When my mom was diagnosed with dementia, everything changed. Not just for her, but for me too. I had to relearn how to talk to her, how to connect with her, and how to understand her in a way that felt both familiar and foreign.
At first, it was tough. Conversations that used to flow easily became strained. She would struggle to find the right words, and I would struggle to understand what she meant. It was like we were speaking different languages. But as I learned more about dementia, I realized that it wasn’t just about memory loss; it was about how it affects communication.
Dementia changes the way people process information. It’s not just about forgetting things; it’s about how the brain works differently. My mom would repeat herself, not because she didn’t remember what she said, but because she was trying to make sense of her thoughts. She would get frustrated when she couldn’t express herself, and I would get frustrated too, not knowing how to help.
One of the biggest challenges was learning to be patient and understanding. I had to stop trying to reason with her or correct her when she said something that didn’t make sense. Instead, I focused on validating her feelings and experiences. If she was upset, I acknowledged her emotions and offered reassurance. It wasn’t about fixing the situation; it was about being there for her.
Using simple language and non-verbal cues became essential. I would speak clearly and slowly, avoiding complex sentences or jargon. I used gestures and visual aids to help her understand better. Maintaining eye contact was important too; it helped her focus and feel more connected.
Creating a calm environment was crucial. I would minimize distractions, like turning off the TV or finding a quiet room. Speaking in a calm tone helped reduce her anxiety and agitation. It was amazing how much of a difference it made when we were in a peaceful setting.
Introducing myself each time we met became a habit. It might seem small, but it helped her feel more secure and recognized. I would say something like, “Hi Mom, it’s me,” and make a positive personal connection by complimenting her or pointing out something she liked.
Giving her choices was another strategy that worked well. Instead of telling her what to do, I would ask her what she wanted. It could be as simple as choosing between two outfits or deciding what to eat for lunch. It gave her a sense of control and independence, which was important for her dignity and happiness.
Relearning how to talk to my mom wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. It taught me the value of empathy and understanding. It showed me that even when words fail, love and connection can still thrive. And it reminded me that sometimes, the most powerful communication is not about what we say, but about how we say it.
