The Two Ways We Grow
Most of us like to think we grow from the positive stuff. A good word from someone we respect. A compliment after we’ve done something hard. That moment when a mentor tells you they’re proud of you. And to be fair, those things do help. They confirm something inside us, and they give us a little extra fuel to keep going.
But if I’m being honest, that’s not when I’ve grown the most.
The truth is, the moments that changed me weren’t comfortable. They were jarring. Sometimes they came in the form of a sharp comment, a blindside conversation, or just straight-up embarrassment. At the time, I hated it. I wanted to defend myself. But looking back, those were the moments I needed. Not the ones that made me feel good—the ones that exposed something I didn’t want to see.
There are two ways we grow in life: we grow from encouragement, and we grow from disruption. One tells you, “Keep going.” The other says, “Something’s off. Fix it.” Both are necessary—but only one tends to leave a lasting mark.
That second one? That’s what this article is about.
Childhood Conditioning: Learning to Love Praise
From the time we’re little, we’re wired to chase approval.
Good grades meant praise from teachers. Doing chores without being told? That might’ve earned you a high five from dad. Maybe you got trophies just for showing up, or a sticker chart that filled up every time you “made good choices.” Whatever it was, we learned early on that when we do good things, people like us more. And that feels good.
So we carried that into adulthood.
We work hard and hope the boss notices. We post online and wait for the likes. We go out of our way to be seen as good husbands, good dads, good leaders. And if we’re not careful, we start to believe that the only way to grow is through affirmation. Like as long as someone’s patting us on the back, we must be heading in the right direction.
But here’s the thing.
Praise might tell you what you did right. But it rarely tells you what you missed. It doesn’t challenge you. It doesn’t confront your blind spots. And the longer you live off of praise alone, the more you can drift without even realizing it.
Sometimes the growth we need doesn’t come from being told we’re doing great. It comes when someone has the guts to tell us we’re not.
The Job That Humbled Me
When I was about 17, I thought I was a pretty solid worker. I’d grown up around blue-collar work, helping my dad with landscaping jobs, doing physical labor. I knew how to work hard—or at least I thought I did.
One summer, I got the chance to work for a friend’s dad. I wanted to make a good impression, so I showed up ready to prove myself. It was a hot day, and I remember feeling like I really pushed through. Sweating, tired, working the whole time—I honestly thought I’d done a good job.
Later, I asked my friend how it went. I figured his dad had noticed my work ethic.
Instead, he said something I’ll never forget.
“Oh… my dad said you were one of the laziest guys he’s ever hired.”
I was stunned. Genuinely shocked. I had no idea that’s how I came across. Then he added, “Yeah… you kind of became the butt of the joke after that.”
I can still feel the sting of those words.
It would’ve been easy to shrug it off, or get angry and write it off as unfair. But that hit me hard—and I let it hit me. I brought it up to my dad, and for the first time, we had a real conversation about what it meant to actually work hard. The details I’d missed. The standards I didn’t know existed. The things no one told me growing up because I’d always been “good enough.”
That moment changed me.
Not because someone praised me. But because someone told me the truth—even if they didn’t mean it to help. That feedback burned, but it lit a fire in me. And that fire shaped how I approached work from then on.
The Teacher Who Broke Me Down
For three years, I studied voice. Every week, I showed up to my lesson, hoping to improve. And every week, my teacher made it clear—he didn’t think much of my voice.
He wasn’t mean in a dramatic, movie villain kind of way. But he wasn’t kind either. He’d tell me I was off. That I wasn’t hitting the tone right. That I lacked presence. That I just didn’t have what it took.
And week after week, I left those lessons feeling like a failure.
It started getting into my head. I began wondering if I was just bad. Maybe I wasn’t talented. Maybe I didn’t have the gift. And there were moments I thought about quitting—just walking away and avoiding the discouragement altogether.
But I didn’t quit.
Years later, I ended up talking to him again, and something he said stuck with me. He told me the way he taught wasn’t personal—it was intentional. He believed that when you tell someone they’re doing well, they often stop listening. But when you give them direct, even painful, feedback, that’s when they start to dig deep. That’s when they get serious. That’s when they grow.
It made sense.
I didn’t feel it in the moment. In fact, I kind of hated it. But I also can’t deny that those three years shaped how I approached challenges—not just in music, but in business, leadership, and even my own character.
