Authored by a fellow Psychology Today blogger whose insightful posts on the platform have collectively attracted over 1 million views, Dr. Clayton’s work explores a psychological survival mechanism that resonates deeply with contemporary audiences. Now that I am primed to recognize what fawning actually looks like in practice, such massive readership comes as no surprise. Most everyone I know fawns at least a bit in their interpersonal interactions, but I fear, upon deep reflection, that I fawn far more than many.
To understand fawning is to understand the broader spectrum of how human beings react to perceived threats in their environment. Most people are well familiar with the classic triad of trauma responses: fight, flight, and freeze. However, fawning represents the fourth “F” in this psychological framework. Defined by noted psychotherapist Pete Walker as a response to threat by becoming more appealing to the threat itself, fawning is an instinctive survival strategy. Internally, the psychological and emotional experience of fawning feels precisely like making myself as small as possible to avoid conflict or danger.
This internal reality presents a fascinating paradox when compared to my physical presence. Although I am quite a bit taller than the average woman and was once referred to as “formidable” by an old online dating prospect, I often feel remarkably small on the inside. That dichotomy has deep roots. I grew up in an emotionally and physically abusive household, an environment where my initial biological efforts at fighting back, fleeing the scene, or freezing in place consistently resulted in painful, punishing outcomes from my caregivers.
In such a volatile domestic setting, children quickly learn that standard defense mechanisms fail or exacerbate danger. Consequently, it wasn’t until I was well into adulthood that I fully realized I could successfully defuse conflict, manage dangerous emotional climates, and protect myself by accommodating the interests of others entirely at the expense of my own. Looking back with the clarity that time and psychological education provide, I can now see the steep, unsustainable price I paid for keeping the peace.
By fawning, I seemed to derive positive regard, approval, and safety from other people. While this accommodating persona seemed to work effectively in budding romantic relationships during my younger years, I soon lost complete sight of my own needs, boundaries, and desires. Pleasing others gradually became second nature to me, manifesting seamlessly at home, in academic settings, and eventually in professional environments. As I ran myself ragged fulfilling every whim and want of the people around me, I slowly lost my voice, sacrificed my autonomy, and chipped away at my backbone.
My lifelong pattern of fawning reached its absolute acme during contentious divorce negotiations over a decade ago. While I had initially hoped for an amicable settlement based fairly on our respective circumstances and contributions, I found myself on the verge of acquiescing to a lopsided property agreement simply to avoid an extended battle. Recognizing my anxiety spiking, I got scared and wisely took a few days to step back and regroup. Thanks to the invaluable support and guidance of a friend with serious financial chops, I soon formulated, polished, and presented my ex-partner with my absolute best and final offer. That proposal pencilled out equitably and correctly for me while impacting him only minimally. Then, in a pivotal departure from my lifelong habits, I stopped talking and simply waited for a response.
In those long, agonizing moments of silence that followed, I could almost feel my metaphorical backbone regenerating itself from the inside out. I breathed deeply, grounding myself in my body, and rested comfortably in the quiet space of the room. For the first time in memory, I did not feel small. Instead, I found my core integrity, along with a fierce side of personal grit that I had long ago surrendered to the altar of fawning. I am proud to say that I held my ground and prevailed.
Today, I find myself in a stable, years-long partnership founded on a mutual, unwavering commitment to honesty and deep respect. Though my partner and I possess different fawning styles and distinct backgrounds, each of us is actively learning to identify, confront, and revise our own ingrained behaviors. Every single time I clearly articulate my authentic needs in our relationship, I feel tangibly less anxious afterward. And whenever I inevitably slip backward and resort to old fawning habits, I manage to catch myself quickly, take a deep, centering breath, and try again.
