These 12 ‘Normal’ Traits Are Actually Childhood Survival Mechanisms

Tell me if this sounds like you. You grew up in a dysfunctional home. To survive, you built your whole identity around the qualities others praised — being independent, responsible, always strong. I was exactly that. Maybe you are, too. But here’s the truth: those traits kept your spirit intact in a childhood that constantly felt dangerous. They saved you then, but now they’ve calcified into survival patterns that keep you stuck, disconnected, and wondering why your life always seems so hard. If this is you, you know exactly what I’m talking about. You get praised for being dependable, for being able to handle anything. You never ask for help so things keep from falling apart. You’re the glue. Right? Outwardly you look tough, yet inside you’re running on fumes. You lie awake at night, anxious, wondering why no one shows up to help. You eventually feel bitter because the love you give rarely comes back the same way. You’re exhausted from carrying everything, and you don’t know how to stop. That’s not strength. Those are old survival strategies wired into your nervous system, draining your body. People offer simple advice like “just relax” or “just breathe.” You already know that — it doesn’t help.
I was the oldest daughter in a family of four kids. Maybe you recognize that role. Many eldest daughters end up at the extreme end of the “competence” survival spectrum. Someone had to keep things together. That was me. I felt I had to look fine on the outside, make sure the other kids appeared okay, and hide what was really happening at home. It was too shameful to expose. I never imagined anyone else could do it. I didn’t even know if it was possible. Yes, maybe someone else could handle it. But in my twenties I felt like an eighty-year-old because I was still doing everything. Honestly, today I feel younger than I did forty years ago. When I was 21, I smoked two packs a day. I survived on coffee and Snickers bars. I weighed 107 pounds at 5’6″. I was so thin. Every shift at the sandwich shop I worked, every paper I had to write, every bill I had to pay — it felt like I was barely going to make it. I was always sprinting for the finish line, like wolves were on my heels. My back ached. I had migraines. I could not sleep. I was utterly lonely.
Children raised amid abuse and neglect don’t get to be children. They invent alternative strategies to get through each day: they figure out what keeps the peace, what avoids punishment, what lets them survive with as little loss as possible. Those solutions can seem perfectly normal from the outside. Teachers, relatives, neighbors might even praise you. “Oh, she’s so mature,” or “she’s so easygoing, so polite.” That was me. There are positives, yes, but nobody sees that you’re hurting or that you need help. And God knows you don’t ask. Asking for help felt shameful. Maybe you know that feeling. But as adults, those same defenses no longer protect us. They isolate us, leave us cut off, and keep us off-balance. They deplete our energy and make relationships harder than they need to be.
I think I was very pretty then, but deeply anxious about everything. Someone once said I was like a razor — very sharp, intimidating. I now know I had post-traumatic stress from all the childhood traumas I endured. If you want to check whether some of your symptoms are related to trauma, there’s a worksheet I made — it’s at the top of the description under this video. You can click and download it for free.
Let’s talk about survival mechanisms. I want to share them because these are what may keep you trapped in the symptoms of old trauma. They feel normal, but they’re outdated behaviors that hold you back. First: extreme self-reliance. You refuse help and keep people at a distance. It made sense when relying on others in childhood only led to harm, so doing everything yourself felt safer. But as an adult, it leaves you alone. If you see yourself here, begin with small steps: ask for one thing, then let yourself sit with the discomfort instead of shutting others out. See what happens. Let yourself experience it.
Second: hyper-responsibility. You carry everything at work, at home, in relationships. Maybe you did it as a child because if you didn’t, everything around you would fall apart. Taking on others’ burdens was the only way to survive. Now it exhausts you. Try letting one thing fall. Notice the world doesn’t end when you’re not the one holding it together. In fact, sometimes others enjoy pitching in.
Third: people-pleasing. You avoid conflict by always agreeing, smoothing things over, anticipating what others want. It may look kind, but underneath it’s fear of rejection and a form of caretaking as control. If you grew up with psychological illness around you, keeping parents from getting upset was survival. Practice saying “no” — even in small ways — without over-explaining. Allow yourself to feel guilty instead of rushing to fix it. Just feel it. It’s not as catastrophic as it seems.
