One of the most common concerns we hear most often from care partners is this:
“They just don’t want to do anything anymore.”

It’s often said with a mix of frustration, sadness, and worry. You’ve suggested activities. You’ve set things out. You’ve encouraged. And they just aren’t interested. 

When motivation is low, it’s easy to assume that a person living with dementia no longer wants to do the things that they once loved. Withdrawal, disinterest, or low activity levels are often chalked up as “just part of the disease.” 

But in our experience, this assumption is usually not accurate. 

Is it a Lack of Motivation or a Loss of Confidence? 

Dementia affects more than memory. 

It changes how confident a person feels, how safe they feel trying something new, and how willing they are to initiate an activity independently. Once automatic tasks may now require significant effort and concentration. 

When everyday actions become difficult, hesitation sets in. A person may worry about doing something incorrectly. They may feel embarrassed. They may believe they are no longer capable at all.

What looks like apathy or lack of motivation is often self-protection.

Because dementia is highly stigmatized, many people living with cognitive changes become acutely aware of their vulnerabilities. Avoidance can feel safer than risking failure or embarrassment.

How to Motivate Someone with Dementia: Start Small and Build

Caregivers often expect engagement to happen quickly: “I set it up—why won’t they just try?”

But motivation rarely works that way in dementia. For motivation to take root, we need a few other ingredients: interest and confidence. 

Interest often builds slowly. Before a person joins in, they may need time to simply notice what’s happening:

• Watching from across the room

• Sitting beside you while you do the activity

• Holding an object without using it 

These moments matter. They’re not “nothing”—they’re part of the process, early stages of engagement.

Instead of asking someone to jump in right away, start with smaller invitations that let interest grow naturally. For example:

• “Want to watch me for a minute?”

• “Could you help me with just this one part?” (fold one towel, sort a few cards, place a few pieces, stir once or twice)

• “Can you hand me the blue one?”

Then you build from there—slowly increasing involvement as their comfort and curiosity increases.

Engagement Often Comes From Unexpected Moments

Caregivers are not always correct about what a person will enjoy and what they won’t. And that’s okay.

Something you assume they’ll love might not land. Something you think they’ll dislike might suddenly capture their attention. Keep an ear out for engaging opportunities based on what the person says and does in the moment: 

• A comment they make

• A glance toward an object

• A rhythm they tap

• A story they start to tell

• A repeated motion they seem drawn to

Often, the best activities aren’t the ones we plan; they’re born from spontaneous moments.

Confidence grows through success

The best place to start is with activities the person can succeed at quickly and clearly—small “wins” that feel doable. Start with activities that are:

• Familiar

• Simple

• Easy to complete

Small “wins” matter. Each successful experience reinforces the belief: I can do this.

From there, you can add complexity gradually to keep the challenge level just right—not too easy, not too hard. (If it’s too hard, people shut down. If it’s too easy, people lose interest.)

The Tom Sawyer Approach to Dementia Engagement

The “Tom Sawyer approach” is a method we can use to make an activity look compelling and interesting. To use the Tom Sawyer approach, set up a simple activity near the person that you think they will succeed at (an Aegeliss Puzzle book would be a good activity to try). You can say something like:

• “Is it okay if I work on this here?” or

• “I’m going to work on this puzzle for a bit—don’t pay me any attention!”

The goal is to let their natural curiosity lead them toward hands-on engagement. Once you’re set up, start doing the activity—but do it POORLY. This is important. Go slow, make mistakes, look a little frustrated. Start over from the beginning.

As they watch you struggle with something they know they can do, the urge to jump in often grows. When the person makes a remark about what you’re doing, invite them to help. We don’t want them to take over the task yet; instead, we want to help them grow their confidence by being a capable parter in this activity. When the activity is finished, pay them a compliment (building confidence) and thank them for helping. Finally, ask them if they enjoyed doing the activity and if they would like to do it again sometime. 

Dr.Camp explaining the Tom Sawyer Approach (Video credit: Center for Applied Research in Dementia)

Rethinking “Purposeful Activities” in Dementia Care

Purposeful activity isn’t about doing something perfectly. It’s about doing something meaningful. 

