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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.

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📰 Non-verbal Communication Resources 📰

Details on the use and understanding of non-verbal communication:

• The Dance of Non-verbal Communication (NLP Courses)

• Nonverbal communication: Learn how to encode & decode signals and cues (Asana)

• Body Language and Behavior Interpretation: A Comprehensive Guide to Nonverbal Communication (NeuroLaunch)

Caregiver’s Corner: When Words Fade — Listening Beyond Language in Dementia

It’s been a long time since I felt like I understood anything my mother was talking about. The key word there is talking, and remembering that makes a big difference. Let me explain…

I’m guessing a lot of the people reading this article are familiar with what I’m writing about here. As her Alzheimer’s disease progressed, mom’s language became more and more vague. “People” were doing “something.” They were up to “this and that” and what could be done? Her language grew hazy, then foggy, and finally opaque.

When she talks, I honestly can’t follow anymore. The key to unlocking her words is beyond my reach, hidden deeply within realms of her brain that are not open to any but her.

Last week, when my mom was in the hospital, I became acutely aware of just how much I didn’t understand in my mom’s experience. As her energy, moods, and cognizance seemed to spiral radically, I felt like a detective who couldn’t crack the case.

Language broke down and I couldn’t strike to the heart of the matter. I felt useless.

This situation reminds me of a Zen story that I love:

The monk doubtless had an idea of how it was all supposed to go. Maybe he had been working up his nerve for years to have this audience. Perhaps he thought he was going to head up to the top of the mountain and get a life-changing Truth bomb from wise old Zhaozhou.

I suspect the monk wanted an erudite sermon, or perhaps a philosophical idea he could hang his hat on. He wanted an answer. If only someone could give him the right words to make sense of it all. Instead, Zhaozhou gave him a chore.

Zhaozhou points out that words are just one way of understanding, but they don’t touch the deepest part of our experience. When my mom loses her ability to be understood through words, our communication is not done. If I bring my full attention to everything she is saying — including that which is beyond words — I can still know so much about how she is experiencing the world.

Mastering Non-verbal Communication

Let’s start with the face. We say the eyes are the gateway to the soul. When we see a smile that goes all the way up to the eyes, that’s called a Duchenne Smile, and it signifies true happiness. What other emotions can you see in the face? Nervousness, sadness, or curiosity, perhaps? Frustration or anger? Love?

What other things can the eyes tell us? Are they heavy with exhaustion? Are they darting around the room with anxiety? Are they wide with fear, or perhaps excitement?

We can also consider the voice itself: even though we may not understand the words, what do the tone, quality, and volume of the voice convey? Are they speaking more quickly or more slowly than usual?

What does posture convey? The way we carry ourselves tells others a great deal about our moods. It’s difficult to have good posture when you’re depressed, and it’s difficult to feel depressed when you have good posture. This is a connection between the brain and body that gives us real insight into others.

Is their breathing fast and shallow or slow and deep?

How about laughter? Are they laughing at all? If so, is it genuine and deep, or shallow and nervous?

Then you can look at things like hygiene. If your loved one has always taken pride in their appearance, make sure you’re aware of any changes in this. Is their hair messy, or are they wearing the same clothes day after day? Perhaps their house has always been meticulously clean, and now you’re starting to see dirty dishes pile up.

One thing I noticed with my mom was a proliferation of sticky notes. Eventually it seemed like every cupboard, cabinet, and drawer was labeled with its contents. Her calendar was rigorously updated because she was having problems remembering events.

When I was helping my mom in the hospital, I asked her a lot of questions. I wasn’t really looking for her verbal answers, because I couldn’t understand what she was trying to tell me. However, I was still able to gauge her ability to hear and respond, her mood based on the tone of her voice, and — for lack of a more scientific term — her awareness based on the light in her eyes.

Since I’ve been helping my mom through her Alzheimer’s disease, I’ve found that I’ve actually become a much better active listener. Instead of relying on just my conversational skills, I’m starting to look at the larger presentation of the people I come into contact with on a daily basis. Am I really listening, not just to their words but to their whole presence?

There are parts of my communication with my mother that are gone forever now. The interesting thing, however, is that so many other avenues of understanding have opened up between us. It’s not the same, of course, and I miss our talks very much.

That said, there is a level of attention that has arisen that I did not need to summon when I could fall back on my preferred medium of communication. Because I have needed to focus carefully, I have been more present for her. Now I’m trying to bring those lessons into my other relationships.

Perhaps it’s a Pyrrhic victory, but I’m taking whatever I can get.