Fourth: perfectionism. I used to deny I had this, but I did. If mistakes weren’t safe in childhood — whether because of punishment or because no one showed how to repair things — you learned to overwork, over-prepare, and only deliver flawless results. That perfection protected you then, but now it leads to burnout, isolation, and distress. Try finishing something intentionally at 70% and leave it. Learn it’s safe to stop or to be imperfect.
Fifth: numbing. People admire calmness in a crisis, but that “calm” is often a freeze response in your nervous system that prevents full feeling. That numbness might have been a blessing when feelings were overwhelming or dangerous, but it also robs you of intimacy and joy. Change this gently. You don’t have to flood yourself. Start small: in private, name aloud what you feel in the moment — even one word.
Sixth: work addiction. You bury yourself in tasks and busyness to avoid anxiety or loneliness. Others call it drive or ambition, but it’s avoidance. If this is you, stop for thirty minutes without phone or tasks or distractions, and see what shows up when you aren’t constantly busy.
Seventh: avoiding conflict. You may pride yourself on being easygoing, but what that often masks is fear of anger. In childhood, conflict might have meant violence, abandonment, or humiliation. As an adult, avoiding conflict keeps you silent and cut off. Try voicing one honest opinion you’d normally hold back.
Eighth: extreme self-sufficiency. You never delegate, you don’t trust, you won’t open up. It looks like strength but it’s fear. Shift by allowing someone else to take one thing this week. Don’t micromanage it. Delegate and let it go.
Ninth: chronic caretaking. You measure your worth by solving other people’s problems. Maybe you started this as a child who was overlooked, and being useful was how you had a role. Now it drains you and breeds resentment. Step back from one problem that isn’t yours to fix. Let it be.
Tenth: humor and charm as armor. You’re the funny one, the entertainer. Jokes defuse situations and keep others from seeing what you really feel. That can be fun, but if humor is a constant shield, it keeps you hidden. Next time you’re tempted to use a joke to cover up, try answering seriously. Let someone glimpse you without a mask.
Eleventh: tolerating bad behavior. You call it loyalty, but often it’s ignoring red flags because that’s what you learned you had to do as a child to stay connected to people who hurt you. As an adult, this keeps you stuck in unhealthy relationships. Start by writing three behaviors you will no longer accept and commit to enforcing those boundaries.
Twelfth: perpetual motion. You never stop moving. Stillness terrifies you, so constant activity fills the void. The most effective tool I’ve found for this emptiness is a pair of simple daily practices I call my daily practice. They’re very simple, but powerful — naming and releasing scary thoughts and the resentment that builds up in your head, which otherwise clouds everything. These practices gently reduce trauma symptoms and allow more positive, peaceful feelings to fill the mental space. You can let go of grief. You can vent your anger. You can see what truly bothers you and take practical steps to address it. Nothing feels as overwhelming when it isn’t all bundled up in your mind. I strongly encourage trying this daily practice. It saved my life. I’ll include a link to it in the description as well.
Do you see the description? People always say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” There are lines of words under the video. If you see two lines, those are the two links I made for you. You can also click the small “More” and then “Show more” to expand the description fully. You’ll find a range of resources I offer that you may find helpful — some free tools, some paid programs.
So those are the 12 traits. What I described aren’t random quirks; they were logical survival patterns. I’m glad you learned them because they helped you survive, but now they isolate you from what you most need: love, healing, and meaning. None of these traits are the whole of who you are. They are adaptations of your nervous system to growing up without protection. They leave you depleted and vulnerable. They are all driven by fear and resentment — thoughts and feelings you can face and release. You might have a few of them. There is room here for something new: insight, clarity, and the energy to pursue it. This is how you reclaim parts of your life that trauma submerged.
You have figured out how to survive a childhood harder than most people understand. Most people don’t get it — survivors do. But survival is the floor, not the ceiling. You don’t have to live each day as if you’re preparing for danger. You can begin to free yourself now. You are not defined by what happened to you, nor limited by how it affected you. You are meant for far more than that, and it’s time to take steps toward the good life that belongs to you. If you liked this video, there’s another one you’ll like right here. See you soon. What’s happening now is your behavior. The more pain you carried in the past, the more likely you are to repeat self-harming patterns today. [music]