22/02/2026
You think, and you say, that you’re fine.
That everything is under control. That you’re strong. You go, you do, you handle everything that needs to be handled.
“I can do it all. I go, and I do. I’M FINE. I manage everything perfectly,” you say. Sometimes you say it out loud, sometimes only to yourself.
Unfortunately, I have to disappoint you. I’m sorry if this brings up uncomfortable feelings.
That’s not a strength. That’s fawn, or what I call His Majesty Adaptation.
Frozen, but surviving.
On the outside, there’s a smile, you function well, you’re responsible, and you take care of everyone.
On the inside, there’s tension, hypervigilance, and you’re always scanning: is everything okay?
“Everything’s fine. Did I do everything right? I feel fine.”
You say you feel and understand yourself?
Give me fifteen minutes with you, and I will show you what you’re actually feeling… and how you don’t even know how to name it.
Fawn is often born in environments of abuse or narcissistic relationships.
Where you couldn’t fight. Couldn’t run. Couldn’t allow yourself to be weak or appear vulnerable.
So your entire internal system chose adaptation. To soothe. To apologize. To explain.
To become who you needed to be, who others wanted you to be, so there would be no threat or punishment.
What hides behind fawn?
Constant responsibility for other people’s emotions.
An automatic “I’m sorry.”
Fear of conflict.
Boundaries that dissolve the moment someone gets upset.
And that strange internal belief: if I’m just good enough, if I do everything the right way, it will be safe.
Rehearsing in your mind what you will say, how you will say it, how you will explain yourself…
Until you see that person. And then, everything disappears.
Fawn is not weak.
It’s not indecisiveness.
It’s not a lack of opinion.
It is the body’s decision to survive.
The only question is, are you still living in survival mode, even though the danger is long gone?