Rethinking the Oxygen Mask Metaphor. Especially for Parents of Kids with Complex Needs.

Dr. Meghan Clifford
Dec 4, 2025
6 min read

I just got back from some plane travel and as always, heard the familiar line:

“Put your own oxygen mask on first before helping others.”

We hear this all the time in parenting and therapy spaces, especially for parents doing the harder-than-average parenting—the parenting of kids who have big needs. Needs that can be sudden, dangerous, medical, or life-threatening.

This phrase has always felt a bit off to me. And yet, I’ve used it. I’ve said it to parents in the past (though interestingly, I haven’t said these words since becoming a parent myself). Likely, at least in part, because many therapists I trusted in training also used it.

Here’s the thing: giving parents permission to care for themselves is not inherently a problem—especially in a society where self-care is scarce.

But this phrase can also cause harm—to parents and kids—when it’s interpreted as an excuse for poor behavior or a moral expectation.

Why Flight Attendants Actually Say This

(Okay, full transparency: I am not an aviation professional, I understand neurobiology and behavior, which is where my hypothesis here comes from. Aviation pros, fact-check me!)

The instruction to put your mask on first is literal and based in science:

If your brain doesn’t get oxygen, you lose consciousness.
If you lose consciousness, you can’t help your child.
If you and other adults panic, flight attendants face an even bigger problem.

This isn’t about self-care. It’s about preserving your ability to respond when things go sideways.

It’s not moral. It’s not aspirational. It’s not wellness.

It’s neuroscience-based crisis response—something parents of complex kids are doing all the time.

Where We Get It Wrong in Mental Health and Parenting Spaces

Somewhere along the line, people started telling parents—especially parents of kids with medical, developmental, trauma-based, or mental health needs—“Put your mask on first.”

The intention is clear: encourage parents to care for themselves. And yes, humans do reach a point where they literally cannot care for others if their body or mind is depleted.

But here’s the problem: parents of kids with complex needs already live in a world of emergency moments most people never experience:

Seizures
Breathing or swallowing differences
Dysautonomia shifts
Sudden illness complications
Sensory overload
Meltdowns
Trauma reactions
Unpredictable symptoms

This is hard, not because you’re doing something wrong, but because the work itself is intense.

Our bodies and brains were not designed to have to monitor & respond continually, in the way you're having to respond. So, in a lot of ways, it makes sense that someone would want to encourage you to care for yourself...

How “Put Your Mask On First” Can Backfire

Instead of being a helpful phrase (because it ignores a hell of a lot of context), this phrase instead can carry unspoken messaging that creates shame, not support:

“If you were calmer, your child would be easier.”
“You’re failing because you’re worn down.”
“If you just took better care of yourself, things wouldn’t be so hard.”

And for parents of complex kids, restorative breaks are rare. They get moments, sometimes seconds, where the child’s needs shift from:

Stable → Unstable
Calm → Panicked
Chronic → Acute

Even with help, the brain doesn’t always transition out of threat response. Not every break is restorative.

Parenting a Child with Complex Needs Is Nothing Like a Plane

On a plane:

Oxygen masks drop only when something is undeniably wrong.
The cue is external, obvious, and automatic.
Oxygen flows immediately—no hesitation, no troubleshooting.
There’s one crisis at a time.
There’s a predictable, rehearsed sequence.
Passengers can generally tolerate waiting a few seconds.

At home:

Nothing drops from the ceiling.
You are the one monitoring micro-shifts: “Is this a meltdown or a migraine? A trauma flashback or defiance? Normal tiredness or seizure warning?”
You make judgment calls every 30 seconds, all day, every day.
Some kids cannot safely be left alone—even to go to the bathroom.
Some rely on your body to regulate theirs.
Some interpret separation—even brief—as danger because of trauma histories or disrupted attachment.
Crises overlap, stack, and repeat without resolution.
There is no predictable sequence.

It’s not “me first OR them first.” It’s both/and, moment-to-moment, whatever keeps everyone safe enough to get through the next stretch.

What the Oxygen Mask Actually Offers Parents: Rehearsal as a Tool

On the airplane, the mask isn’t about “filling your cup.” It’s about:

Keeping your thinking brain online
Rehearsing the sequence so your brain has a ready-made pathway under stress
Reducing panic, freeze, or uncertainty in emergencies

Airlines know rehearsal works. Imagining a sequence can activate similar neural pathways as actually doing it. It’s applied neuroscience.

