Nau Mai! Welcome Back.

Embracing Change:

Growth, Challenge, and Resilience on the Dementia Journey

I hadn’t realised how much time had passed since my last post—life has been full, and so much has unfolded since our last kōrero.

Time has a way of slipping by when you’re caring for someone you love and adapting to the ongoing changes that dementia brings. Over the past few months, I’ve experienced a number of shifts—some expected, some not—that have been both challenging and rewarding. These changes have reminded me just how important it is to pause, reflect, and acknowledge how far we’ve come.

I’ve come to see change not just as something to survive, but as a pathway to growth. It stretches us, challenges our assumptions, and invites us to adapt. Through this process, we often uncover inner strength we didn’t know we had. Learning to bend without breaking builds resilience—and resilience is something we need in abundance as carers.

Of course, change is not always easy—especially when dementia is part of the equation. Finding balance is crucial. We want to embrace new routines or supports that might improve quality of life, while also preserving the familiar things that bring comfort and connection. This balance allows the person living with dementia to maintain a sense of identity and dignity, even as their needs evolve. Positive changes—when introduced gently and with love—can foster independence, spark moments of joy, and strengthen engagement. But they also require us, as carers, to stay flexible and compassionate, both with our loved ones and ourselves.

As I continue on this journey, I remind myself that adapting doesn’t mean letting go of who we are. It means growing into what’s needed, moment by moment. And in that space—between what was and what is becoming—we find courage, clarity, and deep connection.

This reminds me of a beautiful Māori perspective of time, where the past, present, and future are not separate but deeply intertwined. As Dr. Ranginui Walker (1996) describes, we do not leave the past behind us—we carry it forward. Our tūpuna (ancestors) walk with us, not only in the spiritual realm but also within us and alongside us in the everyday. This view offers strength and comfort, especially in the hardest moments. We are never alone; we are part of a continuum, where those who came before us continue to guide and steady us.

Kia whakatōmuri te haere whakamua

‘I walk backwards into the future with my eyes fixed on my past.’

This conceptualisation of time does not leave the past behind; rather, one carries one’s past into the future. The strength of carrying one’s past into the future is that ancestors are ever present, existing both within the spiritual realm and in the physical, alongside the living as well as within the living. (Walker, 1996)

Sharing is Caring:

I’d like to share our recent experience of moving house and how it impacted not only my mother, who lives with dementia, but everyone in our household. I share this with the hope that it may support someone else going through a similar journey.

This wasn’t a move from aged care or into supported accommodation—it was a family move to a new home. But as I’ve learned, relocating someone living with dementia can be just as emotionally and cognitively challenging, no matter the context. With careful planning, patience, and a little creativity, however, the transition can be made smoother. I know this because I’ve done it—twice now—including when we moved countries from Aotearoa (New Zealand) to Australia.

I want to gently remind readers that every person with dementia is different. What worked for us may offer guidance or simply spark ideas that you can shape to suit your own situation. My mother has progressed further along her dementia journey since our move from Aotearoa, and that meant I needed to shift too—adjusting how I support her and how I prepare our space for her comfort.

One of the biggest challenges during a move is managing disorientation. For someone living with dementia, changes in environment can trigger confusion, especially around time, place, and routine. To help, I made sure my mother’s space felt familiar. Before the move, I carefully packed her favourite belongings—clothing, bedding, family photos, albums, her bed and side tables, and even her TV. These things weren’t just “items”—they were anchors to memory, comfort, and identity.

Emotionally, I prepared her by keeping explanations simple and reassuring. I focused on the positives she could relate to: a sunnier garden to sit and read in, a bathroom located just beside her room (which was a big improvement), and a more open, uncluttered living space for calm and quiet.

The first space we set up in the new house was her room. We made it feel settled, familiar, and welcoming right from day one—even while the rest of the house was still filled with unpacked boxes (and still is!). Looking back, I’m so glad we did this. Her sense of peace and recognition in the new space gave us all a sense of reassurance. Mum told me, “This room is wonderful,” and within days was referring to the house as if we’d been living here much longer.

Thank goodness for patience, preparation, and a little bit of flexibility.

Final Thoughts

If you’re supporting someone with dementia through a move, know that the process doesn’t have to be overwhelming. With small, thoughtful steps, it’s possible to create a sense of familiarity and emotional safety—even in a new environment. Change is hard, but it can also bring comfort, space, and opportunity when handled with love.

Kia kaha, kia māia, kia manawanui – Be strong, be brave, be steadfast!

Pai Aroha