Most people have problems taking criticism and I’m no exception. But I also have problems taking compliments. Not compliments meant for me. Those I eat up. But compliments meant for other people who I, in my sick little mind, am competing with.

In compliment-happy America (and Norway too according to originasia, people are always patting each other on the back. “You’re a smart cookie,” they say. Or “your skin is so beautiful,” “you’re so lucky to be multi-talented,” and “you’re so good with languages.” Sometimes they might even say, “Wow! I could never as good as you.” Once you get used to having praise lavished upon you, it’s hard remembering to share.

At piano recitals, I’d get defensive whenever my parents commented on another performer’s prowess. If a professor mentioned the excellence of another student, I would see green. When some else’s good work is highlighted, I wonder why mine isn’t.

I’m embarrased that I feel this way but I need to own up to it if I’m ever going to overcome this immature thinking. It’s hard for me to remember that just because someone else is considered good, that doesn’t mean that I’m bad. There’s usually enough space for more than one person to shine aside from the rare competition where there’s only one first place winner.

Besides, as Morrie Schwartz said in Tuesdays with Morrie, “What’s wrong with being number two?”