Common Mistakes to Avoid

Let me tell you something I've learned along the way. When you're caring for someone with dementia, you try your absolute best. I know you do. You research, you imagine yourself in their position, you practice patience because you understand this disease isn't their choice. But even with all that effort, we slip up sometimes—because we're human.

I don't want you to carry guilt when you make mistakes as a care partner. That serves no one. But there are some situations worth being especially mindful about.

Here's a big one: thinking you must be right because you don't have dementia. The truth is your loved one is experiencing a world that's increasingly different from yours. Their reality is shifting, and we need to meet them there instead of forcing them to join ours.

So, when they tell you they haven't eaten all day—even though you served lunch just an hour ago—don't correct them. Instead, simply say, "Really? Then let's get you something to eat." It's about honoring their experience rather than imposing ours. That small shift in approach can make all the difference in maintaining their dignity and your connection.

Expecting Everyone with Dementia to Be the Same

Your uncle's journey with dementia will look different from your dad's or your friend's husband. Even when they all have Alzheimer's type dementia, each person remains as unique as they've always been.

Yes, there are patterns and behaviors that doctors and books will tell you to expect. And these guidelines are helpful, I'm not saying to ignore them. But how each person experiences this disease, how they respond, what triggers them, what comforts them, is deeply personal.

And remember this truth I've learned along the way: each day brings its own rhythm. Some mornings you'll wake up to the person you've always known, with moments of clarity that take your breath away. Other days will challenge everything in you. That unpredictability is simply part of the dementia caregiving journey.

Be gentle with yourself when the days are hard. And when they're easier, take a deep breath and store up that good energy. You're doing holy work—seeing and honoring the person behind the disease, day by changing day.

Shaming

I know how tempting it can be in the moment. When your loved one has done something frustrating or embarrassing, there's that split-second impulse to say, "What were you thinking?" or "Why would you do that?" But I've never once seen shaming produce anything positive when someone has dementia.

They simply cannot help their behavior. The disease is changing how their brain works at the most fundamental level. Shaming someone for symptoms they cannot control is like scolding someone for having a fever during the flu.

Truth is, shaming rarely helps anyone, even those with full cognitive function. But for someone with dementia, it only creates confusion, anxiety, and a sense of failure they don't deserve to carry.

Instead, when challenging behaviors happen, try to redirect gently. Distract with something pleasant. Or pause and lovingly try to figure out what might be wrong—are they uncomfortable, confused, or trying to meet a need they can't express?

Your patience in these moments is a profound gift. Even when they can't thank you for it, even when they can't remember it five minutes later, it matters. It honors their dignity in ways that will sustain both of you through this journey.

Treating People Living with Dementia Like Children

This one can sneak up on you because your loved one does need you to speak more slowly, more simply, and more carefully. But there's a world of difference between simplifying communication and talking down to someone.

Remember something crucial about your person: their intelligence hasn't disappeared. What's changed is their ability to process complex information and express themselves verbally. The wisdom, the life experience, the adult they've always been is still there.

When we slip into that sing-song voice or use phrases like "good job" for basic tasks, it chips away at their dignity. I've seen the look in people's eyes when this happens—that flash of recognition that they're being patronized.

Instead, speak to them as the adult they are. Yes, use shorter sentences. Yes, give one instruction at a time. But maintain that tone of respect. Share jokes they would have appreciated before. Talk about meaningful topics, even if their responses are limited.

Your loved one may not always be able to tell you how much this matters, but I promise you—being treated with dignity is a fundamental human need that doesn't diminish with cognitive decline. It might be the greatest gift you can give them.

Stripping People Living with Dementia of Their Dignity by Doing Everything for Them

I know it comes from a place of love. You want to help. It's faster and easier to just button the shirt yourself, cut up the food, or answer questions directed at them. But when we step in too quickly, we unintentionally strip away their dignity and independence.

Try to focus on what they can still do rather than dwelling on what they can't. Maybe they take longer to dress now but letting them choose their clothes and attempt buttons builds confidence. Perhaps they eat more slowly or messily, but the satisfaction of feeding themselves matters.

There's this delicate balance to find, and honestly, sometimes dignity needs to come before perfect safety. This is why having those difficult conversations early in the journey is so important to understand their values and preferences while they can still express them clearly.

You know, I've seen people light up when given small choices. "Would you like the blue shirt or the green one?" or "Should we have our coffee on the porch or in the kitchen today?" These moments of autonomy might seem tiny to us, but they're everything to someone who feels control slipping away.

Give yourself permission to slow down. To wait patiently while they try. To resist the urge to take over. It's one of the hardest but most meaningful gifts you can offer.

Assuming They are Wrong When They Tell You Someone is Stealing from Them or Causing Distress

It's easy to write these concerns off as paranoia or confusion—and sometimes they might be just that. But I need you to hear this: people with dementia can still be legitimate victims of theft or mistreatment. In fact, they're often targeted precisely because they might not be believed.

When your loved one raises these concerns, listen with respect. Really listen. Watch their face, notice their emotional state. Ask gentle follow-up questions: "Can you tell me more about what happened?" or "When did you notice this was missing?"

