Receiving feedback, whether it’s a formal performance review or the subtle silence of someone not returning your call, is never easy. It doesn’t matter how senior you are. Delta feedback, the kind that points out what isn’t working, what needs to change or where you fell short, stings every single time.
There is a myth that some people can hear negative things about themselves and not care, but let me tell you with 100% certainty: It is not true. Negative, mean or even well-intended but poorly delivered feedback always hurts. We might carry it for days, weeks or even a lifetime.
Most of us were taught some version of the old phrase: “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me,” but it is a lie. Words can and do hurt, sometimes more than anything physical.
The Power Of Words
Words matter. They can uplift or undermine, include or isolate. Words can seal a business deal or lose one. They can sustain a relationship or end it. They can create grace, understanding and forgiveness in the face of even grave mistakes, or they can initiate lawsuits and even wars.
Think about the role of language in your own life. Have you ever wanted the attention of a family member and they snapped at you with “Can’t you see I am busy?” Even when you know they were in the middle of something, it still hurts. With a response like that, most of us eventually stop asking.
The sting of rejection or criticism is universal. Which is why receiving feedback, especially the kind that calls us out or corrects us, can be so difficult.
Feedback As Information
So, what can we do? The first shift is to reframe what feedback really is. At its core, feedback is information. It is one person’s perspective, filtered through their own wants, needs and agendas. Not all feedback is useful, and not all feedback is fair. But any result tells us something about the lay of the land, and if we want to navigate it successfully with those particular people, it helps to know where we stand.
Feedback does not define you. It may hurt in the moment, but it is not your identity. It is simply data you can consider, discard or act upon.
The ‘Ouch’ Tool
Of course, telling yourself that feedback is “just information” is easier said than done. In the heat of the moment, when your boss is criticizing your performance or a colleague is shifting blame onto you in a meeting, it can be nearly impossible to detach from the sting.
So, I want to offer a simple tool called “Ouch.”
Here’s how it works: The next time you receive feedback that hurts, instead of pretending it doesn’t, say quietly to yourself, “Ouch. That hurt.”
It sounds simple, even silly, but it can change everything. By naming the hurt, you acknowledge it. Just as you would with a child who falls down, you pause and say, “That looked like it hurt. Are you okay?”
“Ouch” is that kind of acknowledgment for yourself. It says, I see you. I know that hurt.
This tiny act creates space between what you feel and how you respond. Instead of reacting defensively, you gain a moment to breathe, listen and decide what comes next.
How It Works In Practice
Imagine your boss pulls you aside and gives you critical feedback. Without “Ouch,” you might immediately jump to defend yourself. With “Ouch,” you give yourself a moment to absorb the sting. You can then reflect back what you heard: “You need me to more proactively communicate project updates, as you felt blindsided on this project. Did I get that right?” Which you can do without agreeing. You are simply showing you understand and giving yourself time to process the information before deciding what to do with it.
Or consider when a colleague blames your team in a meeting. Without “Ouch,” you might fire back angrily. With “Ouch,” you acknowledge the hurt and then choose a more measured response: “Mark, it feels like you’re blaming my team for the pilot failure, and while we did miss a milestone, we both know there were responsibilities across the board. Unless you have direct feedback for me right now, let’s focus on what we need to do differently moving forward.” This lets them know how they communicated isn’t acceptable and redirects attention in a useful way.
Finally, you might ask your teenager if they want to see a movie tonight, but they respond curtly (as teenagers sometimes do), “No, I am going out with my friends.” Instead of pretending you aren’t disappointed, you say to yourself, “Ouch. That hurt.”
Why This Matters In Leadership
I love this tool because it honors the truth of who we are. Human beings need to be liked, loved and wanted. We are all easily hurt. This is not weakness; it is our humanity. And it is beautiful!
When leaders recognize this in themselves, they become more compassionate. They understand that feedback is never easy to hear, so they choose their words with greater care.
And when leaders practice “Ouch,” they model a healthier way to receive feedback, one that is honest, self-aware and constructive. Instead of denying the hurt or overreacting, they acknowledge it, absorb it and then have a greater ability to choose their response.
The Bigger Picture
Sometimes feedback reflects a truth we need to hear. Other times, it says more about the person giving it. Either way, it is information we can use. But to use it effectively, we must first get past the initial hurt.
“Ouch” is one simple way to do that. It is a way of saying to yourself, “I am here for me.”
The next time you receive feedback, whether in the form of a formal review, a colleague’s criticism or a friend’s silence, try it.
“Ouch, that hurt.”
As published on Forbes.
Susanne Biro’s New Book: This Could Be Everything. For anyone who wants to make their tomorrow better than today.
Our world has changed, rapidly and in unexpected ways. As the crisis hit, I offered and held pro bono sessions with leaders from around the world. And I want to continue to do what I can to help. As a result, I now offer hourly sessions to ensure leaders everywhere can quickly get the perspective, clarity and focus they need to lead themselves, and therefore others, well during these challenging and uncertain times.