Parents of kids with complex needs already know stress. Instead of preaching self-care, what if we used rehearsal to build neural pathways your brain can access under chaos?

Rehearsal for Parents of Complex Kids

When you rehearse — even for a moment — your brain starts forming a pathway for a future response. It won't make you perfect, but it gives you access to one more option besides panic.

Rehearsal doesn’t mean perfection. It means:

Imagining one or two tiny moves your brain can reach when everything feels chaotic
Practicing what your body does, what you say, where you breathe, who you call
Visualizing a safe, intentional response

Examples:

Envision yourself calling a provider and advocating clearly
Notice your child dissociating and choosing one gentle anchor
Recognize when you need a tag-out

Questions to guide rehearsal:

“What would a good-enough response be if this escalation happens again?”
“What might I do differently with 2% more capacity?”
“Who could I call if things went sideways?”
“What’s one phrase I could anchor to when I feel overwhelmed?”
“Where could I physically stand to keep both of us safer?”

Even 30 seconds of visualization is rehearsal. It lays a neural pathway, giving your brain one more option besides panic.

Rehearsal won’t guarantee you’ll respond this way every time. But it lays a neural pathway so that when your nervous system reacts fast, a practiced, option is accessible—not just panic.

When to do this?

Chances are, you’re already quite good at rehearsing in your head:

Reviewing what went wrong
Bracing for the next crisis
Replaying worst-case scenarios

The invitation here is to shift your rehearsal slightly: spend a little time imagining responses that align with how you want to respond, not just predicting the chaos.

That’s your oxygen mask. Not a spa day. Not an impossible standard. Just possibility.

Why This Matters

Parents of kids with complex needs live in bodies that have to react fast—and frequently.

They run all systems at once:

Threat detection
Executive functioning
Emotional regulation
Co-regulation
Medical decision-making
Sensory awareness
Environmental scanning
Safety planning

When depleted, the nervous system is more likely to:

Overreact
Underreact
Freeze
Flood
Misreads cues
Go offline

Rehearsal gives your brain something to reach for besides:

Panic
Shutdown
Self-doubt
Self-blame
Hypervigilance

It can help keeps your brain online. It can help keep you present. It can help keep you connected to your child when they need you most.

And it honors the reality of your life—not the fantasy version others project onto you.

Rehearsal Isn't Replacement

I would be remiss to say that,

Rehearsal isn’t meant to replace:

respite
trauma-informed therapy
nervous system support
medication
medical case management
a community that gets it

Parents deserve actual structural support, not metaphors. And, we're all in the system as it's currently built at this moment, so here I am, offering rehearsal is simply a practical tweak for the reality you navigate daily.

TL;DR: The Oxygen Mask Reimagined

You’ve heard it before: “Put your own oxygen mask on first.”

On a plane, this instruction is literal, predictable, and science-backed.
At home with a child whose needs shift suddenly, crises overlap, and seconds matter, self-care isn’t a tidy first step.
Helpful alternative: Rehearsal—brief, intentional mental practice of how you might respond in stressful moments.
Not about perfection or spa-level self-care.
Brain-based preparation keeps you present, thinking clearly, and able to act when your child needs you most.

You can also follow along on instagram

With care & courage,

Dr. Meghan & Scout

As with all my posts, this post is for informational and educational purposes only. It is not a substitute for professional diagnosis or treatment. You reading this does not constitute a therapeutic relationship. If you have concerns about your or your child’s safety or well-being, please reach out to a licensed provider or crisis resource.

I just got back from some plane travel and as always, heard the familiar line:

“Put your own oxygen mask on first before helping others.”

We hear this all the time in parenting and therapy spaces, especially for parents doing the harder-than-average parenting—the parenting of kids who have big needs. Needs that can be sudden, dangerous, medical, or life-threatening.

This phrase has always felt a bit off to me. And yet, I’ve used it. I’ve said it to parents in the past (though interestingly, I haven’t said these words since becoming a parent myself). Likely, at least in part, because many therapists I trusted in training also used it.

Here’s the thing: giving parents permission to care for themselves is not inherently a problem—especially in a society where self-care is scarce.

But this phrase can also cause harm—to parents and kids—when it’s interpreted as an excuse for poor behavior or a moral expectation.

