Why Your Loved One Still Deserves to Choose

even when it's inconvenient

Last year, my 80-year-old aunt landed in the hospital with severe COPD. The stairs in her longtime home had become impossible, and the degree of energy needed for basic activities was wearing her down. When she looked at me with worried eyes and asked, "Do you think I could live somewhere else?" I didn't hesitate.

By discharge, we'd found her a cute manageable independent living apartment right next to us (she likes her own space); included prepared meals, social activities, just enough supervision to ease both our minds. She moved in excited about this new chapter.

Here's what I learned: As caregivers, we get so focused on making the "right" decisions for our loved ones that we forget the most important thing we can offer isn't the perfect solution. It's the power to choose.

When "Helping" Becomes "Deciding"

It happens gradually. First, you're helping with big decisions because they're overwhelming. Then you're making smaller choices because it's easier. Before you know it, you're deciding everything from where they live to what they eat to how they spend their day.

The problem? Even with the best intentions, when we make all the decisions, we accidentally send the message: "You're no longer capable of managing your own life."

The Right to Change Your Mind (Yes, Again)

So a year in, my aunt realized the services she thought she wanted weren't what she actually wanted or needed. She rarely used the meal service, preferred her own social connections, and was paying quite a bit for amenities that weren't enhancing her life.

When she mentioned wanting to move again, my first thought was, "Ugh, another move!"

But when she lights when talking about apartment hunting, decorating ideas, and furniture arrangements…

That's when it hit me: She wasn't just talking about changing addresses. She was talking about having something to look forward to, having options, having a say in her own life.

And honestly? If I reach her age someday, wouldn't I want the same thing?

Why Choice Matters More Than Perfect Solutions

Choice preserves identity. When you offer options, you're saying, "You're still you. Your preferences still matter. Your voice still counts."

Options create hope. Sometimes hope looks like choosing between apartments, deciding how to arrange furniture, or planning small improvements. These seemingly ordinary choices provide forward momentum that keeps spirits lifted.

Agency fights depression. Research shows that having control over environment and choices significantly impacts mental health. When older adults feel they have no say in their lives, depression often follows. When they maintain decision-making power, they often thrive.

The "Stability" Trap

As caregivers, we sometimes prioritize physical stability over emotional wellbeing. We find a "good enough" situation and want everyone to stay put because change feels risky and exhausting.

But what if we redefined stability?

True stability isn't about staying in one place forever. It's about having the security to make changes when needed, knowing that love and support will remain constant even as circumstances shift.

My aunt's excitement about her upcoming move reminded me that at 80, she still deserves to feel excited about her future. She still deserves projects, goals, and things to look forward to.

The fact that it means another move for our family? Insignificant compared to the joy in her voice when she describes her new apartment.

How to Offer Options Without Losing Your Mind

Giving choices doesn't mean overwhelming them with endless possibilities or abandoning your caregiving responsibilities. It means creating manageable options within safe parameters. And I do maintain the boundaries.

Start small: "Would you like lunch at the table or in your chair?" "Should we take our walk now or after your show?"

Present realistic alternatives: Don't offer choices you can't support, but do present real options. "We found three apartments in your budget. Want to visit them and see which feels right?"

Include them in problem-solving: Instead of presenting solutions, involve them in finding answers. "The stairs are getting difficult. What ideas do you have?"

Respect their timeline: Unless safety is at immediate risk, allow time to think. Rushed choices often feel like no choice at all.

Honor their priorities: What matters to them might surprise you. My aunt values independence over amenities, excitement over ease, and the joy of planning over staying settled.

When Choices Feel Hard

Sometimes the options aren't ideal. Sometimes choosing between difficult alternatives feels more like burden than gift.

Remember: Choice isn't about providing perfect solutions. It's about preserving dignity and agency even within constraints.

The Caregiver's Choice

By giving our loved ones choices, we also make our own most important choice: We choose to see them as whole people rather than problems to manage. We choose love over control. We choose their dignity over our convenience.

These choices transform us too. Instead of feeling like we're carrying impossible burdens, we become partners navigating life's challenges together. Instead of feeling responsible for fixing everything, we become facilitators of choice and advocates for agency.

The Real Gift

Offering choices isn't really about apartments or meal plans or daily schedules. It's about recognizing that the need for agency, dignity, and hope doesn't diminish with age or illness.

Sometimes the most loving thing we can do is step back from trying to manage everything and ask: "What would make you happy? What would give you something to look forward to?"

Within whatever constraints we're working with, there are almost always some choices to be made, some preferences to honor, some small ways to let our loved ones remain the authors of their own stories.

When we give the gift of choice, we receive something precious in return: the joy of watching someone we love light up with possibility, even in their most vulnerable seasons.

That spark of excitement about what comes next is worth every logistical challenge, every extra effort, every moment of temporary inconvenience.

Because love isn't about making all the right decisions for someone. Love is about making sure they still get to make some decisions for themselves.

And sometimes, that makes all the difference between surviving and thriving, between existing and truly living.

What's one area where you could offer your loved one more choices, even small ones?
Sometimes the smallest options create the biggest sense of freedom.