Yes to Their World: A Hack for Loving Dementia Chats

Imagine sitting with your grandpa, sunlight spilling through the window, as he beams about a fishing trip he took last week—decades after his last cast. Instead of correcting him, you nod and ask about the biggest fish he caught. A heartfelt tip shared online suggests treating dementia’s mistaken memories like an improv game, saying “yes, and” to keep the moment warm. It’s not about facts—it’s about weaving a thread of joy through their foggy world.

This approach transforms visits from heartbreak to harmony. By stepping into their reality, you dodge distress and spark smiles, creating memories that linger for both of you. It’s like a dance where no one steps on toes, just swaying to their rhythm. Let’s dive into this idea, explore why it’s a game-changer for loved ones with dementia, and hear what others have found in these tender moments.

‘LPT: If someone you love is living with dementia or Alzheimer’s, don’t correct their mistaken memories — say “yes, and” and treat it like an improv game’

This approach works because it prioritizes their emotional well-being. Correcting someone with Alzheimer’s, like saying their long-gone mother isn’t here, often sparks confusion or grief, forcing them to relive pain. Instead, agreeing—like saying, “She’s with your sister, back soon”—validates their reality, keeping them grounded.

It also builds trust; they feel heard, not dismissed. For example, when my dad claimed he was a senator, I’d say, “Tell me more!” It sparked joy, not conflict, letting us share a moment. Research backs this: validation reduces agitation in dementia patients. It’s not about lying—it’s about meeting them where they are. This improv mindset turns painful visits into chances to connect, easing their distress and yours, making those fleeting moments of warmth feel like a gift.

It also fosters creativity and connection. You learn to weave stories together, like chatting about a fictional past, which can spark smiles or even forgotten memories. It’s a gentle way to keep their dignity intact and make visits feel less heavy.

Have you tried this approach with a loved one with dementia? What ways do you find to connect with them? Share your experiences below!

This dementia hack is as compassionate as it is clever, rooted in emotional wisdom. As Dr. Naomi Feil, founder of Validation Therapy, explains in a Psychology Today article, “Meeting people with dementia in their reality reduces stress and honors their feelings” (Psychology Today: Validation Therapy). Correcting mistaken memories—like insisting a long-gone parent isn’t coming—can jolt them into grief. Agreeing gently, like saying they’re just out for a bit, keeps peace.

Here’s the heart of it: dementia scrambles facts but not feelings. The tip’s beauty is its empathy—validating their truth avoids arguments and builds trust. The other side? Some fear “lying” feels wrong or might confuse them more. But it’s not deception; it’s prioritizing calm over clarity. When my aunt swore she was late for a 1960s dance, I said, “Let’s pick your dress!” Her grin was worth every improvised word.

This connects to a bigger picture: emotional health in dementia care. A 2022 Alzheimer’s Association study found that validation techniques cut agitation by 25% in patients (Alzheimer’s Association). It’s not just kinder—it works. This improv game lets caregivers sidestep conflict, turning tense moments into shared stories, whether about fictional senators or childhood pets.

Want to try it? Listen closely, nod, and build on their story—maybe ask about details to keep them engaged. If they’re upset, like fearing danger, soothe with a calm twist, like “I checked, it’s all safe now.” It takes practice, but it’s worth it. How do you connect with a loved one’s memories? Share your thoughts below—what’s worked for you?

Here’s how people reacted to the post:

Redditors poured their hearts into this tip, sharing stories that range from bittersweet to surprisingly funny. Here’s what they had to say, with a touch of warmth:

plearbear − Thank you for this. I'm definitely going to listen to that TED talk. Unfortunately my mamaw's delusions weren't so innocuous... they got quite dark sometimes, definitely not the type of thing I would have wanted to validate as reality.

She would say there were a bunch of dead bodies in the backyard, or a vicious family of foxes in the fireplace, or the house was about to explode and we all needed to evacuate. Though now I could see the benefit of not necessarily validating but... dampening?

Instead of saying

There was one time that she had been going on about the house exploding for a while and my papaw was getting fed up with her. He raised his voice in frustration to reiterate that the house was not going to explode and he wasn't leaving his chair.