Then investigate as thoroughly as you can. Check if valuables are truly missing. Look for unexplained withdrawals from accounts. Pay attention to unexplained bruises or changes in behavior after certain caregivers visit.

Trust your instincts here. If something feels wrong, it's worth looking into, even if your loved one's story doesn't seem entirely coherent. I've seen families discover real financial abuse or mistreatment only after initially dismissing concerns as confusion.

Your advocacy matters tremendously. Even when their words are jumbled, they may be trying to tell you something important. Listening with an open heart could protect them when they can no longer fully protect themselves.

Assuming They are Right When They Tell You Someone is Stealing from Them or Abusing Them

Here's a flip side: don't automatically assume your loved one is right when they claim someone is stealing from them or mistreating them.

When your mom can't find her hearing aids and insists the new home health aide took them, pause before making accusations. This kind of misplacement and subsequent blame happens to all of us—we can't find our keys and wonder if someone moved them. But for someone with dementia, this normal human tendency can intensify into persistent suspicion.

Paranoia can be a symptom of the disease itself. The brain is working hard to make sense of confusing situations, and "someone took it" can feel like a more logical explanation than "I forgot where I put it."

When these accusations arise, listen with compassion. Say something like, "I hear you're worried about your hearing aids. Let's look for them together." Often, they'll turn up in unusual places—the refrigerator, a shoe, or a pocket of rarely worn clothing.

For allegations of physical abuse, take a measured approach. Don't immediately assume the worst about a caregiver, but don't dismiss the concern either. Look for physical signs, changes in behavior, or patterns in the accusations. Sometimes there's a specific trigger, perhaps a caregiver needed to help with a shower, which felt invasive but wasn't abuse.

Your balanced perspective is so important here. You're navigating between protection and overreaction, between advocacy and fairness. It's not easy, but your thoughtful presence makes all the difference.

Reaching for Drugs to Settle Difficult Behaviors

When your loved one becomes agitated, combative, or restless, it can be overwhelming. You're exhausted. You're worried. And sometimes healthcare providers might suggest sedatives or antipsychotics to manage these behaviors. It feels like a lifeline at that moment.

But can I share something important? Those medications come with serious risks for people with dementia. They can increase fall risk, worsen confusion, and sometimes even shorten life. They have their place, but they shouldn't be our first response.

Before considering medication, try to be a detective. Ask yourself: What might be triggering this behavior? Could they be cold? When's the last time they had something to drink? Might they be in pain they can't express? Is there a UTI brewing?

I remember sitting with my dad during one of his agitated episodes. The doctor had suggested medication, but I felt something was off. After gently checking, I discovered his compression socks were too tight. Once I removed them, his whole demeanor changed.

These "behaviors" are often their only way of communicating discomfort or needs. Your loved one isn't trying to be difficult—they're trying to tell you something in the only way they can.

Trust your instincts. You know them best. Sometimes the simplest solution—a drink of water, a trip to the bathroom, a warmer blanket—can make all the difference in the world.

Categorically Refusing Drugs

Your loved one with dementia can absolutely experience physical pain, just like you and I do. If you had a throbbing headache or arthritis flare-up, you'd want relief. They deserve the same compassion.

Remember, too, that many people had mental health conditions before dementia—depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder—that don't simply disappear when dementia arrives. In fact, the confusion of dementia can make these conditions even more distressing for them.

I've seen families hesitate about any medication, worried it might make confusion worse or feeling like it's "drugging" their loved one. I understand that concern. But sometimes, the right medication at the right dose isn't just appropriate, it's the kindest thing you can do.

The key is finding balance. Yes, people with dementia are often more sensitive to medications, so start with lower doses and monitor carefully. But completely withholding medication that could ease suffering isn't necessarily the right answer either.

Work closely with doctors who understand dementia care. Be an advocate for appropriate pain management and mental health support. Sometimes, that carefully prescribed antidepressant or pain reliever might be what allows your loved one to participate more fully in life and find moments of joy amid the challenges.

You're making so many difficult decisions on this journey. Trust that seeking comfort for your loved one, whether through non-drug approaches or thoughtful medication use, comes from a place of deep caring.

Caring for someone with dementia takes more love, patience, and wisdom than most of us imagine when the journey begins.

 These mistakes—arguing instead of meeting them in their reality, expecting all dementia to look the same, shaming behaviors they can't control, babying them, doing everything for them, either dismissing or automatically believing accusations, and making medication decisions from either extreme—are all mistakes most of us make at some point.

The thread connecting all these pitfalls is forgetting to see the person behind the disease. Your loved one is still there, deserving dignity, respect, and compassionate care that honors who they've always been.

There's no perfect way through this journey. Some days you'll handle everything beautifully, and others you'll fall into every trap we've discussed. That's okay. What matters most is that you keep showing up with an open heart, learning as you go, and remembering that behind the confusion and changed behaviors is the person you love. That recognition, seeing them as a whole, despite what the disease has taken, might be the greatest gift you can give them, and yourself.

Warm Regards,

Donna