Help Keep the Caregiver Stories Coming

If this newsletter has helped you, would you consider supporting it?

Every week, I pour my heart into these words to make your caregiving journey a little lighter and less lonely. Many of you have shared how these stories have brought comfort, perspective, or even a smile on a hard day.

If you’ve ever found a moment of relief or recognition here, I hope you’ll consider tipping—$5, $10, or whatever feels right to you. Your support helps me keep writing, and reminds me how much this work matters.

[Support the Newsletter – It Only Takes a Moment]

Thank you for being part of this community.

Caregiver’s Corner: Askers, Guessers, and Dementia Communication

I think we all have our own special ways of being frustrated. For me, when I get frustrated (or angry, or whiny, or other things I’m not happy to admit to), I’m generally trying to communicate that I don’t feel like someone is listening.

In many ways, I think that my “style” of getting upset mirrors a lot of what happens for a person with dementia who becomes upset. I’m going to start today’s column by talking about two different communication styles, and then I’ll tie it back to dementia communication.

So, not long ago, a friend pointed out to me the different between asking and guessing styles of communication. Askers use their words and state clearly what they want. It’s a direct way of communicating where “yes” means “yes,” and “no” means “no.” This is my partner’s style of communication. When she needs something or feels a certain way, she says so. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

I am trying to be more like her, but I grew up in a guessing family. I had two older half-brothers, but I was a surprise for my May-December mother and father, so the brothers were out of the house by the time I can remember anything. I grew up as essentially an only child with two parents who worked out of our home.

We had an intricate method of communication, based on tone of voice and etiquette. For instance, it was impolite to say “no” to a request. In order to say “no,” the way we would say “yes” had to signal “no” somehow. The person receiving the “yes” must be so in tune with the other person that they would realize by indirect methods that you’re actually saying NO! It’s remarkably subtle, indirect, and incomprehensible to people outside of that small circle.

Here’s an example from an interaction with my mom who has dementia: my partner, Chava, and I took my mom out to eat about a year ago, and they had indoor and outdoor seating at the restaurant. Chava loves to sit outside in the nice weather, so she asked my mom if that would be ok. Mom said “yes.”

But she didn’t. She really said “no,” but only I could hear that. It was in her tone of voice and body language. However, because Chava is an asker and she didn’t grow up with the baffling communication we used in my family, there was no way for her to know that. Additionally, because of mom’s dementia, she didn’t necessarily have the words to advocate for her desires even if she did want to go against the flow. She defaulted to my family’s version of polite.

“Mom, would you prefer to sit inside?” I asked.

“Well, yes.”

I’m in the inner circle of that guessing relationship with my mom, so I understand communication with my mom in ways that have been refined over almost 50 years. The same thing that allows us to burst into laughter at just a glance at each other also allows me to see needs and decode messages that others can’t hope to understand.

If your loved one is a “guesser,” as dementia becomes more prominent you will have a special insight into your loved one. If they have outside help or live in a community, you may want to have some conversations with caregivers about that communication style.

The really difficult thing, however, is that as dementia progresses everyone becomes a “guesser.” As words slip away and people can’t express their needs, we have to look at those cues.

As difficult as it can be in some ways to come from a family where so much is guessed, unstated, and silently cued, I have had a lifetime of practice understanding my mother beneath the words she is saying. I find that, as language slips away, I still understand much of what she’s feeling. I’m finely attuned to her needs in a way that I couldn’t be if I had grown up in an asking culture.

Every strength has a weakness built into it, and every weakness has a strength. My weakness as a “guesser” is that my feelings can be hurt when my indirect communication is not understood. But my strength is that I read people carefully and wring every iota of meaning out of every gesture and change in tone. I’m very sensitive to what is being said, what is not being said, and what pieces of meaning come from non-verbal cues.

As you communicate with someone who is progressing through dementia, have you made your peace with becoming somewhat of a guesser? At some point, the non-verbal is what will be left. Start cultivating that guessing skill: what does it mean when their eyes flick to something? Do they have a particular look or habit when they need the bathroom? Do they get agitated every time a certain issue comes up?

You don’t have to guess correctly every time: the simple fact that you care enough to dig into the question can often be validating unto itself. When I get frustrated because someone isn’t reading my signals correctly, it always calms my agitation if they just tell me something like “I don’t understand what you’re feeling right now, but I’m trying.” It tells me that they understand that I’m trying too and we both have the same goal. I’m not being difficult on purpose: I’m hurting because someone I care about doesn’t understand me.

If your loved one is frustrated, agitated, or angry, is it possible that it is because they are sending a message that you’re not receiving? Being unheard feels so lonely. I speak from experience. Can we look deeper into what is being (un)said and make some educated guesses to communicate deeper than the spoken, to hear what cannot be said?

As I think about communication, it occurs to me that my mom and I will still catch each other’s glaces and burst into laughter without any word being spoken. I don’t necessarily know what the joke is anymore: maybe we’re just laughing because we understand something no one else does. There is simply a private joy that no one else has access to but the two of us, and sharing that private laughter with her is one of the great blessings of life. We keep the joke in our hearts, not our words. I couldn’t “ask” for more.

📰 Additional Reading 📰

More information on the Ask vs. Guess Cultures from Various Perspectives:

• Navigating ‘Ask’ and ‘Guess’ Cultures in a modern world (Medium): a nice breakdown of Ask and Guess cultures addressed in today’s “Caregiver’s Corner”

• Ask and Guess (GreaterWrong): another take on the subject of Ask vs. Guess and how to navigate the situation. Some of the comments on this article are quite thoughtful.

• Ask vs. Guess Culture at Work (PerformanceFrontiers): a PDF article about how these two cultures can play out in a work situation.