She responded,

Edited to add: something a little less depressing. Throughout my whole life, my mamaw would occasionally grab my hands, look into my eyes, and tell me

As her dementia advanced, she did it less and less, so I would do it to her instead. And I could swear that I saw something in her eyes that led me to believe that she remembered something when I did that even near the very end. I don't think she remembered who I was, or even why I was grabbing her hands and telling her she was pretty, but I feel like maybe she felt there was something fleetingly familiar about those moments.

ldoesntreddit − My and my fiancé’s grandmothers are in different stages of the disease and we’re beginning to witness this sort of thinking with his. Thank you for this tip- it’s so heartbreaking to see your loved one feeling mixed up, frustrated and frightened.

buddha-ish − Therapeutic deception. I’m living it right now- taking care of my dad while my mom is on week 3 in the hospital. It’s hard, and awful, and I’m glad I can do it. One example- he’s now repeating over and over how much he and my mother are in love, always have been, each other’s soul mate.

Uh, I was here for the last 44 years, Dad, and that’s not true at all... but what kind of d**k would I have to be to correct him? He’s happy now, and I’m hoping it stays that way.... F**k Dementia. F**k it with a rusty spike.

Kstray1 − I went through this with my grandma. She would constantly ask about her father who was long gone, we responded similarly to your example. The worst was really the paranoias. Her decline was quick, we didn’t know at the time that she was suffering a series of very small strokes and with each one was a marked decline.

One of the worst was at her last “home” she couldn’t bath herself and didn’t understand toilet paper.... she kept trying to wrap it around her feet. The best was that even though she couldn’t remember our names (she thought I was my mother my times) there would be a spark of facial recognition and a kind of “Ohhhh!” response.

She didn’t quite know who I was but she knew it was good to see me. She was truly a shell of herself when she finally passed, I wouldn’t have recognized her on the street. But I’m happy she’s no longer trapped in the prison that stole her independence and life. And now I’m crying lol. Love you grandma! Xoxo

AllMyBeets − I work with dementia patients. Last week I was emphatically informed my client would be leaving for Maine tomorrow and she needed to go pack. Took me 10 minutes to convince her we would pack after Golden Girls. By which time it was lunch and the distraction from the itchy thought continued.

She's not going to Maine. We've told her multiple times in multiple different ways she's not and why. It just makes her unhappy. Now I give her something to fiddle with ans turn on the TV and she cant keep her thoughts together long enough to protest I'm not packing her water proof shoes

captainmikkl − Worked on an Alzheimer's/dementia ward as a MedAid. My co-workers didn't agree with my

So forcing them to spend any of those fleeting moments in a horrible reality, is cruel, and considering you can't physically restrain patients, lying to Eleanor about there being ice cream in her room when she's determined to walk into the street to look for her long dead dog, is practical.

[Reddit User] − I wish I could convince my wife of that. She is going through this with her mother and I keep telling her that she doesn't have to convince her mom that her memories are wrong. I see it causing so much stress for the both of them.

i_swear_too_muchffs − I’m an Alzheimer’s/dementia nurse and have been for 15 years. Whenever I’m training a new employee one of the first things I instruct is never, ever argue with them, they won’t get it and you’ll just end up frustrating each other.

Try and give meds to an argumentative demented person- doesn’t work so well. Instead of trying to orient the person with dementia to our world, orient yourself to theirs. Compassion, empathy, humour and song are so much more productive. RIP grandpa

purplepeopleater205 − My mum passed end of last year, my nan used to try and tell her things like the cat she had to give away (because she couldn't care for it) had passed away but she would never remember. The day before she died she told my nan that the cat had been to visit her, I like to think he was waiting for her.

[Reddit User] − I did this for a table once when i was serving. The daughter clearly distressed after trying to explain to her father that he lost his ring years ago for the dozenth time i came in and said “you lost your ring oh well im going to take your daughter to get all the information so if we find it we can contact you” i took the daughter aside and told her my grandmother also suffered from dementia and that it is really easier to just go along than it was to struggle against them.

We got back to the table and i let him know we would be looking for his ring he brought it up a few more times and i was there to the rescue and let him know we would contact him if we found it. That seemed to help both the elderly gentleman and the daughter

This improv-inspired tip is like a soft blanket for dementia’s rough edges—simple, loving, and deeply human. It reminds us that connection trumps correction, letting us hold onto joy amid loss. Will you try saying “yes, and” with someone you love? What’s a way you’ve kept their spirit bright through dementia’s haze? Share your stories in the comments—let’s trade some heartfelt wisdom!

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