If you’ve been caring for someone with dementia for a while, you may have noticed a shift that’s hard to put into words.
It’s not just memory anymore.
Getting up from a chair takes longer. Walking looks different. Everyday tasks that used to feel manageable now come with hesitation or frustration.
A lot of caregivers tell me the same thing.
“I thought dementia was about memory. Why does everything feel so physical now?”
That question makes a lot of sense.
When It Stops Feeling Like “Just Memory
Dementia doesn’t just affect how someone thinks. It affects how the brain and body work together. When that connection starts to change, movement becomes harder in ways that are easy to misinterpret.
What looks like stubbornness.
What looks like refusal.
What looks like “they could do this yesterday.”
Often isn’t about motivation at all.
It’s about the body no longer doing what the brain is asking it to do.
Once you see that, a lot of moments start to feel less personal. The hesitation. The freezing. The sudden need for more help.
And then the next question usually comes.
Okay. If movement is changing, what am I supposed to do differently now?
That’s where this post begins.
Not with exercises.
Not with pushing independence.
Not with fixing what’s changing.
But with understanding how movement is affected and how supporting the body differently can make daily care feel safer and less overwhelming for both of you.
Once caregivers reach that question, what they’re often really asking is this.
The Question Caregivers Start Asking
How do I keep them safe without taking everything away?
On one hand, you’ve probably been told to encourage independence. To let them try. To not step in too quickly. On the other hand, you’re watching movement start to feel less steady. You’re noticing the pauses. The wobble. The way standing up suddenly looks like work.
That’s a hard place to sit.
When Safety Has to Come First
What often helps is shifting the goal just a little. When movement starts to feel unsafe, independence can’t be the priority anymore. Safety has to come first. Not because you’re giving up, but because the body is telling you something important.
When balance, coordination, or reaction time change, the nervous system shifts into protection mode. The body is no longer thinking about doing the task well. It’s focused on not getting hurt.
That’s usually when hesitation shows up. Or freezing. Or a sudden “no” that wasn’t there before.
From the outside, it can look like resistance. From the inside, it often feels like, “This doesn’t feel safe anymore.”
And when someone is pushed through a movement that already feels uncertain, fear tends to take over. Once fear is part of the picture, movement usually gets harder, not easier.
How Fear Shows Up in the Body
Fear doesn’t usually announce itself clearly.
Most of the time, it shows up quietly. As hesitation. As taking longer than usual. As reaching for something nearby. As asking for help with something that used to be automatic.
Why Standing Up Becomes So Hard
Standing up is often where that fear shows itself first.
Standing up asks a lot from the body all at once. The brain has to judge where the body is in space, shift weight forward, generate enough strength to rise, and then find balance again at the top.
When dementia affects coordination, reaction time, or balance, that sequence stops feeling reliable.
So the body pauses.
Sometimes it rocks back and forth, trying to build momentum. Sometimes it freezes halfway through. Sometimes it sits back down after starting to stand. And sometimes the answer is just no.
From the outside, it can look confusing or frustrating, especially when you know they stood up earlier that same day. But the body isn’t thinking about what worked before. It’s responding to how safe this moment feels right now.
This is why standing up from a chair, a bed, or a toilet often becomes harder long before walking does. These transitions leave the body briefly unstable, and when stability feels uncertain, fear steps in fast.
What helps most in these moments usually isn’t more encouragement or more effort.
It’s helping the body feel steady again.
When standing up feels scary, the body is looking for something solid. Something predictable. Something it can trust.
That might mean slowing the moment down instead of rushing it. Giving time to shift forward before trying to stand. Letting the person feel where their feet are before anything else happens.
Often, it’s as simple as giving the body something stable to push from. A firm chair. Armrests. A seat that isn’t too low.
These small details matter because they give the body a clear starting point. When the body knows where it is and what it can push against, fear tends to soften.
Standing up doesn’t have to be one smooth motion anymore. Sometimes it happens in steps. Lean forward. Pause. Push up. Pause again.
That’s not failure. That’s adaptation.
One thing that surprises many caregivers is how much calmer things feel when they stop correcting and start supporting. Fewer verbal cues. Less urgency. More quiet presence.
When Good Intentions Make Things Harder
Sometimes things get harder not because anyone is doing anything wrong, but because instincts kick in.
When a moment feels tense or uncertain, it’s natural to want to speed things up. To give more instructions. To help more actively. To just get through it.
Unfortunately, that urgency is often what the body interprets as danger.
Too much talking. Too much rushing. Too much hands-on help can overwhelm a nervous system that’s already struggling to organize movement.
This isn’t about blame. It’s about understanding why slowing yourself down often helps the other person do the same.
Why Walking Starts to Look Different
Walking is often where caregivers really start to worry.
They notice the steps getting shorter. The feet not quite clearing the floor. The way turns take longer or feel awkward. Maybe there’s more holding onto furniture or walls than there used to be.
And even when no one has fallen yet, something feels off.
What’s happening is similar to what shows up with standing, just stretched out over more time. Walking asks the brain and body to stay coordinated step after step. Balance has to adjust constantly.
