Cultivating a Better Dementia Journey
- Jul 1
- 4 min read
A Summer of Milestones
This week marked a significant milestone for me, and it seemed like the perfect time to share a little summer update.
I've intentionally stepped away from writing newsletters and posting as often because I wanted to devote my energy to finishing something that has been years in the making. This week, I submitted the final manuscript of Better Dementia to my publisher.
It's difficult to describe how excited I am about this milestone. Although I began writing this book only a year and a half ago, it represents thousands of hours of thinking, observing, writing, and rewriting, all shaped by nearly a decade of caring for people living with dementia. While there is still work ahead before publication next year, sending the book to press feels like reaching the summit of a very long climb.
Once I finally came up for air, I turned my attention outside.
What Gardening Is Teaching Me About Dementia
This summer I've been establishing a wildflower garden in my backyard. What began as a patch of weeds is slowly becoming a landscape filled with native grasses and flowering perennials. Every morning I wander outside with a cup of coffee to see what's changed overnight.
Some plants are thriving.
Some are struggling.
Some looked perfect in the garden center but clearly don't like where I planted them.
And every day I find myself making small adjustments—moving a plant, changing my watering schedule, improving the soil, or simply accepting that a particular flower would be happier somewhere else.
In many ways, tending a garden reminds me of writing a book. Progress happens slowly. Most days, the changes are almost imperceptible. There are moments of excitement when something finally blooms, and moments of frustration when healthy-looking plants suddenly wilt or refuse to grow despite my best efforts.
The process requires patience, curiosity, and a willingness to keep learning.
The more I've worked in the garden, the more I realize that many of the lessons I've been learning there are the very same lessons I teach families every day.
Plants thrive only when their environment matches what they need. We wouldn't plant a succulent in a rainforest and expect it to flourish. Likewise, here on the high plains of Wyoming, I've intentionally chosen native grasses and wildflowers that evolved to thrive in our dry climate. I don't want to spend every day rescuing plants that require conditions my yard simply can't provide. Instead, I'm trying to work with nature rather than against it.
That idea is at the heart of how I think about dementia.
Alignment Is More Powerful Than Effort
I spend much of my time helping families understand that the goal is not to force the person with dementia to adapt to the world we need them to understand. The goal is to create an environment that aligns with the reality of how their brain works today.
So often, families unintentionally find themselves asking someone with dementia to do things their brain can no longer support: remember recent conversations, reason through complex situations, follow multi-step instructions, or respond logically to explanations. When those expectations collide with the disease, everyone becomes frustrated.
But when we begin aligning the environment with the brain—simplifying routines, adjusting communication, anticipating challenges, and changing our expectations—the entire system becomes calmer.
Just as the right combination of sunlight, soil, and water allows a garden to flourish, the right environment allows people living with dementia—and the people who love them—to experience a better journey together.
Every Person Needs a Different Environment
No two people living with dementia are the same. Just as every plant has its own needs for sunlight, soil, and water, every person has their own history, personality, routines, relationships, strengths, and vulnerabilities. The principles of dementia care provide the framework, but they must always be filtered through the unique individual you know and love.
When we stop trying to force people to fit the environment and instead shape the environment to fit the person, remarkable things begin to happen. Conversations become calmer. Caregiving becomes more confident. Families become more aligned. The journey doesn't become easy, but it often becomes lighter.
Perhaps that's what tending a garden has been reminding me all summer.
Growth doesn't happen because we demand it. It happens because we create the conditions that allow it.
I'm looking forward to sharing more in the coming months as Better Dementia moves toward publication. Until then, I'll be outside—pulling weeds, celebrating new blooms, and reminding myself that meaningful things almost always grow one small step at a time.
If You Want Help Navigating the Dementia Journey
If you are caring for someone with dementia, you have likely realized how quickly this journey becomes overwhelming.
Most caregivers are trying to figure it out as they go—without a clear understanding of what is happening, or what comes next.
This is the work I do.
I help caregivers understand the what, when, and why of dementia so they can navigate the how with clarity and confidence.
If you want personalized guidance and support as you move through this journey, you can learn more about working with me here:
If you want personalized guidance:
If you prefer a self-paced approach:
Amy Shaw, PA-C, is a dementia care clinician, educator, author, and founder of Better Dementia™, a national education platform for caregivers. She is the author of The Arc of Conversation: A How-to Guide for Goals of Care Conversations (Springer, 2025) and provides self-paced dementia education and one-to-one family support. She helps families understand the what, when, and why of dementia so they can master the how of caregiving.
