This Is Not My Weakness: ADHD, Overstimulation, and the Fawn Reflex I’m Retiring

I’ve spent most of my life believing I had a fatal flaw: I get overstimulated, overwhelmed, and flooded fast. Noise, conflict, emotional intensity, too many moving parts — and my system scrambles. I shut down, appease, smooth things over, agree to things I don’t want, say “yeah, okay, fine” just to stop the onslaught.

For years I called that weakness.
Other people learned to call it leverage.

It isn’t.
And I’m done letting it be used that way.

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What Actually Happens in My Body

I likely have ADHD inattentive type (still exploring, but the pattern tracks). Sensory + emotional load stacks quickly:

• Competing voices, demands, or tension = cognitive overload.
• My nervous system shifts toward threat mode: racing thoughts, rising heat, narrowing focus.
• Executive function drops; conflict feels 10x louder than it is.
• My historical survival move kicks in: fawn — appease, agree, de-escalate now.

It used to keep me safer as a kid.
As an adult, it kept me controlled.

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How People Used It

My Mother

She could push conversation, emotion, money, guilt — until I tipped into overwhelm. Then she’d slide in “solutions,” bargains, pity, “I’ve always loved you” lines. When I softened, she locked the narrative: See? He’s unstable. I’m caring.

My Ex-Partner

Different flavor, similar effect. When conflict rose (especially around boundaries with my mother), she’d delay, minimize, or move forward without me — knowing I’d eventually fold rather than escalate. My dysregulation read as overreaction; her avoidance read as reasonable.

Others (neighbors, services, random authority figures)

Early interactions where I felt cornered? Same reflex. Smile, be agreeable, fix it fast. I wasn’t afraid of them. I was afraid of losing regulation in front of them — of becoming “that guy.”

When you learn that overwhelm = vulnerability = loss of power, you pre-emptively submit. That’s fawning.

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Fawn ≠ Consent

Saying “okay” to make the noise stop is not agreement.
Accepting help you didn’t ask for is not gratitude.
Being polite in the face of emotional pressure is not compliance.
Going still when you’re overloaded is not indifference.

Fawn is a trauma response.
It’s the nervous system throwing a white flag to prevent escalation — especially if, like me, you grew up with emotional volatility and actual threat (my dad could get physically abusive).

People who keep pushing after they see you flood? They’re not confused. They’re using the shutdown.

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Reframing: My Sensitivity Is Accurate Data

What I once called overreactive is actually high-signal detection:

• I register shifts in tone, tension, power, and emotional dishonesty fast.
• I can feel when someone isn’t connecting — just performing.
• I know when a boundary is about to get crossed before it happens.

My problem wasn’t sensitivity.
My problem was being trapped around people who punished me for naming what I sensed.

So I turned my radar inward and shut up.
They kept acting; I kept fawning.

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What I’m Practicing Now

These are my current, real-world moves to retire the fawn reflex and reclaim my nervous system:

1. Name My Load Early

Out loud if needed: “Too much input. I need a minute.” This interrupts the slide into collapse.

2. Physical Reset Before Response

Walk away. Splash water. Step outside. Movement resets sensory load faster than thinking does.

3. Scripted Boundary Phrases (Short = Power)

• “I’m not discussing that.”
• “No unsupervised visits.”
• “If you go around me, that’s a breach.”
• “We’ll revisit later. Conversation’s over for now.”

I don’t explain. Explanation invites debate. Debate invites overwhelm. Overwhelm reactivates fawn. Loop closed.

4. Internal Color Scale

Green = regulated.
Yellow = edging toward overload (noise, speed, conflict).
Orange = shutdown risk; pause all decisions.
Red = non-responsive fawn or anger spike; disengage completely.

5. Debrief After High-Stress Contact

What was said? What triggered spike? Where did I appease? What will I do differently next time? This turns shame into data.

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Regarding My Son

I worry he gets ignored in the other house. I worry about emotional inconsistency. I worry about the partner who doesn’t show up for his own kids. I worry about things parents are scared to say out loud.

I can’t control that home.
I can do this:

• Make my home a place where feelings land and get named.
• Tell him: “You can always tell me anything. I won’t be mad at you for the truth.”
• Model breaks: “I need a quiet 5 minutes, then I’m back.” He learns regulation by watching it.

My sensitivity — the one others used against me — is now the thing that lets me track his states and protect him. That is not weakness. That’s fatherhood.

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If You Relate

If you shut down fast, say yes when you mean no, and later wonder “Why did I agree to that?” — you may be fawning under sensory/emotional overload. You’re not weak. You’re wired to survive.

Try this:

• Track your overload cues (body heat, tight jaw, tunnel hearing).
• Pre-script stop phrases.
• Leave rooms sooner.
• Call time-outs without apology.
• Log who respects that pause — and who pushes harder. The pushers are your problem.

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Final Line

People took advantage of my overload state for years. Some still try.
I’m not broken. I’m not too sensitive.
I was unprotected.

Now I know:
My nervous system tells the truth faster than my mouth does.
My job is to listen — and protect the signal from people who would use it against me.

This is not my weakness.
It’s my edge.

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