When dementia affects that coordination, walking stops feeling automatic.
So the body compensates.
It slows down. It shortens steps. It looks for support nearby.
That reaching for furniture isn’t always about weakness. It’s often about creating stability when balance feels unreliable.
Walking can look different from one day to the next. Fatigue, environment, noise, lighting, and stress all play a role.
A hallway that felt manageable in the morning may feel overwhelming later in the day.
What helps most is not pushing for normal walking, but making walking feel safer. Clear paths. Fewer distractions. Good lighting. Shoes that stay put.
Slowing the pace, pausing when needed, and allowing short rests often keeps walking going longer than trying to rush through it.
Why Everything Feels Harder Later in the Day
Fatigue is the part that often sneaks up on caregivers.
They notice that things go better earlier in the day. Walking feels steadier in the morning. Standing up takes less effort.
Then later on, everything changes.
Movement slows down. Frustration shows up faster. Walking feels harder. Standing up suddenly feels like too much.
This isn’t laziness.
Movement takes more work than it used to. Dementia changes how automatic movement is. The brain has to think through steps that once happened without effort.
That extra effort adds up.
By the afternoon or evening, the body is tired. Not unmotivated. Tired.
This is why pushing through fatigue often backfires. When the body is already working hard just to stay upright, asking for more can feel overwhelming.
What helps is adjusting expectations instead of pushing harder. Shorter movement periods. More rest built into the day. Fewer demands stacked back to back.
Fatigue doesn’t mean decline happened overnight. It usually means the body has been working harder all along.
How Environment and Pace Shape Movement
Environment and pacing are often the quiet pieces that make everything feel easier or harder.
They don’t feel like care tasks, but when movement starts to change, they matter more than people realize.
Certain times of day may feel harder. Busy moments may bring more struggle. That’s not random.
Movement takes more effort when the brain is tired, when there’s noise, or when the environment feels cluttered or unpredictable.
Stacking tasks back to back often makes movement harder. Standing up, walking, turning, and sitting again all require coordination.
Sometimes what helps most is slowing the rhythm of the day. Letting one movement finish before starting the next. Giving space between transitions.
Clear paths make walking feel less risky. Good lighting helps the body understand where it is. Familiar spaces reduce the number of decisions the brain has to make.
This isn’t about turning your home into a medical space. It’s about noticing what seems to trip the body up and gently removing those obstacles when you can.
Sometimes caregivers ask me what tools might help make movement feel safer.
The honest answer is that it depends.
The layout of your home.
The stage of dementia.
What movements feel hardest right now.
What the person you care for will tolerate.
What works well in one space or for one person may not help at all in another.
If you’re feeling stuck trying to decide what might support safer movement in your own home, I’m happy to help you think it through. Sometimes a short conversation is all it takes to bring clarity about what’s worth trying and what’s better left alone. You can email me at carlyn@abetterwaydementiacaresolutions.com.
You’re Adapting, Not Failing
If movement has started to feel harder lately, you’re not imagining it.
And you’re not doing anything wrong.
Supporting someone through this isn’t about doing things perfectly. It’s about noticing what helps them feel steadier and letting support evolve as things change.
You don’t have to figure this out by trial and error.
You’re doing more right than you think.
Notes
1. Alzheimer’s Association. (n.d.). Stages and behaviors. https://www.alz.org/help-support/caregiving/stages-behaviors
2. Alzheimer’s Society. (n.d.). Disability and mobility benefits for people with dementia. https://www.alzheimers.org.uk/get-support/legal-financial/benefits-dementia/disability-mobility-benefits
3. MyAction Physical Therapy. (n.d.). A physical therapy guide to Alzheimer’s disease. https://www.myactionpt.com/physical-therapy-guide-to-alzheimer-s-disease
4. National Institute on Aging. (n.d.). Alzheimer’s disease and related dementias: Changes in movement and balance. https://www.nia.nih.gov/health/alzheimers/changes-movement-and-balance
5. Verghese, J., Robbins, M., Holtzer, R., Zimmerman, M., Wang, C., Xue, X., & Lipton, R. B. (2012). Gait dysfunction in mild cognitive impairment syndromes. Journal of the American Geriatrics Society, 60(10), 1814–1821. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1532-5415.2012.04108.x
Disclaimer
The information provided in this blog is for educational purposes only and should not be considered medical advice. Always consult with a doctor or a licensed physical therapist before starting any new exercise routine, using assistive devices, or following the recommendations mentioned. Every individual’s needs are different, and professional guidance is essential to ensure safety and appropriateness of care.
Want to keep figuring this out together?
Subscribe to Finding Our Way in Dementia Care and get honest stories, helpful tips, and gentle support delivered to your inbox every week. Just real talk, grounded care, and space to breathe.
Subscribe to Finding Our Way in Dementia Care and get honest stories, helpful tips, and gentle support delivered to your inbox every week. Just real talk, grounded care, and space to breathe.
Kind truth. Clear steps. Warm guide.
0 Comments