Because the truth is, encouragement might make you feel better, but sometimes it’s discomfort that makes you stronger.
The Research: Why Negative Feedback Sparks Faster Change
As much as we’d like to believe people grow from encouragement alone, the research tells a different story.
One long-term study tracked adults who had gone through major negative events—things like divorce, job loss, or serious illness. Within just two years, about 25% of them experienced significant personality changes. Not just little tweaks—big shifts in how they showed up in life. Something about going through the fire had rewired them.
That’s not the kind of change people usually make because someone said, “You’re doing great.”
Another study showed that more than half of people—around 52.5%—said that criticism helped them grow more than praise. And honestly, that’s what I’ve seen in life and business. We love affirmation, but it rarely forces us to change course. Negative feedback, on the other hand, feels uncomfortable enough that it pushes us to do something different. Quickly.
Psychologists also talk about something called negativity bias. Our brains are hardwired to pay more attention to what’s wrong than what’s right. It’s a survival instinct. We remember danger. We notice criticism. We feel shame faster than we feel pride. Which means when someone points out a flaw or hits a nerve, it sticks. We carry it longer. We reflect on it more deeply.
And that reflection? That discomfort? It’s where real growth often begins.
Positive feedback makes us feel seen. But negative feedback makes us look at ourselves, sometimes for the first time in a long time.
Good Cop / Bad Cop: Masculine and Feminine Feedback at Work
There’s a reason the good cop/bad cop routine works. It’s not just some cheesy interrogation tactic from the movies—it taps into something deeper about how we respond to pressure and care.
The bad cop comes in hard. Critical. Blunt. Maybe even threatening. They apply pressure. And whether you realize it or not, that pressure shakes things loose. It exposes cracks. It breaks down your defenses.
Then the good cop shows up. Calmer. Softer. They listen. They empathize. And suddenly, they feel safe. You find yourself opening up—not just because they were kind, but because the contrast made their kindness matter more.
That contrast is powerful.
And in a weird way, it reminds me of the tension between masculine and feminine styles of feedback.
Masculine feedback tends to lean into urgency, challenge, directness. It’s the drill sergeant, the coach, the boss who doesn’t sugarcoat. It’s fast, sometimes harsh, and it’s designed to get a result quickly.
Feminine feedback tends to be more nurturing. It encourages. It listens. It waits. It doesn’t push—it invites. It’s the mentor, the counselor, the friend who sits with you instead of trying to fix you.
Neither one is wrong. But they do very different things.
Take the military, for example. They don’t have time to nurture someone into readiness. They break you down with intensity. Negative reinforcement isn’t the side effect—it’s the strategy. Why? Because they’re not training for comfort. They’re training for survival. But once that initial pressure ends, a lot of soldiers find deep healing and camaraderie through connection, support, and mentoring. The good cop follows the bad cop.
That same rhythm shows up in how we grow.
The pressure often gets our attention. The care helps us rebuild.
Masculine vs. Feminine Feedback Models
Once you start noticing it, you see it everywhere—two different styles of feedback shaping how people grow.
Masculine feedback tends to sound like:
“Step it up.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“You missed the mark.”
It’s focused on performance, responsibility, and results. It cuts straight to the point. There’s no fluff. The goal is simple—get better, fast.
Feminine feedback, on the other hand, often sounds more like:
“You’re doing great.”
“I see how hard you’re trying.”
“Let’s work through this together.”
It’s focused on encouragement, connection, and emotional safety. It doesn’t push as hard, but it creates space for steady, thoughtful growth.
You can see this dynamic in parenting, in leadership, in marriage, even in how we talk to ourselves. And neither one is wrong. In fact, we need both. Masculine feedback sharpens. Feminine feedback strengthens. One stretches you. The other supports you. Together, they shape people who can handle pressure and stay grounded in who they are.
But here’s the thing—when time is short and the stakes are high, the masculine style tends to take the lead.
That’s why military training, elite athletics, and high-performance business environments rely on challenge and criticism. They’re trying to produce results quickly. It’s not personal. It’s practical. They need to break habits, sharpen instincts, and build muscle—whether that’s physical, mental, or strategic.
But if all you ever receive is masculine feedback, and you never get the support side, it can wear you down. The goal isn’t to choose one or the other. It’s to understand the role each one plays in growth, and when each is needed.
