Note: Just because I fawn doesn’t mean I don’t make mistakes. It means I’ve learned to default to “taking care of myself” because I’ve stopped trusting that people care enough to reassure me with kindness. I dedicate this post to a dear friend who also feels the loneliness that comes with fawning. I only wish I had the answers to help anyone reading this find healing and trust.

Fawning. I know I mention what it is without explicitly stating the word, but I realize now that to continue my journey in a healthy way, I need to process the trauma that has led to it. Fawning is a trauma response where one is agreeable to the other party to keep them calm and not leave you, even if you feel unfulfilled in any way, shape, or form in the relationship.

Many autistic people have something called black-and-white thinking. It's not so much a lack of ability to see moral shades of gray (I feel my ability to see all sides of an argument is actually very keen), but a strong moral compass built by observing and scripting behaviors. This leads to a heightened sense of unfairness. Seeing something we have programmed as an "unfair" thing can make us anxious, angry, and upset. Depending on the severity of the injustice, it can even lead to a meltdown. For example, in my home, I often feel overwhelmed by unfair task allotment. While this might irritate anyone, for me, the perceived injustice triggers intense anxiety or even physical discomfort.

But the world and relationships are not a pie that one can slice in a way that everyone gets their fair share. In most interactions, someone will always feel like they care, do, or feel more. Many times, I was in what I considered to be "one-sided relationships," and it played out in strange ways because there is no such thing as a perfectly equal relationship in any sphere of life. Whether it is work, romance, or friendship, the outcome is often the same.

Either I run away from a relationship because I feel my autistic traits limit me to the point where I cannot "lift my weight," or I end up masking to the point where I am simply doing what the other person wants and expects from me. In the former case, I might avoid friends because I am distracted, tired, or isolating, leaving them feeling unsupported. In the latter case, I would eventually feel the unfairness bother me to the point that I gently pointed out a scenario that hurt me. However, in the past, doing this led to horrible arguments.

Do you know what it's like to have a neurotype that is associated with having "rigid" or "weird" needs? People often take advantage of the fact that we question ourselves and use it to gaslight us. These arguments leave us empty, feeling like brutes for stating our needs. I taught myself to apologize instead...

"I'm sorry you didn't notice (ignored) that this hurt me and failed to have a healthy conversation so everyone feels they got a chance to discuss their needs. Since I chose to be hurt, I will isolate to not burden you with my needs."

And when the person responds with something like...

"Oh kk, cool ttyl"

...instead of...

"Hey, let's talk over how you felt and what we can do to honor it."

...one really does the "fight, flight, or fawn" response. Me even blaming myself for feeling hurt is fawning behavior. Enough fawning will make me feel hopeless, eventually running away because I see the pattern over and over again. Sometimes I argue, sometimes I fear that having conversations about relationship needs are not a social norm, and sometimes... I simply walk away.

The issue with fawning is that one learns to:

This is the last paragraph... and I apologize, but I have nary a solution. But WHEN I do, I shall share a happier conclusion than the current reality of realizing, over and over, that I fell into a fawning pattern. For now, simply knowing that I fawn—and not blaming myself for having needs—is a small victory in itself, don’t you think?

"A healthy relationship is a feast of affection/giving for both people; not one receiving crumbs and trying to convince themselves it's enough."
– Shannon Thomas