Everyday tasks—like folding laundry—can be deeply purposeful for someone living with dementia because they are: 

• Familiar

• Highly practiced

• Linked to contribution and self-worth 

• Sensory-rich. The fresh smell of laundry and the warm fabrics from the dryer have pleasant sensory qualities

Of course, everyone is different (whether they are living with dementia or not), and there is no way to say for certain that folding laundry is going to be something enjoyable for your loved one. The point here is that we don’t necessarily have to create custom materials and activities to get a person engaged.  Look for comfortable, familiar everyday tasks that can contribute to a sense of purpose. 

Let Go of “The Right Way”

Engagement isn’t about accuracy. It’s about participation, expression, and presence.

If your loved one is engaged—and if they are safe—it truly does not matter if the towels are folded perfectly, if the puzzle pieces are sorted “wrong,” or if the task looks different than it once did. Correction can quickly turn an engaging moment into a frustrating one.

There is no right or wrong way to do an activity—think engagement! 

When It’s Emotionally Hard for Caregivers

This part matters, and it doesn’t get talked about enough.

It can be painful to watch someone struggle with something that once came so easily to them. It can stir up grief, frustration, and even a sense of loss. Those feelings are real—and completely understandable.

But comparing how your loved one is doing today to how they used to do something often makes the moment harder for both of you.

Instead, try grounding yourself in the present:

• Who is this person today?

• What can they do right now?

• What brings comfort or connection in this moment?

When we meet someone where they are, rather than where they used to be, we create space for motivation to show up again.

Won’t They Just Forget Anyway? 

At this point, you might be thinking: Even if this works today… won’t they just forget it tomorrow?

And honestly—that’s a fair question. 

Dementia affects a person’s ability to remember events in a clear, detailed way. They may not recall that you did a puzzle together, or that they helped you fold towels, or that you played music after lunch. 

So how can this be a long-term strategy?

Two reasons: emotion and learning—and emotion comes first.

Emotion often lasts longer than memory.
A person may forget the conversation, the song, or the game… but the positive feelings can remain. The calm. The sense of connection. The pride of getting something “right.” The comfort of being with you. The quiet satisfaction of being useful. These good feelings that happen during the activity can last far longer than our memory of the actual event. 

In other words, each engagement that creates a positive emotion can have effects that extend beyond the person’s ability to remember the episode that caused it.

Unfortunately, the reverse is true as well. When a person experiences something negative or stressful, the resulting bad mood often sticks around even after they forget what set it off. In senior living communities, residents often learn which care staff they like (and don’t like) through these repeated emotional experiences.

And this is where learning comes in.

Even when “story memory” fades—the kind that lets someone say, “Yesterday we did this activity and I liked it”—other kinds of learning can still be surprisingly strong. Many people living with dementia can still learn through repetition and association. They may not remember all the details of the last time they did the activity, but with repetition they can begin to form an (often unconscious) association between the activity and how it makes them feel. The more times an activity leads to a positive emotional experience, the stronger that association grows.

Their body can begin to recognize the rhythm and feeling of it. The steps become easier. The resistance softens. A routine starts to form.

You might notice:

• They sit down more quickly than they used to.

• They reach for the materials without being prompted.

• They follow along with fewer cues.

• They seem more settled once the activity begins.

That is learning. It’s just a different kind than we’re used to measuring.

Motivation in Dementia Comes from Emotional Safety

In dementia care, we often have to shift the question from “Will they remember this?” to “How will this leave them feeling?”

If an activity helps someone feel capable, included, calmer, or more like themselves—even briefly—that matters. When those moments happen again and again, they don’t disappear just because the person can’t describe them later. They become part of the emotional tone of the day… and sometimes part of the relationship itself.

So yes, they may forget the activity. But the benefits can still stay: in the body, in the mood, and in the sense that life still contains moments that feel good and doable.

And that’s not small. That’s the whole point.

Motivation in dementia doesn’t come from pushing harder. It comes from slowing down, softening expectations, and honoring the person’s experience. When we let go of “the right way” and focus instead on connection, familiarity, and dignity, we often find that motivation begins to return—quietly, gradually, and in its own time.