The Shadow Side: Hurtful vs. Helpful Pain
Now, let’s be clear—not all negative feedback is good feedback. Some of it just wounds. It tears down without building anything back up.
We’ve all seen people use criticism to control, to shame, to dominate. Maybe it was a parent who never affirmed you. Maybe it was a boss who micromanaged every move. Or a coach who made you feel like nothing was ever good enough. That kind of feedback doesn’t lead to growth. It leads to bitterness, fear, and emotional numbness.
There’s a big difference between pain that’s constructive and pain that’s destructive.
Constructive pain confronts something in you that needs to change—but it doesn’t attack your worth. It pushes you, but it also gives you a chance to rise. It might be direct, even intense, but it’s rooted in care. Even if the person delivering it isn’t perfect, the feedback still holds value when it’s received with humility.
Destructive pain is different. It confuses you. Shames you. It doesn’t challenge you to grow—it convinces you that you’re not enough, no matter what you do. And that’s not correction. That’s emotional abuse.
I’ve learned to ask one simple question when I get feedback that stings: Is this coming from a place that wants to see me get better—or just feel smaller?
If the heart behind it is growth, it might still hurt—but it’s worth sitting with. If the heart behind it is control or resentment, it’s not feedback. It’s a wound waiting to happen.
Discernment matters. You don’t have to accept every voice that speaks into your life. But don’t reject every hard word either. Some of the most painful feedback I’ve ever received was exactly what I needed—because it came with the potential to shape me, not shame me.
Practical Challenge: Don’t Avoid the Fire
If you’re anything like me, you probably don’t go looking for criticism. Most of us don’t. We want to feel seen, appreciated, understood. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
But if we’re always avoiding the hard stuff—the uncomfortable conversations, the gut-punch feedback, the moments where someone calls us out—we might be dodging the very thing that could shape us.
So here’s the challenge: don’t run from the fire.
Ask yourself—Who’s given me feedback that I’ve been brushing off?
What did they say that I didn’t want to hear—but maybe needed to?
Is there a pattern of comments that keep showing up in different areas of your life—your work, your marriage, your parenting—and instead of wrestling with them, you’ve just told yourself they’re wrong?
It might be time to pause and ask: What if they’re not? What if I’m the one who’s blind to it?
Growth doesn’t happen just because we want it to. It happens when we allow pressure to reveal what’s weak—and then lean in long enough to strengthen it.
That means you might need to revisit some old wounds. Not to rehash pain, but to pull out the lesson that was buried underneath it.
It might mean asking a mentor, a friend, or your spouse: What’s one area where you think I’m not seeing myself clearly?
And then—actually listening.
That kind of honesty isn’t easy. But I promise you, it’s worth it.
Closing Reflection: The Gift of Honest Feedback
There’s a verse that’s stuck with me for years: “The wounds of a friend can be trusted.” Not just the encouragement of a friend. Not just their support. Their wounds.
That kind of feedback—the kind that cuts, but comes from someone who actually cares—might be one of the greatest gifts you’ll ever receive. It doesn’t always come wrapped in kindness. Sometimes it’s blunt. Sometimes it stings. But if you’re paying attention, you’ll realize it’s doing something deeper than making you feel good. It’s making you better.
The older I get, the more I realize growth isn’t always about finding new opportunities. Sometimes it’s about finally listening to the feedback I’ve been ignoring. Sometimes it’s about going back to those moments where something painful was said—and instead of brushing it off or defending myself, sitting with it long enough to let it teach me.
You don’t need to chase pain. But don’t waste it either.
Let it hit. Let it heal. And let it shape the man you’re becoming.
Because criticism may burn in the moment, but sometimes, fire is what forges the steel.
Sources & Research:
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Change in Personality Traits Following Life Events
https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/jopy.12759 -
Feedback: The Powerful Paradox (Zenger Folkman Whitepaper)
https://zengerfolkman.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/08/Feedback-the-Powerful-Paradox_WP-2019.pdf -
Why Negativity Is the Key to Your Future Success (TIME)
https://time.com/3580896/why-negativity-is-the-key-to-your-future-success/ -
The Ideal Praise-to-Criticism Ratio (Harvard Business Review)
https://hbr.org/2013/03/the-ideal-praise-to-criticism -
Proverbs 27:6 (NIV)
“Wounds from a friend can be trusted, but an enemy multiplies kisses.”
https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Proverbs+27%3A6&version=NIV
