Fawn Response and Reclaiming Connection
🧬 What No One Noticed — But You Are Now
🫧 You grew up with invisible feelings, so you longed to be seen.
Your lineage learned to survive by hiding truth — now we’re remembering how to name it, without shrinking.
🛒 "No big deal, just crying in aisle 7 because I never learned how to have needs."
🪻 You were parentified, so closeness got tangled with merging.
We come from people who stayed fused for safety. Now we’re learning: it’s safe to belong and still be ourselves.
📡 "Me: I need space. Also me: Where are you? Are we good?"
🌊 You didn’t get boundaries, so every relationship feels like too much — or not enough.
Your ancestors couldn’t afford personal space. Now we’re discovering what it means to take up sacred room.
📱 "I love boundaries. I keep them in my Notes app and forget to use them."
🌈 You didn’t see emotional regulation modeled, so you wait for one person to fix it all.
Before us, silence or collapse was the only option. We’re choosing to stay — and feel.
🧃 "Just looking for someone to co-regulate me, raise my inner child, and grab oat milk."
🧩 You were trained to fawn, so you believe one person can be your everything.
They called it loyalty. We call it overgiving. And now, we’re choosing truth, even when it’s quiet.
🤖 "I don’t need them. I just need them to never leave, understand me, and fix my nervous system."
🔥 Inconsistency became chemistry — because rhythm was never modeled.
We were raised on survival. Now we’re craving peace that doesn’t disappear.
🫀 "It’s not a trauma bond, it’s just... oh. Wait. Yeah, it is."
📖 You weren’t believed — so you journal now like it’s your life force.
Before, no one listened. Now, we do.
🖊️ "Journaling: where I remind myself I’m not crazy — just wildly under-supported."
🧘♀️ You were told to shrink. Now? You’re practicing expansion.
They feared visibility. We’re letting ourselves be seen anyway.
🥭 "Just trying to be low-maintenance, high-vibe, mysterious, and healed. Is that...a lot?"
🫀 This Is My Story
I learned how to fawn before I could write my name. I grew up in a violent home, and when things got intense, I would faint. For years, I thought I was weak. But those spells were my body’s last-resort cry for safety.
Hospitals were the only place people paused. The only place I was tended to. So my body did what it needed to do to get seen.
I don’t faint anymore — but I’ve disappeared in other ways. I’ve gone silent, gone small, gone along. Just to keep things calm.
Now, I catch it. I feel the urge to vanish — and I say: We don’t do this anymore.
It’s not perfect. But it’s progress. It’s how we stop outsourcing our worth. It’s how we begin to build many good, kind connections — not just one impossible fix-it person.
I’m not here for rescue fantasies anymore. I’m building something steadier. And that includes me. 🥣
Because Your Spirit Didn’t Come Here to Settle.
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