The Move: Stress, Change, and Gentle Reminders
We just moved a couple of days ago. Even before the first box was packed, I knew what kind of impact it would have on Doug. I wasn’t wrong, though I still wasn’t fully prepared for how quickly it showed up.
From the initial thought of selling to move-in day was only seven weeks. That’s a compressed timeline for anyone. Preparing a home, decluttering, fluffing it to my expectations, professional photos, arranging movers, switching utilities, and scheduling two signing appointments,… it’s enough to overwhelm even without the extra layer of dementia. It’s a good thing I had a great broker, she earned her fee on this one!
As the days and weeks flew by, I could see the unrest building in Doug. My focus was simple: get moved and settle quickly, so familiar routines and old habits could return, giving him a sense of comfort. Still, I noticed changes almost immediately.
Doug is no longer able to understand even basic directions. He also can’t communicate when he doesn’t understand. I found myself repeating instructions over and over, thinking it would help, silly me. It didn’t. What worked instead was stopping, showing him, or completing the task myself.
This has become my mantra: Patience. Deep breaths. Gentle self-talk. I remind myself this is not his fault. This is the progression of the disease. Holding on to that truth helps me keep my sanity and lowers the stress for both of us and the house.
The logistics of all this self-imposed chaos: pulling out cat condos, and litter boxes, wrangling two cats, two dogs, and one slow-moving love to go for a drive during photos, an open house or showing. And all while keeping daily life running. I didn’t have time to be tired.
Before making the decision, I had to weigh the pros and cons of moving at this stage in Doug’s dementia journey. On one hand, staying put meant less disruption for him and fewer changes to navigate. On the other, after a neighbor filed a complaint against me for operating a business out of my home is what set this all in motion. Yes, I had a professional face-to-face conversation with the couple and representation of the HOA board but it was too late. My home no longer felt like my sanctuary. In the end, I knew the move itself would be hard on Doug, but I also knew that once we were settled, the new environment would support us better. It was about choosing short-term disruption for the possibility of long-term stability and being closer to my sister.
And here is the real point: I often share with our support group why it’s so important to know what stage of the disease your person is in. Without that knowledge, it becomes harder and much more stressful to manage changes like this. Educating myself about dementia’s progression helps me better understand what Doug can and cannot do, what to expect, and how to adapt my care. That understanding doesn’t erase the stress, but it gives me a framework to respond with patience instead of frustration.
This move has reminded me again: my peace of mind and my patience are not luxuries. They’re lifelines. For me. For Doug. For us.
