Fight or flight – How to Turn it down

We hear a lot about our innate fight-or-flight system and how our modern, busy lives often stimulate this primitive response. Originally, it served as a protective function of the brain and body: to keep us safe from immediate dangers such as bears and other megafauna.

Deep within the brain, the hypothalamus co-ordinates the brain–body connection and triggers the adrenal glands to release cortisol. This forms the basis of the fight-or-flight response. More recently, research into our stress circuits has expanded our understanding beyond just fight or flight. We now talk about responses such as freeze (shutdown) and fawn (people-pleasing, camouflaging or blending in). These patterns can be particularly relevant when considering how neurodivergent people respond to stress and challenge, sometimes developing coping behaviours that unintentionally work against them – particularly in the workplace and at school. This is a recurring pattern I see frequently in my work with clients.

The amygdala: two small, almond-shaped structures within the emotional (limbic) part of the brain – also plays a key role. When activated, it signals the body to release adrenaline and cortisol, increasing heart rate and preparing us to act or move.

A book that I highly recommend is The Evolving Brain by Dr Paul Goldsmith. He explores the idea that our ancient brains have not adapted particularly well to modern life. With constant stimulation, information and pressure, many of us spend much of our time in a low-level state of fight or flight. When this switch remains “on” most of the time, it can lead to chronic anxiety, stress and eventually burnout.

Dr Goldsmith also makes an interesting point: evolution designed us to persist, not necessarily to be happy. This challenges the common belief that we should always be striving for happiness. Perhaps it is more helpful to see happiness as a temporary state, like all emotions - something to notice without judgement rather than constantly chase.

Another book that resonated with me recently was Addicted to Anxiety by Owen O’Kane. It offers practical ways to rethink our relationship with anxiety. Instead of trying to numb it, suppress it or ignore it, he suggests learning to listen to it. Anxiety, in the right context, can be a signal – something that can guide us if we learn how to turn down its volume rather than silence it entirely.

I think about this often because, once, listening to my anxiety quite literally saved my child’s life.

In 2019 my one-year-old son began showing small changes that gradually became harder to ignore. His nappies were leaking, he became unsettled, and gradually he stopped eating altogether. He was waking very early in the morning and not going back to sleep, yet during the day he seemed unusually tired and slept much more than usual.

My instincts kept telling me something wasn’t right.

Over a few days my anxiety grew. Casper, who was normally energetic, began wanting to sleep even shortly after waking. One afternoon he fell asleep on me on the tube and stayed asleep for most of the journey home. When we got off, his breathing suddenly changed – deep and laboured for a moment before settling again. I nearly called an ambulance, but convinced myself it must be something harmless. I now know that this breathing pattern is called Kussmaul breathing, a classic sign of diabetic ketoacidosis (DKA).

That evening I continued searching for answers. On a parenting forum I came across a comment from another parent that stopped me: “I even had him tested for Type 1 diabetes.”

I looked up the symptoms and realised Casper matched almost all of them. What I didn’t yet understand was that he was already in diabetic ketoacidosis and his life was in danger.

Eventually the anxiety became impossible to ignore and I called NHS 111. It took a while to finally get to hospital as the GP was unconvinced, telling us that he looked “too well” to have Type 1 Diabetes, and diagnosed him with tonsilitis instead. When we finally did get to intensive care, doctors noted that we had brought him in “just in time.” If you haven’t heard of Lyla’s Law and potential changes to diagnose Type 1 Diabetes before it becomes an emergency, please watch this recent parliamentary debate.

I remember the final moments before everything changed. I thought we were going home. Casper, who loved learning new words at the time, was standing by the window while I tried to teach him the word “windowsill”.

My young toddler had just been diagnosed with a chronic health condition I knew nothing about. His life was in danger and everything was urgent. Yet the anxiety that had been building for days suddenly settled even thought the situation was incredibly traumatic. This was because my task was complete, my anxiety was there to protect my child, and that is the true purpose of the fight-or-flight response.

So how do we turn it down?

The problem is that our brains cannot always distinguish between a genuine threat and the pressures of modern life. Deadlines, overflowing inboxes, social expectations and constant notifications can keep our nervous system stuck in a low-level state of alarm.

For many neurodivergent people, including those with ADHD, this can be even more pronounced. When the brain is constantly scanning for danger, overwhelm arrives quickly. Procrastination, avoidance, shutdown or people-pleasing are often not character flaws – they are nervous system responses.

The goal is not to eliminate the fight-or-flight response. As my experience taught me, it can be lifesaving.

The goal is to regulate it.

That means learning how to recognise when the alarm is useful, and when it is simply stuck in the “on” position.

This is where coaching can help. In my work as an ADHD coach, I support my clients in moving out of constant survival mode and into a state where the brain can think, plan and respond more calmly. Sometimes that starts with very small things: noticing physical cues of stress, slowing the breath, creating clearer structures around work or daily life, or understanding the triggers that push the nervous system into overwhelm.

Over time, these tools help people develop something powerful: the ability to pause before reacting, to turn down the noise of anxiety, and to respond more intentionally.

Because fight or flight is not the enemy, it is an alarm system.

And like any alarm, it works best when we know when to listen to it – and when it is safe to switch it off.