On a recent long-distance road trip, a casual decision to pass the miles with an audiobook unexpectedly transformed into a deep, introspective examination of personal history and relationship dynamics. As the vehicle rolled down the highway, the first title that popped up on the audio player was Fawning: Why the Need to Please Makes Us Lose Ourselves and How to Find Our Way Back, written by psychotherapist and Psychology Today blogger Dr. Ingrid Clayton. Over the course of the next several hundred miles, the narrative struck such a profound chord that the listeners repeatedly found themselves nodding, pausing the narration, and discussing how each of them exhibits fawning behavior in their daily lives.
Written by a prominent voice in the mental health space whose online posts have attracted over one million views, Dr. Clayton’s work explores a psychological phenomenon that often flies under the radar compared to its more famous counterparts. Now that this reader is primed to recognize what fawning looks like in real time, such massive readership comes as no surprise. Most people within social circles appear to fawn at least a bit, though the author fears they may fawn more than many.
To understand fawning, it helps to place it within the broader framework of how human beings respond to perceived threats. While popular psychology has long recognized the classic triad of "fight, flight, and freeze," trauma experts identify fawning as the fourth "F" in this physiological and psychological repertoire. Defined by psychotherapist Pete Walker as a response to threat by becoming more appealing to the threat, fawning manifests internally as an overwhelming compulsion to make oneself small, accommodating, and utterly agreeable in order to avert danger or conflict.
This internal experience can exist in stark contrast to a person’s physical reality or how they are perceived by the outside world. Although the author is quite a bit taller than the average woman and was once referred to as "formidable" by an old online dating prospect, they frequently feel quite small in interpersonal dynamics. This disconnect is rooted in early life experiences. Growing up in an emotionally and physically abusive household, the author discovered that traditional defensive responses—such as fighting back, fleeing the situation, or freezing in place—consistently resulted in painful outcomes delivered by caregivers.
It wasn’t until adulthood that a critical realization dawned: conflict could be defused and personal safety could be secured by accommodating the interests of others at the direct expense of one’s own needs. In the wake of that realization, however, came the understanding of the steep price paid for keeping the peace.
By fawning, individuals often manage to derive a fleeting sense of positive regard from others. While this strategy seemed to work effectively in budding romantic relationships during early adulthood, the long-term consequences proved detrimental. The author soon lost sight of their own needs entirely. Pleasing others gradually became second nature at home, at school, and eventually in the professional arena. As they ran themselves ragged fulfilling the wants and demands of everyone around them, they steadily lost their voice and chipped away at their own backbone.
The peak of this self-abandonment occurred over a decade ago during contentious divorce negotiations. While the initial hope had been to secure an amicable settlement based on respective financial circumstances, the author’s deeply ingrained fawning response nearly led them to acquiesce to a lopsided property agreement that heavily favored the opposing party. Recognizing the grip of fear, the author paused and took a few days to regroup. Thanks to the timely support and financial acumen of a trusted friend, they were soon able to step back, reassess the situation, and present the ex-spouse with a best and final offer that penciled out equitably while impacting the other party only minimally. Following that presentation, the author did something entirely new: they stopped talking and simply waited in the silence.
In those long moments of quiet tension, the author could almost feel their physical and emotional backbone regenerating itself. Breathing deeply, they rested in the quiet space rather than shrinking away from it. In that pivotal moment, they did not feel small. Instead, they rediscovered their personal integrity, alongside a hard-earned grit that had long ago been surrendered to the impulse to fawn. Looking back on the ordeal, the author is proud to report that they prevailed.
Today, life looks markedly different. The author is in a long-term, multi-year partnership founded on a mutual commitment to honesty and respect. Although the partners possess different fawning styles, both individuals are actively learning to identify, understand, and revise their own behavioral patterns. Every single time the author articulates their personal needs, the lingering anxiety that once followed diminishes noticeably. And when the old habit of fawning occasionally resurfaces, they quickly catch themselves, take a deep breath, and try again.