Caregivers, don't become control freaks: finding balance in dementia care

Feeling overwhelmed by the endless details of managing your loved one's life? Discover why letting go of total control is the greatest gift you can give to their well-being—and your own peace of mind.

When you are a primary caregiver responsible for the daily well-being of your father, mother, or a loved one, it is incredibly easy to become obsessed with the minor details. You want to make absolutely sure your dad isn't eating expired food, so you find yourself smelling everything in his refrigerator. You notice that your mom's hair looks oily, so you insist she let you wash it immediately. "And take off that blouse you've been wearing all week and put on a clean one," you might add. It all comes from a place of deep love, but it can quickly cross the line into survival-driven control.

The slippery slope of caregiving control

I am not sure if this is a trait shared by all caregivers, but I know I was quite the control freak when, as a student, I was responsible for the care of a patient living in a nearby assisted-living facility. I kept an incredibly sharp eye out for his special needs—like obsessively checking that there were always facial tissues and toilet paper in his bathroom. With his severe short-term memory loss, he certainly wouldn't remember to restock those items himself, and I didn't want him reaching for a hand towel to wipe with—or worse yet, not wiping at all!

Looking back, that controlling behavior started with the absolute best of intentions to make things safer and better for him. However, it didn't take long to escalate into excess. Not only did I become obsessed with keeping everything perfect, but I also expected everyone else who visited him to take care of him exactly the way I did.

Chasing perfection vs. providing companionship

Yet, what this man really loved about visits from his family and friends wasn't a pristine environment; he just loved playing cards with them. That is what truly meant something to him when someone walked through his door—not the fact that his laundry was perfectly folded.

He loved to play cards with me, too. Sadly, looking back, I am sometimes afraid that I was so consumed by the physical housekeeping that I accidentally neglected his simplest and deepest need: my undivided companionship and presence.

Preserving dignity and independence

Because I became so efficient at managing his life, I sometimes overstepped and did tasks for him that he was still perfectly capable of doing for himself. I distinctly remember a moment when someone sent him a tin of cookies wrapped tightly in heavy tape. As I watched him struggle to get it off, my instinct was to immediately grab the tin out of his hands and do it for him.

Fortunately, I held myself back that time. It took him a while, but he got to experience the pure satisfaction of opening it himself. It may take significantly longer for our loved ones with dementia to complete everyday tasks, but whenever safe, we must let them try. Preserving their independence is a fundamental part of preserving their dignity.

What truly remains at the end of the journey

Now that this gentleman has passed away, the moments I remember best are not the hours I spent driving him to doctors or dealing with cleaning issues. Instead, the memories that shine the brightest are the ones that made him genuinely happy in a special way—the quiet, fun days we simply shared together.

Please don't misunderstand me: housekeeping, proper grooming, and medical appointments are incredibly important. Paying attention to those details directly protects their quality of life. As a primary caregiver, you have to manage those things, and that heavy responsibility is exactly what drives us to become control freaks in the first place.

But it is equally important to learn how to relax and just let go at times. If you are constantly tense, in a hurry, and hyper-focused on managing every second of their existence, you will miss out on the opportunity to share meaningful, heartfelt experiences with them. You never know how many of those calm opportunities you have left, and you will not want to look back with regret. So stop. Sit down. Have a cup of tea, and just be together.

I have learned so much since my days as a medical student. Today, my caregiving philosophy is built entirely around holistic well-being. At the end of the day, that is what truly counts. That is what both you and your loved one will remember: the shared smiles and pleasant experiences, not the washing of the greasy hair.