Why Flight Attendants Actually Say This

(Okay, full transparency: I am not an aviation professional, I understand neurobiology and behavior, which is where my hypothesis here comes from. Aviation pros, fact-check me!)

The instruction to put your mask on first is literal and based in science:

If your brain doesn’t get oxygen, you lose consciousness.

If you lose consciousness, you can’t help your child.

If you and other adults panic, flight attendants face an even bigger problem.

This isn’t about self-care. It’s about preserving your ability to respond when things go sideways.

It’s not moral. It’s not aspirational. It’s not wellness.

It’s neuroscience-based crisis response—something parents of complex kids are doing all the time.

Where We Get It Wrong in Mental Health and Parenting Spaces

Somewhere along the line, people started telling parents—especially parents of kids with medical, developmental, trauma-based, or mental health needs—“Put your mask on first.”

The intention is clear: encourage parents to care for themselves. And yes, humans do reach a point where they literally cannot care for others if their body or mind is depleted.

But here’s the problem: parents of kids with complex needs already live in a world of emergency moments most people never experience:

Seizures

Breathing or swallowing differences

Dysautonomia shifts

Sudden illness complications

Sensory overload

Meltdowns

Trauma reactions

Unpredictable symptoms

This is hard, not because you’re doing something wrong, but because the work itself is intense.

Our bodies and brains were not designed to have to monitor & respond continually, in the way you're having to respond. So, in a lot of ways, it makes sense that someone would want to encourage you to care for yourself...

How “Put Your Mask On First” Can Backfire

Instead of being a helpful phrase (because it ignores a hell of a lot of context), this phrase instead can carry unspoken messaging that creates shame, not support:

“If you were calmer, your child would be easier.”

“You’re failing because you’re worn down.”

“If you just took better care of yourself, things wouldn’t be so hard.”

And for parents of complex kids, restorative breaks are rare. They get moments, sometimes seconds, where the child’s needs shift from:

Stable → Unstable

Calm → Panicked

Chronic → Acute

Even with help, the brain doesn’t always transition out of threat response. Not every break is restorative.

Parenting a Child with Complex Needs Is Nothing Like a Plane

On a plane:

Oxygen masks drop only when something is undeniably wrong.

The cue is external, obvious, and automatic.

Oxygen flows immediately—no hesitation, no troubleshooting.

There’s one crisis at a time.

There’s a predictable, rehearsed sequence.

Passengers can generally tolerate waiting a few seconds.

At home:

Nothing drops from the ceiling.

You are the one monitoring micro-shifts: “Is this a meltdown or a migraine? A trauma flashback or defiance? Normal tiredness or seizure warning?”

You make judgment calls every 30 seconds, all day, every day.

Some kids cannot safely be left alone—even to go to the bathroom.

Some rely on your body to regulate theirs.

Some interpret separation—even brief—as danger because of trauma histories or disrupted attachment.

Crises overlap, stack, and repeat without resolution.

There is no predictable sequence.

It’s not “me first OR them first.” It’s both/and, moment-to-moment, whatever keeps everyone safe enough to get through the next stretch.

What the Oxygen Mask Actually Offers Parents: Rehearsal as a Tool

On the airplane, the mask isn’t about “filling your cup.” It’s about:

Keeping your thinking brain online

Rehearsing the sequence so your brain has a ready-made pathway under stress

Reducing panic, freeze, or uncertainty in emergencies

Airlines know rehearsal works. Imagining a sequence can activate similar neural pathways as actually doing it. It’s applied neuroscience.

Parents of kids with complex needs already know stress. Instead of preaching self-care, what if we used rehearsal to build neural pathways your brain can access under chaos?

Rehearsal for Parents of Complex Kids

When you rehearse — even for a moment — your brain starts forming a pathway for a future response. It won't make you perfect, but it gives you access to one more option besides panic.

Rehearsal doesn’t mean perfection. It means:

Imagining one or two tiny moves your brain can reach when everything feels chaotic

Practicing what your body does, what you say, where you breathe, who you call

Visualizing a safe, intentional response

Examples:

Envision yourself calling a provider and advocating clearly

Notice your child dissociating and choosing one gentle anchor

Recognize when you need a tag-out

Questions to guide rehearsal:

“What would a good-enough response be if this escalation happens again?”

“What might I do differently with 2% more capacity?”

“Who could I call if things went sideways?”

“What’s one phrase I could anchor to when I feel overwhelmed?”

“Where could I physically stand to keep both of us safer?”