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The Fawn Response: When Peace Comes at the Cost of Yourself

  • Writer: Nicole France
    Nicole France
  • Oct 16
  • 3 min read

(Part 3 of 4 in the Fight, Flight & Fawn Series)


woman sitting at window

The Need to Keep the Peace


The fawn response is the quietest of them all — and often the most misunderstood.

It’s the instinct to keep the peace, to smooth things over, to make yourself smaller so no one feels uncomfortable.


Therapist Pete Walker, who coined the term fawn response, describes it as “people-pleasing to avoid conflict or trauma.” It’s what happens when your nervous system believes that harmony equals safety.


For many of us, fawning doesn’t come from weakness — it comes from experience. When you’ve learned that love or stability depended on how well you could please others, self-sacrifice starts to feel like survival.


How the Fawn Response Affected Me


This one hit close to home.

For years, I thought being kind, flexible, and understanding made me easy to love — and in many ways, those qualities are strengths.


But I began to notice a painful pattern: I was constantly overextending myself to keep everyone else comfortable, even when it cost me my own peace.


I’ve said “it’s okay” when it wasn’t.

I’ve apologized just to end the tension.

I’ve minimized my feelings because someone else’s discomfort felt heavier than my own.


For me, the fawn response wasn’t about being fake — it was about being afraid.

Afraid of losing people.

Afraid of being misunderstood.Afraid that being honest about what I needed would make me “too much.”


But the truth is, every time I chose peace over authenticity, I created a quiet war within myself.


What the Fawn Response Looks Like


Fawning can appear as:

  • Saying “yes” when you want to say “no.”

  • Apologizing excessively or taking blame to avoid conflict.

  • Avoiding setting boundaries out of fear of rejection.

  • Dismissing your feelings to keep others happy.

  • Seeking validation through being needed.


Fawn says: “If I can just keep everyone happy, I’ll be safe.”But safety built on self-abandonment isn’t safety — it’s silence.


Why We Fawn


According to Dr. Gabor Maté, “When we have to choose between attachment and authenticity, we will always choose attachment — until it hurts too much.”


The fawn response begins as a way to stay connected.


If you grew up in an environment where love felt conditional — based on behavior, performance, or keeping the peace — your body learned that blending in was safer than standing out.


But over time, that coping mechanism becomes a pattern of self-betrayal. You start to forget what you actually want, need, or feel.


How to Heal the Fawn Response


Healing the fawn response takes courage because it means risking discomfort to reclaim yourself.


  1. Notice your patterns. When you feel the urge to appease, pause and ask, “Am I doing this out of love or fear?”

  2. Practice small no’s. Start by saying no to things that don’t align with your values, even in low-stakes situations.

  3. Reconnect with your needs. Journal, pray, or reflect on what you want — without immediately considering how it affects others.

  4. Validate yourself. You don’t need external approval to know you’re worthy. Your truth doesn’t need permission to exist.


You can still be kind and compassionate — but not at the cost of your peace.


If You Forget the Steps


When I slip back into fawning, I recognize the signs quickly: over-explaining, over-apologizing, or convincing myself that “it’s not a big deal.”

In those moments, I pause and remind myself:

“I can be loving without losing myself.”

If you find yourself defaulting to people-pleasing, don’t shame yourself — it’s an old form of protection. You were just trying to keep the peace in a world that once made you feel unsafe.


The difference now is that you know peace can exist with boundaries.


The Heartfully Nicole Reflection


The fawn response taught me that saying “yes” to everyone else often meant saying “no” to myself.


It’s taken time, but I’ve learned that love rooted in self-abandonment isn’t love — it’s fear disguised as kindness.


Real peace doesn’t come from being agreeable; it comes from being authentic.

From knowing that your needs matter just as much as anyone else’s.

From learning that you can disappoint someone and still be a good person.


Healing the fawn response isn’t about hardening — it’s about coming home to yourself.

 
 
 

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