Quick Insights

• When care partners or strangers jump in too quickly, it sends the message: “You can’t.”
  
  

• Survivors need time, space, and support to re-learn independence and rebuild confidence.
  
  

• Well-meaning help can reinforce learned helplessness without anyone realizing it.

• You’ll learn how to pause, partner, and create shared routines that lift both of you up.
  
  

Sometimes, Kindness Backfires

If you’ve ever opened a door for someone, filled in a word, or answered a question on someone’s behalf, you likely meant well. It’s instinctive. It feels kind.

But when that someone has aphasia, it can slowly chip away at something much deeper than communication. It sends the message that trying isn’t worth it. That their voice doesn’t matter.

And that’s exactly how learned helplessness sneaks in.

It’s not about being rude or controlling. Most care partners are trying to make life easier—for both of them. But over time, survivors who are always helped may stop helping themselves. Not because they’re lazy. But because they’ve been unintentionally taught not to try.

This isn’t about blame. It’s about reclaiming.

The “Let Me Do That for You” Trap

It usually starts with good intentions. A rushed morning. A stressful dinner out. A conversation that stalls. And then—"Here, I’ll do it."

But repetition rewires the brain. When someone hears, sees, or feels that their efforts don’t matter, they internalize it. Researchers call this learned helplessness—the belief that no matter what they do, it won’t make a difference.

And that belief gets stronger when others are always doing the talking, the planning, or the deciding.

A 2024 study by Nunn and colleagues used a stigma framework to explain how these patterns show up in everyday life. When people with aphasia are excluded from conversations or treated like their input isn’t needed, it reinforces the idea that they don’t belong or can’t contribute. That’s not just frustrating—it’s damaging to recovery.

This happens in small, silent ways. Waitstaff who look past them. Doctors who talk only to the spouse. Even family members who speak about them instead of with them. Over time, these moments teach the survivor to disappear from their own life.

How We Reinforce It Without Realizing

The toughest part? Most care partners don’t even realize it’s happening.

You’re trying to keep things moving. You want to spare your loved one the struggle. You’re trying to help.

But just like in therapy, the struggle is the work.

Communication expert, Dr. Aura Kagan, explains that when care partners are trained to pause, listen, and wait, they actually unlock participation and self-worth. Her studies show that even when someone has limited verbal output, their competence increases when others treat them as capable partners.

In a different study, Hilari and Byng (2009) found that reduced participation—not language itself—was the greatest predictor of poor quality of life in chronic aphasia. Survivors weren’t always sad about their speech. They were sad about being left out.

Even inside the home, this plays out in tiny ways: who makes decisions, who handles scheduling, who speaks during appointments. Over-accommodation feels helpful in the moment, but it builds a dynamic where one person carries all the agency—and the other fades.

It doesn’t happen because you’re doing something wrong. It happens because you’ve been holding everything together for so long. But without realizing it. Habits like answering for someone or always being the voice instead of their voice, turn into patterns. One time doesn’t create learned helplessness. But hundreds of times? It gets hard to undo. And months or years later, you’re left wondering, “Why won’t he try?”

Matt’s Story: Misunderstood for 23 Years

Matt survived a severe head injury in his twenties. He doesn’t have aphasia, but he does have dysarthria, a motor speech disorder that causes slurred speech. To a stranger, he sounds drunk.

He doesn’t drink. Not even a little. But he’s been treated like a problem in public places for over two decades. More than once, restaurant staff called the police, assuming he was intoxicated. Each time, it was his speech—his difference—that made people uncomfortable.

One night, instead of retreating, Matt tried something new. He handed the waiter an aphasia-friendly card that explained his speech challenges. Then, he took the time to demonstrate how he could improve his clarity—slowing down, over-pronouncing, and inviting the waiter into the process instead of Matt shrinking away.

He told the waiter: “I don’t always do this in public, because it’s exhausting. But I can, if you give me a minute.”

It changed the whole interaction. The waiter’s body language softened. Understanding replaced assumptions. Matt wasn’t invisible anymore.

Most survivors don’t get training on how to speak up. They have to figure it out through awkward moments and exhausting trial and error. But it doesn’t have to take years to reclaim your voice. You don’t need to stumble through a hundred "Matt moments". You can learn what works and how to own it with the right support.

Some survivors even go on to share their stories and advocate for others. The National Aphasia Association’s Ambassador Program is one way people with aphasia are using their voices—on their terms—to raise awareness, reduce stigma, and help others feel less alone.

But you don’t have to learn how to advocate for yourself after aphasia. Our guide, TAKE IT BACK: A Survivor’s Guide to Reclaiming Strength, Dignity, and Confidence After Stroke, is a free guide created just for you...

Survivor, do you want your life back? This is your next right step.

Download the Take It Back guide now

What to Try Instead

You don’t need a clinical degree to start making space. Here are three small shifts that can change everything:

1. Wait longer than feels comfortable.

Most people jump in after just 3–5 seconds. Try counting to ten in your head. Let silence be part of the conversation.

2. Redirect attention back to the survivor.

If someone asks you a question your loved one can answer—even slowly—gently turn to them and say, “Do you want to try answering?”

3. Create shared routines that leave room for effort.

It doesn’t have to be perfect. The goal isn’t speed. It’s participation. One small part of dinner. One choice in the calendar. One opinion asked and valued.

Supported Conversation for Adults with Aphasia (SCA™), developed by Simmons-Mackie and Kagan, teaches partners how to acknowledge competence while providing just enough scaffolding. It’s not about backing away. It’s about backing off, just enough for your person to step forward.

The Next Right Step

If you’ve been helping a lot—more than you’d like to admit—take a breath. You’re not alone. And you’re not failing. You were never given a map for this.

But we’ve built one.

Inside the LIFE Aphasia Collective®, care partners and survivors walk this path together—one small shift at a time. If you want a starting point, take our 2-minute quiz. You'll discover whether you're carrying the full load (Lisa) or holding back in silence (Elena). Then, we’ll show you how to move forward.

Do you know the story of Lisa vs. Elena? 

Two care partners. Two very different paths. Which one are you?

Final Thought

Aphasia doesn’t just change how someone speaks. It changes how they’re seen. But it doesn’t have to stay that way. You have more power than you think—to either reinforce silence or build confidence. Every small pause, every redirection, every shared choice opens a door. And every time you open that door, you make it easier for your person to walk through it.

References

• Hilari, K., & Byng, S. (2009). Health-related quality of life in people with chronic aphasia. PubMed

• Kagan, A., Simmons-Mackie, N., et al. (2008). Training conversation partners for aphasia rehabilitation. PubMed

• Nunn, A., Dove, G., & Stead, M. (2024). Application of the Health Stigma and Discrimination Framework to Aphasia. PubMed

• Simmons-Mackie, N., & Kagan, A. (2007). Supported Conversation for Adults with Aphasia: Methods and results. PubMed

• Worrall, L., Rose, T., & Howe, T. (2011). Aphasia Rehabilitation: “Where do we draw the line?” PubMed