My Mum often talks about going home when she is home and l have researched possible ways to help with this. Just recently she has been saying l need to go now, my Mum and Dad will be worried about me. They both passed more than 30 years ago. Mum does carry an old photo around of her Mum and Dad and this statement will often happen when she has looked at it.
I need to go home now ...
- Thread starter Prune
- Start date
Hello @Prune, welcome to the forum. I hope you find this to be a friendly and supportive place.
These statements are often an expression of some anxiety as it may not be the place or person that is being sought but the feeling of security and safety that was felt as a child in the parental home.
It would be an idea to talk to your Mum at these moments to see if you can find out why she is anxious as you may be able to resolve that with reassurance or action. Otherwise a chat with the GP may help as depression and anxiety are common bedfellows of dementia.
I hope you can resolve this and that you will keep posting now that you have found us.
These statements are often an expression of some anxiety as it may not be the place or person that is being sought but the feeling of security and safety that was felt as a child in the parental home.
It would be an idea to talk to your Mum at these moments to see if you can find out why she is anxious as you may be able to resolve that with reassurance or action. Otherwise a chat with the GP may help as depression and anxiety are common bedfellows of dementia.
I hope you can resolve this and that you will keep posting now that you have found us.
The wanting to go home is one of the most common symptoms shared by people with dementia. The memories of youth and childhood seem to be stronger than recent memories. It is scary at first and eventually infuriating because there is no solution. I found that when my husband began taking anti depressants this calmed him down and we had fewer going home episodes.
I never show my husband photos of his birth family as I avoid triggering those memories. I also never discuss anything to do with his brothers as he missed them badly at first - he had six brothers. Strangely he never mentions his parents. Concentrate on keeping her busy in the here and now and if it gets too bad talk to the doctor about anti depressants.
I never show my husband photos of his birth family as I avoid triggering those memories. I also never discuss anything to do with his brothers as he missed them badly at first - he had six brothers. Strangely he never mentions his parents. Concentrate on keeping her busy in the here and now and if it gets too bad talk to the doctor about anti depressants.
I have recently said something similar on another thread, but when my mother went through a phase of wanting to see her long dead parents (I didn't want to say they were dead, since she'd have been very upset and would have forgotten whatever I said so quickly anyway) I used to say I couldn't take her today, since the roads were very busy/icy/closed because of a bad accident/my car was being serviced, etc., '...but maybe we could go tomorrow?'
This always kept her reasonably happy for the moment, and because her short term memory was so bad she never remembered that I'd said much the same before.
By this stage I had become so inventive at the good old 'love lies' that sometimes, for the sake of authenticity, I'd add e.g. 'But I'll give them a ring first - we wouldn't want to go all that way and find them out, would we?'
The things dementia can drive you to! But as long as they kept her reasonably contented, I didn't give a hoot how inventive my fibs became.
This always kept her reasonably happy for the moment, and because her short term memory was so bad she never remembered that I'd said much the same before.
By this stage I had become so inventive at the good old 'love lies' that sometimes, for the sake of authenticity, I'd add e.g. 'But I'll give them a ring first - we wouldn't want to go all that way and find them out, would we?'
The things dementia can drive you to! But as long as they kept her reasonably contented, I didn't give a hoot how inventive my fibs became.
Mum’s been saying this with increasing frequency, but as far as I can tell she’s not expressing anxiety (but who knows?). Today at lunch Mum asked who had the car keys and when I replied that I had them she said ‘ because I will want to go to see my mum.’ Now I know not to contradict her and so I nodded and said she could go....but it feels so weird, so empty making to hear her talk like this.
Like @Witzend I would agree and say we'll go the day after tomorrow because I have a dentist appointment, or some such excuse. This would keep my mother reasonably settled - till the next time she asked. As her short term memory was non-existent, I did repeat myself a great deal.
I think this longing to go home is to go somewhere they feel safe and secure. I have heard many stories of people want to "go home" even though they may have lived in the home they were currently in for 30, 40 or 50 years.
I think this longing to go home is to go somewhere they feel safe and secure. I have heard many stories of people want to "go home" even though they may have lived in the home they were currently in for 30, 40 or 50 years.
My late mum was exactly the same - she often said she wanted to go home because she hadn't seen her parents for ages and they'd be worried about her, and also went through a phase of packing bags of random belongings 'to take home' with her. We used similar excuses as the ones above, and also sometimes suggested that she could perhaps write them a letter to tell them all her news - she never actually did so, but the idea seemed to reassure her.
Ironically, nine months down the line from her death and in the middle of the hassles of selling her bungalow, I found myself yesterday wishing that I could 'go home' to my happy and carefree childhood - and suddenly had a better understanding of what she might have been feeling and trying to express.
Ironically, nine months down the line from her death and in the middle of the hassles of selling her bungalow, I found myself yesterday wishing that I could 'go home' to my happy and carefree childhood - and suddenly had a better understanding of what she might have been feeling and trying to express.
