the fawn response disguised as ambition

I used to think I was just… driven.

Obsessed with getting it right.
Eager to take on more. Quick to fix. Faster to say yes.

But underneath the pace, the polish, the good intentions —
something didn’t feel like choice.

I wasn’t showing up out of clarity.
I was showing up so no one would leave.

That’s the fawn response.
It’s not fight. It’s not flight. It’s not freeze.

It’s becoming whoever you need to be to stay safe.
Saying “of course” when your body’s screaming “no.”
Solving problems that aren’t yours, hoping that buys you a little love.

For years, it looked like success.
High-functioning, “go-to” energy.

But it was built on fear of disapproval. Fear of conflict.
Fear of being too much and not enough in the same breath.

And the cost?
I didn’t know what I wanted anymore.
My ambition wasn’t mine — it was a mask I wore to survive rooms that never felt safe.

So I started to slow down.
To ask:
Am I doing this to be seen? Or to disappear inside usefulness?

And that’s where the rebuild began.

Not with burnout.
With realizing:
I was never lazy. I was exhausted from trying to earn safety.

✧ lived this too? read: [when familiar things start to feel wrong → dissolving world post]

quiet prompt:
What version of you did you build to keep peace in the room? Is she still in charge?