Deshaming All Our Needs: Why all needs matter and all needs are valid

We were out to dinner, and our forks had barely touched our plates before my kid was pacing a loop around the dining table. Two bites, circle. Two bites, circle. 

I felt my shoulders creep up toward my ears. I was stressed. Normally I don’t care if my kids even come to the table for mealtime, but this was a specially-requested birthday dinner in a restaurant, and I desperately wanted a loving meal with normal conversation.

But my kid also desperately needed to move. Two valid needs, colliding in a small restaurant.

Old me would have snapped at them: “Sit down. We sit to eat at the table.” 

New me wondered in my mind, “What do you need to make eating doable?”

Obviously what they needed was movement, small bites, and more regulation to deal with this stressful environment (based on the decision to walk laps).

So, I moved the kid to the head of the table, and asked the waiter to take the chair away so they could stand up to eat (they instantly felt better). I pulled out Uno cards and proposed a family card game while we ate instead. We were still a bit louder than other tables, so I was a bit uncomfortable. My kid mostly stayed put and didn’t bump other tables.  

Nobody “won.” Everybody ate. We enjoyed each other’s company and met our own needs. Connection stayed intact.

That’s the move of low demand parenting in a nutshell. We stop asking “What’s wrong with you?” and start asking “What do you need?” Not because we’re giving up on life skills, but because shame shuts people down and needs bring people back online.

Why “What do you need?” changes everything

Most of us were raised inside a script that says: adults set the rules; kids comply; if they don’t, we make them. 

That script creates one outcome over and over—shame. Shame in kids who “can’t get it together,” and shame in parents who feel like they’re failing.

Meeting needs cut through the shame. Because needs are neutral. Needs give us information. 

“I need movement.” 

“I need quiet.” 

“I need more time.” 

“I need help getting started.” 

When we treat needs as real—whether or not we personally feel or experience them—our nervous systems gets cues of safety. Safety grows capacity. Capacity grows skills. That’s the sequence. 

A quick story you might recognize

Your teen isn’t doing their homework. 

Old script would say: Take their phone away, add the threat of consequences, hover to be sure they do it.

A needs-first script curiously asks: “What do you need to make this homework doable for the next ten minutes?”

They might respond: “Music in my headphones. A body double. No handwriting.”

So you try: setting a timer for ten minutes, voice-to-text instead of handwriting, you stand nearby doing a quiet task. Ten minutes happens. Trust grows. Tomorrow, you choose ten minutes again. Capacity is already bigger because shame isn’t invited.

Deshaming in practice: a simple four-step rhythm

1. Notice. What’s actually happening in their body and mine? Pace of breath, tone of voice, fidgeting, running away, shutdown—all are data.
2. Name. Put words to the need without judgment. “You need movement.” “I need fewer sounds.”
3. Normalize. “That makes sense.” Needs are not a character flaw; they’re a map toward trust and connection.
4. Negotiate. Small, specific, reversible experiments. “Let’s try this for five minutes and check in.”

Keep your experiments tiny on purpose. Five minutes. One tweak. Then quit while you’re ahead so you have enough in the tank to try again the next time.

“But won’t this make them fragile?”

I get the fear. We imagine that if we are flexible now, they’ll never sit, never write, never brush their teeth, never learn to push themselves, never make it in the “real world.” 

But the truth I’ve seen again and again is that forcing builds up masking; masking leads burnout; burnout takes a long time to heal. 

Taking a flexible, needs-first approach builds trust; trust builds capacity; capacity looks like more doing with less costly fallout. 

We are not lowering the bar. 

We are building the bridge.

Real-life stories of what this looks like in action

• Mornings: Child needs less stimulation and slower transitions; you need to leave by 8:10am sharp to make it to work. Move one task to the car (eat toast in a napkin), drop one non-essential (hair wash), and use music or visuals instead of verbal demands.
  
  
• Bedtime: Child needs closeness; you need to load the dishwasher and reset for the next day. Offer a 15-minute audiobook cuddle and then leave the audiobook playing while you go do one step in your evening routine. “I’ll check back in five minutes.”
  
  
• Family gathering: Child needs a break; you want to spend time with your extended family. Bring technology and let them sit outside or in the car if it’s too loud or crowded. Create a code word they can whisper or text when they’ve completely had enough. Leave early on purpose and call it a win.
  
  

Everyone’s needs count (yours too!!)

Low demand isn’t “the kid’s needs trump everything.” It’s “no one’s needs get shamed or minimized.” 

You matter. Your sensory system matters. Your need for adult conversation and connection matters. We drop the requirement for perfect solutions and drop the self-denial and martyrdom.

Instead, experiment with putting your needs on the table with the same respect and accommodations you’d freely offer your child:

• “I need one clear counter by 4 p.m. so my eyes have a place to rest (even if that means I put everything in a shoebox to deal with later).”
• “I need ten silent minutes in carline before I get my kids so I can deal with the onslaught of talking, demands, deregulation and needs.”
• “I need some frozen dinners that are only for me so I get to eat food I like when my kid will only eat Mac and cheese on a loop.”
• “I need to use paper plates and a robot vacuum because I have to fall asleep with my kid every night, and I can’t keep waking up to a messy kitchen when I’m exhausted in the morning.”

When we grown-ups name our needs plainly, we model exactly what we hope our kids will learn: how to notice our bodies, honor our limits, name our needs without shame, and stay in trusting relationship while we do it.

A note on context and equity

Some families can flex openly; others are navigating classrooms, clinics, and public spaces where their child’s needs are doubted and their own needs are dismissed. For Black and brown, queer, trans, immigrant, single, and low-income families, the same behaviors are judged more harshly and believed less often. If you’re carrying that extra weight: you’re not imagining it, and you’re not failing. 

The low demand way may be to tailor your experiments to the spaces where you can safely try them without having to fear for your safety or your kid’s safety. Gather allies who see your child as you do—worthy of care, not punishment. Validate your lived experiences in safe communities of understanding where you don’t have to explain the trade-offs you’re making. And if you can’t find that safe community or its slow to build, start by believing yourself and creating your own safety in the places you can. 

Something to try this week:

• Pick one stuck spot where two sets of needs conflict.
• Curiously ask (OR, if questions are too hard or too triggering, simply observe behavior and journal possibilities), “What do you need to make this doable for five minutes?” 
• Spend time processing and naming your own needs in this interaction, and then share those needs with your loved one: “Here’s what I need.”
• Choose one experiment to try that protects both sets of needs (no forcing, no winners or losers, just an experiment to try).
• Celebrate the smallest glimmer of “what helped.” (And notice what didn’t for next time!)

No star charts. No big speeches. No demands or power struggles. Just steady experiments and watching for tiny cues of safety.

The long game

We’re not training kids to endure misery. We’re raising humans who can listen to their bodies, tell the truth, and hold relationships with care. And that journey starts with us. 

When we swap “What’s wrong with you?” for “What do you need?” we’re not lowering standards—we’re raising our kids into something better: mutual respect, real skills, and homes where people can be real and still belong.