Don’t read your own reviews

How the frantic pursuit of external validation ruined my Sunday—and what I did about it

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As you may know, I have a rule about writing books: I don’t read my own reviews. I haven’t since 2012, when an Amazon reviewer said of It Starts With Food, “She writes like a fifth grader.” (It might have been “fourth grader;” it was a long time ago.) That review wrecked me for days, so I took it to my next therapy session. My therapist helped me realize I need to stop reading my reviews, for three reasons:

1. Reviews aren’t for the author. (It’s not like I can go back and change the book.) Reviews are for readers to share with each other how they chose to experience the work.

2. Other people’s praise and criticism are two sides of the same coin. If I allow one to fill me up, by default, I must allow the other to bring me down. (Guess which one impacts me more?)

3. What other people think of me (or my book) is not my business. My business (and where I have power) is what I think of my book.

I immediately took this to heart—and I haven’t read a single review on Amazon (or any other site, including Good Reads). Until last Sunday.

I knew better

The New Whole30 had been out for six days. I spent the week in three different cities, doing media and book signing events. It was a whirlwind of the best kind. I heard so many incredible Whole30 stories, shared some personal behind-the-scenes of writing the book, and spent my down time replying to hundreds of excited comments and stories on social media.

Then on Sunday morning, in the middle of speed-replying to more messages, I opened one that said something like, “I know the Amazon reviews aren’t great, but I’m telling you, the book is amazing.”

I immediately got nauseous. Physically nauseous. Before I could even pause and reflect, I found myself frantically searching for The New Whole30 on Amazon. There were 11 reviews—and four of them were 1 or 2 stars. I felt my stomach drop into the basement.

Of course, I dug right in. I won’t bore you with the details (“you need a new editor”) but I will share the emotional states I cycled through as I read them:

First, defensiveness. Obviously, these people were jerks/idiots/how dare they. Then, more nausea. What would my publisher think? My team? Strangers on the internet!? And also, self-reproach. I knew this behavior was unproductive and terrible for my mental health—yet I couldn’t stop. Wash, rinse, repeat as I read, re-read, and Googled, “Why doesn’t Amazon let you reply to reviews anymore?” (They used to, and I WANTED TO.)

It gets worse

This is as bad as it gets, right? Except no, because then I went and made it worse. I sent messages to a group of paid subscribers on Substack and my Whole30 HQ team saying, “I’m getting my ass kicked on Amazon—would you consider leaving a review?” I’m embarrassed, a little. But not really, because nobody is above being human and craving validation, even if you’ve done as much therapy as I have.

As the responses began pouring in, my emotional state shifted again. First, relief. In truth, it felt great to have people reinforce my worth and my work. Then, anxiety, because I knew their praise wasn’t any more real than the criticism. Followed by even more self-reproach, because I was just digging myself a deeper hole. Instead of sitting with the discomfort of those negative reviews, I immediately sought external validation. Now I was at the mercy of both, blowing my self-esteem first in one direction, then the other.

I replied to everyone’s kind comments on Substack and checked Amazon one last time before I went to bed. We were up to 18 reviews, and I had edged into a 3-star average. Still nauseous, still anxious. I knew I had to revisit this whole sh*tshow—after a good night’s sleep.

“When people tell me I’ll regret this in the morning, I sleep ‘til noon.” –from the song Light Work by Prof

The morning after

The next morning, I felt much better—not because I had a few more positive Amazon reviews, but because I was ready to handle this.

I read some Byron Katie, working through her Four Questions framework (“People don’t like my book—is it true?”) and reminding myself to stay in my business. I also came across this quote of hers: “It’s not your job to like me. It’s mine.” That went on my garage whiteboard that morning.

I went back and re-read the worst reviews, because sitting with them robs them of their power. As I read, I reminded myself that reviews are not for me, and what other people think of my book is not my business.

I allowed myself to sit in how I felt about these reviews. They hurt. It didn’t feel good. I stayed with that. I had to allow for that without getting defensive, angry, or distracting myself with other people’s praise. I stayed in those feelings all day, honestly, because that’s how long it took to let them move through me.

Finally, I reminded myself that I had already decided how I felt about this book long before it was published. I know my worth. I know my talents. I know myself. And I know this book I wrote is the very best book I could have written.

I was ready to let the reviews go. I wasn’t going to stop trying to manipulate what other people saw when they came to the Amazon page. Book reviews are for the people, by the people, and I needed to let them shake out wherever they shook out.

“Stress is an alarm that lets you know you’re attaching to something not true for you.” —Byron Katie

Moving on

I hadn’t yet talked to my husband about this. (Sometimes it’s easier to talk to people on the internet than those you are closest to.) But after doing my self-work over the course of that Monday, I told Brandon what had happened. He said he could tell something was wrong, and he was sorry, because that must have sucked. Then he said, “What if you owned it, and made a video responding to it? Like Jimmy Kimmel’s ‘celebrities read mean Tweets’ segment.”

He meant, “Why don’t you clap back and call these people out.” While I probably would have made those ranty videos on Sunday (and instantly regretted it), I knew today that wasn’t the energy I wanted to bring. Instead, I thought, “Yes… but what if I used the reviews to create resources, like articles or videos to help people better understand the Whole30 program and the book?”

That was when I knew everything was okay, and I was okay. I haven’t looked at the Amazon page since.

The lesson

I learned a few lessons from this experience. First, everyone is human, and sucky things suck. Don’t beat yourself up for having an understandable response to a difficult situation.

Second, community is everything. My Substack group and Whole30 HQ team offered support, understanding, and empathy when I needed it most—on a Sunday, no less. We all need people who understand what we’re going through, and can lift us up when things feel heavy.

Third, the lure of external validation is strong and pervasive, especially online. And also, it’s never worth it, no matter how glowing the praise. Going forward, I’ll be more aware of those triggers, especially around big projects or moments. I’ll force a pause when faced with sudden discomfort. And I’ll sit with my feelings until I’m able to process them in a healthy way, seeking support (but not validation) from my community and those who love me.

It's not your job to like me. It’s mine. And I like myself very much—still.

XO, MU

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