The Missing “F” of Fight, Flight, and Freeze
Have you heard of fawning before.
Most women haven’t.
But in my experience, it is one of the most common ways women’s nervous systems learn to survive.
You have probably heard of fight, flight, and freeze.
The survival responses our bodies have used for thousands of years.
But there is another one.
Fawn.
Fawning is often described as an appeasement based trauma response, where a person moves toward pleasing, soothing, or aligning with others to stay safe (Walker, 2013).
Fawning is an adaptive survival strategy.
Something the body develops to keep us safe.
For many women, fighting or running was not always an option.
Physically, socially, or relationally.
So the body finds another way.
A very intelligent one.
One that draws on our strength in social engagement.
Instead of fighting or escaping, and before going into freeze.
We move toward.
To appease.
To soften.
To tend.
To befriend.
To reduce the threat by staying connected.
In the women I have worked with, and in my own experience, this can look like people pleasing.
Saying yes when your body is saying no.
Taking responsibility for other people’s emotions.
Trying to keep the peace at all costs.
Being highly attuned to everyone else’s emotional state.
Constantly scanning for shifts and adjusting yourself to regulate others, in a state of hypervigilance.
I call myself a reformed people pleaser.
I was not immune to this survival strategy.
In fact, I used it for most of my life, often unconsciously.
It helped me keep functioning.
But it also led to burnout.
More times than I can count.
This is not weakness.
From a nervous system perspective, it is a very intelligent survival response.
One that has kept many women safe.
And functioning.
But there is a cost.
Because fawning is often not recognised for what it is.
In many systems, including legal systems, it can be misunderstood as consent.
And within a broader patriarchal culture, it can become internalised as shame.
“I should have said no.”
“I should have done something different.”
“I shouldn’t have stayed.”
“Why am I being nice to someone who is disrespecting me?”
From my perspective, being “nice” is often a fawn response.
It is shaped by shoulds.
By expectations.
By a need to manage how we are perceived.
It is outward.
And often comes at the cost of ourselves.
This has also been described as a protective, fear driven form of compliance that can mimic genuine kindness (CPTSD Foundation).
We have been taught to believe that to be kind is putting others first.
However, kindness is different.
Kindness comes from the heart.
It includes you.
It does not require you to abandon yourself.
It does not look like over giving.
Over extending.
Allowing yourself to say yes when your body is saying no.
“My favourite quote sums this up
The kindest people have boundaries of steel.”
When I first heard that, something shifted inside me.
Something softened.
And slowly, I began to learn what that looks like in practice.
It wasn’t until I began to notice my body’s responses to people, places, and requests.
That things started to shift.
If I said yes when my body was saying no, I would notice.
My jaw clench.
Holding back what I really wanted to say.
My shoulders lift and round forward.
A subtle shrinking, making myself smaller.
My head bow slightly.
My stomach pull in.
Bracing for impact.
But when I said no, when my body said no.
There was no bracing.
No tension.
My shoulders would settle back.
My chest felt more open.
My breath softened.
There was a sense of grounding.
And it was in noticing this difference.
That I realised.
I had been abandoning myself to survive.
From there, I began learning to listen.
And to respond.
Rather than react.
I didn’t need to analyse it.
Explain it.
Or justify it to others.
I began to trust that my body held a truth.
Even when my mind didn’t yet understand.
And what I discovered was.
When I listened.
I felt more regulated.
And over time, that became a different kind of safety.
One where I didn’t have to lose myself to stay connected.
And now I can say, wholeheartedly, that this is my truth.
Compassion starts with the self.
And then it extends outward.
Like ripples in a pond.
They don’t move inward.
Only outward.
Moving gently.
Slowly expanding.
Touching everything around them.
You might notice where this shows up for you
Where your body tightens when you say yes
Where something in you goes quiet or pulls back
Where you feel the need to keep the peace, even at your own expense
And you might also begin to notice the moments where something in you says no
Not loudly
Not forcefully
But quietly
In the body
You don’t have to act on it yet
Just begin by noticing
Gently
Without judgement
If this resonates, this is the kind of work we can explore together
Gently
At your pace
Learning how to stay connected to yourself
Without abandoning who you are
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References
Walker, P. (2013). Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving.
CPTSD Foundation. (n.d.). The “nice” response: A protective, fear driven form of compliance.