Flying, Fear, and the Power of Preparation

I don’t love flying. I’ve struggled with it since my prefrontal cortex came online at around the age of 28. It first struck me when I was sat on a plane with my firstborn as an infant. Our vulnerability was suddenly overwhelming. I realised I was in the sky on a hunk of metal, in the hands of a complete stranger, with the most precious thing of life in my arms. It suddenly seemed insane.

But I love holidays. So I force myself to go.

When we finally saved enough to go as a family to the much-longed-for Disney Florida, the fear of the long-haul flight was ruining the anticipation of the trip. I heard from a friend about a fear of flying course run by British Airways and decided it was worth a try.

It was a great day. They explained how flying actually works—the mechanics and the science. We got to ask all our burning questions, and yes, I was that person, down the front, hand in the air over and over, question after question.

In the afternoon, we were guided through a meditation and given mantras to say. Back then, I didn’t rate that kind of touchy-feely nonsense, but I went along with it, even though I was extremely sceptical. Then we all got on an aeroplane. We were walked through the airport, through departure, through security—just as we would if we were going abroad.

The pilots who had run the course supported and accompanied us all the way. They sat on the plane with us. They talked us through take-off, and we flew around over the UK for about 40 minutes. They encouraged us to get up out of our seats, move around, and then we landed. We were reminded of our breathing and mantras all the way through. They kept answering our questions and assuring us that all was normal. They explained all the sounds and movements and what they meant, so we understood what to expect. It was fab. It has helped massively.

I’m on a flight as I write this. I still struggle with take-off a bit, but with all the tools I’ve collected over the years, I can get through it—tapping, breathing, and sensory tools. I’ve even used meditation tracks. But as I sit here reflecting on the course I did over 12 years ago, and the journey I’m now on with Trauma-Informed Parenting, I see the similarities.

What they actually did on that course was genius.

First, they acknowledged our fears and validated them. Then they answered all our questions. This was delivered by experienced pilots who mingled during breaks and lunch, connecting and chatting with us. They gave us mantras to quiet that runaway train thinking. We were taught to breathe slowly while squeezing our buttocks on the in-breath and relaxing them on the out-breath, over and over. The mantra was:

“This is uncomfortable, but it is not dangerous.”

They gave us all the facts and statistics on how safe flying actually is to help us understand. And because we knew what to expect, we were no longer in fear. When they walked us through the airport routine, they were helping us prepare and know what to expect—using their calm and connection to help us feel safe.

Just like we, as parents, want to be doing with our children every day.

I use that slide—the one about putting your own oxygen mask on first—in every workshop, to point out that calm breathing has been around a long time and that the adult needs to calm their panic brain first to be of any use to the child. I check for that slide on every flight to see if it’s still there. I find an odd sense of comfort and validation when I see it.

So if you ever see me on a flight during take-off with my eyes closed, you can’t see it, but just know—I’m squeezing those glutes, repeating that mantra, and breathing to get through it.

Just like Bryan Post’s mantra for when our children are in behaviour, and we breathe first and say to ourselves:

“I’m OK. My child is just having a hard time right now.”

Fear doesn’t disappear by magic. But with the right tools, the right support, and a little bit of practice, it becomes something we move through. Whether you’re 35,000 feet in the air or knee-deep in parenting challenges, preparation, practice and connection are the key.