The Psychological Mirror: Why We Insult Others

Disclaimer: I am not a licensed therapist. This reflection is based on real life experience, observation and personal introspection.

During my time working in the corporate world, I was called many names.

Perhaps it was because I did not usually participate in the gossip pantry. Speaking badly about a colleague behind their back was never something I wanted to do.

I was also insinuated to have cheated the system by getting someone else to do my work. 

I have never done that. But that accusation made me realise that what you do matters less than the narratives others build about you. When someone wants to discredit you, they don’t just attack your work—they attack your character, turning your own success into a story of deception.

And more importantly, anyone who understands business knows that investors do not simply look at a financial model and say, “Wow, I get it. Let’s invest.”

A model does not sell itself.

A model has to be explained.

It has to be made sensible.

It has to be translated into a story, a thesis, a risk profile and an opportunity.

Numbers matter, but numbers alone do not persuade. Someone still has to communicate the value behind them.

At the time, my colleague’s accusation bothered me. Not because I believed it, but because I could not understand why someone would say something so specific with such confidence, especially when he was wrong.

Looking back, I realised something important.

It was not me they were describing.

They were describing themselves.

The Anatomy of an Insult

Have you ever noticed that the very thing people use to insult you is often the very thing they are doing, hiding, fearing or projecting?

The “funny jokes.”

The casual comments.

The subtle digs.

The direct attacks.

The insults.

And, if I am honest, the insults I have lashed out at others.

Because when I lashed something out, it was rarely about the other person.

It was usually about my own insecurity.

My own fear.

My own wound.

My own need to defend an image of myself.

My own need to control an environment I thought I was entitled to control.

That is the interesting thing about insults. They are often presented as judgments, but many times, they are admissions

Because how could someone recognise wrongdoing so quickly if that thought had never lived somewhere inside them?

At the same time, when you receive an insult, perhaps you should feel a little proud of yourself.

Not because being insulted is pleasant.

But because it may mean the other person has started to see you as a competitor.

People do not usually insult what they consider irrelevant.

They insult what irritates them.

They insult what exposes them.

They insult what threatens the image they have built of themselves.

They insult what they cannot easily control.

So where do all these insults come from?

Often, from a deeply insecure place.

But I do not blame the people either.

Many people are insecure because they were made to feel insecure a long time ago.

In childhood.

From people they thought were their family.

Their friends.

Their place of safety.

But perhaps those people are not fully to blame either.

Because they too may have been part of a bigger system of being told they were not good enough.

So is there a solution?

Insults are rarely about you. They are inherited language, recycled wounds, and old insecurities wearing new faces. Once you see the projection for what it is, you stop taking the insult personally—and start seeing the other person with clarity.