How I Reassure My Mum When Dementia Makes Her Frightened

Hello, welcome to another moment of clarity.

This week has been a bit of a challenge. Mum has been very on edge and fearful almost every single day. Often there is nothing obvious that sets it off, yet somehow everything seems capable of doing it.

What’s on TV.

The postman knocking at the door.

The neighbour’s dog barking.

Small everyday things that once passed unnoticed can suddenly make the world feel confusing or unsafe for her.

And when that fear arrives, it can arrive quickly.

Sometimes the world outside is enough to unsettle everything inside.

When I Used to Look for the “Problem”

In the beginning of our care journey, Mum still had enough capacity to tell me what was wrong. Those days were easier.

If I know the problem, I can provide the solution.

That mindset comes quite naturally to me. I spent years working in customer service, where solving problems quickly is part of the job. Someone tells you what is wrong and you find a way to fix it.

But as the dementia progressed, Mum slowly lost the ability to explain what she was feeling.

She would become distressed but could not tell me why.

And I struggled with that more than I expected.

At first I got impatient. Sometimes I even got angry. I found myself snapping or showing frustration because I felt helpless. I am not proud of those moments, especially because my frustration often made Mum even more frightened.

Looking back now, I realise I was trying too hard to fix something that did not always need fixing.

Sometimes she simply needed comfort.

Some of the most important moments happen in the quiet spaces between words.

Learning That Comfort Can Be Simple

Over time I have started to understand that reassurance does not always come from solving a problem.

Sometimes it comes from the smallest things.

A hug.

A glass of water.

Holding her hand while she takes a few steady breaths.

When Mum is frightened now, I try to slow everything down. I remind myself that the moment does not need urgency.

It needs calm.

And that shift in my own approach has made a huge difference for both of us.

When the fear begins to soften, you notice it first in the small things. A relaxed shoulder. A faint smile.

Validating Her Feelings

One of the biggest lessons I have learned while caring for Mum is that validating her feelings can go a long way in helping her feel safe again.

If she becomes upset and asks for her parents, who passed away many years ago, I do not remind her that they are gone. Hearing that news again can feel like fresh grief.

Instead, I gently tell her they are away on holiday in Blackpool and will be back soon. Sometimes I ask her to tell me about them.

What were they like?

What did they enjoy doing?

Before long she is describing them, smiling as she remembers small details.

In those moments the fear softens.

I also try to be very mindful of how I speak to her. I lower my voice, slow down my speech, and keep my sentences simple. I sit down so that we are at eye level.

Standing over her can make her feel intimidated without either of us meaning it to.

Presence does not always need words. Sometimes a hand is enough.

Using Her Calm Box

In a previous post I wrote about calm boxes and how they can help soothe and distract someone with dementia.

If I am honest, when I first made Mum’s calm box she was not particularly interested in it. It ended up sitting in the cupboard gathering dust.

But lately I find myself turning to it more often.

Inside are small familiar things that help her settle.

A bracelet I bought her on our last holiday together.

Her favourite pair of earrings.

Old family photographs.

Pictures of her parents. Pictures of Mum when she was younger. Photos from holidays we took together.

There is also a small fidget spinner which helps when her hands feel restless.

Sometimes she will simply sit and hold one of the objects. Other times she will look through the photos and start telling stories.

It does not always work immediately, but often it gently brings her attention back to the present moment.

And sometimes that small shift is enough to turn a frightened feeling into a calmer one.

A photograph can open a door that fear had closed.

Music Can Change Everything

Music has a remarkable way of reaching parts of the brain that dementia has not taken away.

Mum has always loved music, so when she starts feeling anxious I often put some of her favourites on quietly in the background.

She loves Adele. She also loves ABBA.

Sometimes, if she is feeling well enough, we dance.

Mum is actually known as the “Dancing Queen” at her day centre, which feels very fitting considering how much she loves ABBA.

Often all it takes is turning on the radio and having a little boogie together in the living room. Within minutes the tension in her body begins to melt away.

Fear turns into laughter.

And the house feels lighter again.

Fear turns into laughter. And the house feels lighter again.

Staying With Her in Silence

Sometimes there is nothing to say.

There is no music.

No television.

No distraction.

Just quiet.

I will sit beside her and hold her hand. Sometimes she rests her head on my shoulder while we sit together.

Those moments do not require energy or words.

They simply require presence.

Mum and I have always been huggers, so these quiet moments of closeness feel very natural to us both.

And more often than not, that gentle stillness is enough to help her settle.

Sometimes the most reassuring thing you can offer is simply staying.

Final Thoughts

This week reminded me of something I sometimes forget.

Communicating reassurance is not always about saying the right thing.

Sometimes it is about letting go of the pressure to fix everything straight away.

Presence can be reassuring in ways that words cannot always reach.

Just being there.

Staying steady.

Letting the moment unfold without rushing it.

Dementia has a way of teaching patience again and again.

And on difficult weeks like this one, that patience becomes its own quiet form of reassurance.

Until next time,

James

---

If you are caring for someone with dementia, you will know that every day can look a little different.

What helps one moment might not work the next, and sometimes reassurance comes in ways we never expected.

If you have found your own small ways of comforting someone you love, I would really love to hear about them. Feel free to share them in the comments or send an email. Your experience might help another carer who is having a difficult day.