I first heard the term “fight or flight” from my child.

At the time, we had been having some difficult interactions around school. I was reminding, encouraging, and sometimes pushing. He became impatient and emotional. I felt hurt, sad, and exhausted. Eventually, I decided it might be better for me to stop talking so much and pull away for a while.

At first, I thought I was simply protecting my own emotional wellbeing and preventing more conflict. But later, when our relationship was in a better place, my child told me that I had been going into “fight or flight.”

That caught my attention.

From his perspective, sometimes I fought: I pushed, argued, or tried harder to get my point across. And sometimes I fled: I became quiet, distant, and emotionally unavailable. What surprised me even more was that he recognized similar reactions in himself. He had learned about fight or flight while trying to understand and help himself, and then he shared that understanding with me.

So I started learning too.

Fight or flight is our body’s natural stress response. When we perceive a threat, our nervous system prepares us to confront it or get away from it. The “threat” doesn’t always have to be physical. Stress and emotional conflict can activate this response too. When that happens, it can become much harder to have the thoughtful, connected conversation we intended to have.

I began paying more attention to what happened inside me during difficult moments. Am I trying harder and harder to make myself heard? Am I becoming so hurt that I want to disconnect completely? Are either of us actually ready to continue this conversation?

Sometimes the best next step really is to take a break. Go for a walk. Take a shower. Breathe. Do something ordinary and give our bodies time to settle. A break, however, is different from emotionally withdrawing from someone.

That distinction has become important to me.

Fight can hurt, but flight can hurt too. Arguing can leave both people feeling attacked. But becoming cold or distant can leave the other person wondering whether the relationship itself has been withdrawn. What feels like self-protection to one person may feel like rejection to another.

I’m learning that I don’t have to choose between fighting and disappearing. I can pause without disconnecting. I can give myself room to calm down while still letting the other person know that the relationship is safe and that we can come back to the conversation later.

And perhaps my favorite part of this experience was where the learning came from. My child was learning about himself. He shared what he discovered with me. I listened, reflected, and learned something about myself too.

Sometimes growth in a family doesn’t move from parent to child. It moves both ways.