly—instead of reacting or shutting down.
Easier said than done.
The Old Reaction
For years, my pattern went like this:
Someone would offer a suggestion or a reflection.
I’d immediately feel the burn of shame.
I’d either justify, deflect, or retreat into self-judgment.
Then later, alone, I’d obsess over it—often resenting the person for “making me feel bad.”
None of that helped me grow. And it certainly didn’t help me stay connected.
In relationship, this pattern was devastating. Partners would offer loving feedback, and I’d hear it as criticism. I’d spiral into old wounds and push them away when what I truly wanted was closeness.
In work, it stunted my evolution. I’d reject ideas that could have taken my offerings to the next level simply because they made me uncomfortable.
I wasn’t open. I wasn’t coachable. I was afraid.
The New Practice
Here’s what I’ve learned—and what I now teach in The Compassion Project:
Feedback is a mirror, not a weapon.
If it triggers something in me, that’s not proof it’s wrong—it’s proof it touched something tender. And tenderness is sacred ground.
Just last month, a student approached me after class with feedback about something I’d taught. In the past, I would have felt that familiar heat rising, ready to defend or justify. Instead, I paused. I breathed. I let my walls down and simply listened. When they finished, they said something that floored me: “Wow, all I really wanted was to be heard.” That’s the power of presence over protection.
I check my body first before responding with words. I ask myself: “Is what I’m feeling true now—or is it old?”
Often, the sting I feel isn’t from the words in front of me—it’s from echoes of a voice long gone. A parent, a teacher, an ex. When I realize that, I soften. I return. I listen again—with my heart open.
And you know what?
The more I practice this, the more I actually crave feedback—because it’s no longer about shame. It’s about growth. It’s about trust—that someone sees me clearly and still wants to support my evolution.
That’s intimacy.
Teaching What I’m Still Learning
I’m not writing this from some enlightened mountain top. I still get activated. I still have moments when I want to shut down or prove I’m right. But I catch it faster now. I recover faster. I apologize sooner. I get curious more often.
And that’s why I teach this work.
Because it’s still my practice.
Because I’ve seen the damage that defensive communication can do to relationships.
Because I know how isolating it feels to be trapped behind the wall of “don’t tell me what to do.”
And because I’ve also seen how liberating it is to drop that armor.
In The Compassion Project, we spend 10 weeks learning how to listen from the heart. We learn how to speak in ways that don’t trigger shame—and how to hear feedback without collapsing. We explore the difference between truth and tone, and we build capacity in our nervous systems to stay open, even when it’s hard.
It’s not therapy. It’s not performance. It’s practice—real, honest, embodied.
Because…
Sometimes the thing we most need to teach is the very thing we’re still learning to embody.
I don’t have it all figured out. But I do know this:
When we can truly receive each other—without needing to be right or perfect—love becomes possible again.
And I’m committed to that kind of love. In myself. In my relationships. In my work.
If you’re walking this path too, I’d love to walk with you.
What’s your relationship with feedback? Do you find yourself getting defensive, or have you found ways to stay open? I’d love to hear your experience in the comments.
Special Invitation
The Compassion Project: The Language of Love is a 10-week journey into the heart of communication. It’s not about being perfect—it’s about being real. If you’re tired of defensiveness, shutdowns, or feeling misunderstood, this is a place to heal those patterns and learn new ways of relating.
We begin July 7th. Early bird pricing is available now.
If any of this resonates, I’d love to connect. Drop a comment, send me a message, or learn more at www.TheCompassionProject.net