Chair Yoga for Dementia: Hope, Healing, and a Whole Lot of Heart
Check out a systematic review on how yoga can help those with dementia or MCI.
By Bett Bollhoefer
When we think of dementia, we often think of decline—losing memories, losing words, losing pieces of ourselves.
But what if, instead of focusing on what's fading, we turned toward what still shines?
What if there were simple, gentle ways to spark joy, connection, and even brain health—right here, right now?
💫 Enter yoga.
Not the twist-yourself-into-a-pretzel kind.
Not the “hot and sweaty” kind.
We’re talking slow, steady, chair-supported yoga. The kind that meets you exactly where you are.
This is where I come in.
I’m Bett Bollhoefer—yoga teacher, foot nerd, and wellness guide with a deep love for helping people move, breathe, and feel more like themselves again. And one of the things I love most? Teaching chair yoga to people living with dementia and mild cognitive impairment (MCI).
It’s not about fixing or curing—it’s about reconnecting, empowering, and softening the edges of a really tough journey.
🧠 What the Science Says
There’s a growing body of research—like this systematic review—that shows yoga may help support people with dementia and cognitive decline.
But if you're more of a “show me, don’t tell me” kind of person, let me walk you through what I see in class every week.
✨ What Chair Yoga Can Do (Even in the Face of Dementia)
🌀 1. Loosen Up, Literally
Dementia can make everyday movements feel harder—stiff joints, weak muscles, less coordination.
Chair yoga offers gentle stretches and playful movement that improve mobility without overwhelm.
We wave at imaginary clouds. We stomp like dinosaurs. We breathe like lions.
It’s low-pressure and low-impact—but it gets things moving.
🌬️ 2. Melt Stress and Anxiety
Living with dementia isn’t just confusing—it’s stressful. And that stress gets stored in the body.
Through calming breathwork and simple mindfulness practices, we help the nervous system settle down.
Think of it like a mini spa for the brain.
🌈 3. Lift Spirits
Yoga is a sneaky mood-booster.
Whether it’s laughing over silly poses or simply sharing space with others, people leave class brighter.
Some smile more. Some talk more. Some just sit with a little more ease.
All of it matters.
🧠 4. Gently Wake Up the Brain
Yoga isn’t just for the body—it’s a full-body-brain practice.
Coordinating breath and movement, staying present, following simple instructions—all of this keeps those neural pathways lit up.
It’s not a cure. But it’s good stimulation.
And it’s way more fun than crossword puzzles.
🤗 5. Offer Dignity, Voice, and Agency
Here’s what I love most: yoga gives people a chance to choose.
To move how they want.
To speak if they want.
To listen to their own body and say “yes” or “no.”
In a world that often takes decisions away from people with dementia, that tiny act of self-expression is radical.
🦶 6. Don’t Forget the Feet (They’re Kind of a Big Deal)
In every class, we also spend time on foot and toe exercises—and no, it’s not just because I’m a certified foot nerd (which I am). Your feet are your foundation, and research shows that foot strength and balance are directly linked to cognitive health and longevity. I wrote about it on my blog, but the short version is: when you keep your toes moving and your arches strong, you're not just helping your mobility—you’re lighting up your brain. It’s one of the fastest, simplest ways to stay sharp, upright, and connected to your body. Plus, wiggling your toes is weirdly fun.
💛 So, Why Yoga?
Chair yoga isn’t a miracle cure. But it is a small, steady lifeline—a way to reconnect with the body, with joy, with breath, and with each other.
I’ve seen people who barely spoke light up during class.
I’ve seen caregivers cry with relief.
I’ve seen quiet breakthroughs wrapped inside gentle stretches.
If you or someone you love is living with cognitive changes, start small.
One deep breath. One stretch. One moment of presence.
The magic is in the practice.
🧘♀️ Want to Try It?
Come join me for a class—or reach out.
I’d love to share what I’ve learned from this wise, resilient community.
Let’s move.
Let’s breathe.
Let’s remember what’s still possible.
