Slow down before they shut down.
Dementia changes the speed at which a person can take in, process, and respond to the world. When we rush them, we don't speed them up — we shut them down.
The teaching
A brain living with dementia needs more time to do what it used to do automatically: register what was said, find the words, decide, act. That lag is not stubbornness or inattention — it is neurology. When we fill the silence, repeat the question faster, or hand them three instructions at once, the system overloads. What looks like refusal is often freeze.
Slowing down is not doing less. It is giving the person enough room to stay in the conversation, the task, and their own dignity.
The fastest way to lose them is to hurry.
What slowing down actually looks like
One thing at a time
Stack instructions and the second erases the first. Say it, wait, let them finish, then say the next.
Leave the silence
After you ask a question, count five breaths before you speak again. The answer often arrives in breath three.
Move your body slower
Rushed hands and quick footsteps read as urgency, which reads as danger. Let your pace say: there's no emergency here.
Take the clock out of the room
When care is driven by a schedule, the person feels it. Protect a little margin even on busy days.
When rushed, try instead
“Come on, we have to go — hurry up.”
“We've got time. Let's take the next step together.”
“I told you, it's time to get dressed.”
“Here's your shirt. I'll wait while you get started.”
“Why aren't you ready yet?”
“You're doing fine. Let me help with the buttons.”
“We're late, let me just do it for you.”
“Let's slow down and let you do the part you can.”
Real-world example: the three-step morning
A caregiver used to say each morning, “Time to get up, wash up, get dressed, and come to breakfast — let's go.” By the time she reached “breakfast,” her mother had stopped moving. Three commands had become a wall.
She tried one instruction at a time, with a pause between each. “Time to sit up.” (pause) “Let's wash your face.” (pause) “Here's your shirt.” The morning took the same number of minutes. But her mother stayed in it, instead of disappearing from it.
Phrase of the week
“Take your time.”
“I'll wait.”
“One thing at a time.”
Caregiver reflection
Am I asking their brain to keep pace with my schedule — or meeting them where they actually are?
One honest caveat
Some days are genuinely rushed, and you cannot always protect the pace. Do what you can with the margin you have. Even one slowed moment — one held breath between the instruction and the next — is better than none.
Next week: one step, one cue, one moment. Until then, with care — Bella