I am involved in various volunteering opportunities. I help out at a lunch club at my local church, volunteer with a theatre company for adults with learning disabilities and, during the winter months, I volunteer at a night shelter for homeless people. I volunteer as an expert by experience with Oxford Health. That last one involves going to meetings and sharing my experience with mental health services, trying to give some insight from the other side of the clipboard, you know?
I’ve been volunteering for a long time now. I think it started back in 2017, at the Princess Centre. Just helping out for a few days a week. At the time, I was working as an office manager, and I decided to come off my mental health meds. Honestly, I really struggled with the emotions that came flooding back. It was like I’d been living in a bubble and suddenly someone burst it. I felt so angry, like my whole life had been a bit of a lie.
And being an office manager didn’t help. It was just constant moaning. Everyone moaned. About everything. So I stepped back. Took some time out. And then I decided I’d try volunteering — just to keep busy. The beauty of it was, if I couldn’t cope, I didn’t have to go. No pressure. No responsibility. No one breathing down my neck.
I spent time with people with learning disabilities and older people — playing games, singing, doing a bit of basic maths, drawing, making things. Just stuff that was… nice. Joyful. Real.
Then one thing led to another. I worked in an Oxfam shop for a bit, then volunteered at the Wycombe Central Aid Furniture Project. I was there five days a week, doing admin and helping with grants. And pretty quickly, they offered me a job. The chair of the charity didn’t want to lose me, which was flattering — they were worried I’d get bored and leave. I wasn’t planning to, but I took the job anyway.
The funny thing is, I kept volunteering there as well. Basically doing the same role unpaid as I was being paid for. But because I chose to do it, I didn’t feel like they were taking advantage. It was my decision, and I really loved the charity.
Then COVID hit. Everything stopped. I got furloughed. And when things started back up again, I just couldn’t face going back. The health anxiety was through the roof. So I left.
At one point, I’d really wanted to be an actress. But my mental health got in the way of that too. So after things started to stabilise a bit, I decided I wanted to work in a role helping people in need.
That’s how it all came about.
Volunteering’s been part of my life for eight years now. I’ve had paid jobs in between — like working in a care home for people with dementia — but some jobs just aren’t for you. I wanted it to be, I really did. I wanted to make a difference. But it just wasn’t the right environment for me.
At the heart of it, I like having something to do. I like feeling needed. I think I have this deep need to feel useful. Like I’ve got a purpose. And when I’m helping other people, I feel like I matter.
I’ve got borderline personality disorder. One thing about people with BPD — we’re often brilliant at helping others but rubbish at helping ourselves. We’ll do anything to make sure no one else has to go through what we’ve been through. But looking after ourselves? Not so much.
I think that’s part of why I throw myself into volunteering. There’s also a practical side to it. It builds up a solid work history. Shows reliability. Especially if you’re aiming to work in public services. It’s like getting your foot in the door, proving yourself quietly until someone notices.
That said, I’m not sure I ever want to stop volunteering. Even if I got a full-time job tomorrow, I think I’d still want to keep doing some volunteering. It’s fun. I enjoy using my skills to make a difference to other people
Over the years, my reasons for volunteering have shifted a bit depending on the place. With the theatre company, part of it is about using my acting skills — I’ve got a degree in it, after all. I can’t be a full-time actress; it’s too stressful. But this way, I get to act and enjoy it, without the pressure.
I’ve always volunteered with the intention of helping people. I wouldn’t give my time to an organisation I didn’t believe in. But there’s always been that mix of wanting to make a difference and wanting to build up my own experience too.
The idea of getting a paid job is still there — of course it is. We all want to earn a living. But it’s got to be the right job. One that makes a difference. I’m not willing to take just anything. And even if I do find the right job, I’d still want to keep volunteering in some way. Because it’s part of who I am now.
I suppose volunteering has helped me feel more connected to the local community… kind of. Especially through places like the Princess Centre and the lunch club. I spent about a year and a half at the Princess Centre, so I got to know loads of adults with learning disabilities in the area. They still recognise me when I’m out and about — we say hello, have a quick chat. That sort of thing.
I also volunteer at my local church — I’ve even worked in the church office — so that’s helped me get to know people.
A memorable moment, with a real emotional impact — something that really made me stop and go “wow” — it was probably when I was volunteering at Central Aid. A person came in, just to thank me. They told me their whole story — how hard their life had been, and how much I’d helped change it. It was me that had sorted the grant, done the admin, been the voice on the other end of the phone. And they were so grateful.
I didn’t really know what to do with that. I don’t see myself as anyone special. But I had made a real difference to that person’s life, and hearing them say it out loud — yeah, that hit me.
Volunteering’s also been good for my own friendships. Not necessarily through the volunteering itself — I’ve made some mates, sure — but more because it’s helped me be a happier version of myself. When I was really unwell, I wasn’t the best company. Volunteering gave me structure, something to talk about, a reason to get out of bed and not fall back into old habits
I’ve faced challenges, too. I’ve got a physical disability, which means I get tired more easily. But I’ve learned how to work within my limits, how to ask for help, and how to make things manageable. Most people I’ve worked with have been brilliant about that.
That said, I’ve been in places where the health and safety standards weren’t great — which is frustrating, especially because I used to be responsible for it in a previous job. I’ve got a qualification and everything. But as a volunteer, you can only raise issues so many times before you’re seen as a nuisance. And some places just don’t want to hear it.
Another challenge I’ve found is something I call “perceived competence.” Basically, on a good day, I can do anything. So people assume I’m always capable of doing everything. And they give me more and more responsibility until it becomes too much. Charities don’t do it on purpose — it’s just that if you’re helpful and reliable, they lean on you more.
I’ve had to learn to put boundaries in place. To say, “Actually, I can’t take that on.” Because I used to take on everything. And part of that came from a place of wanting to be needed. The more I did, the more they’d need me, right? But it doesn’t work like that. Sometimes, it just burns you out.
I’ve written full policies and procedures for organisations as a volunteer. For free. And while I don’t regret it, I can see now that I gave too much at times.
But still — those moments where you see the difference you’ve made? That makes it all worth it. Walking into Jigsaw and having people run across the room to hug me, wanting to sit in my group, remembering little things about my life — that gets me every time.
There’s one person in particular. He doesn’t even like cats, but he always asks how my cat is. And how my husband is. He wants to marry me, apparently, but he still remembers that my husband’s important to me. That kind of thoughtfulness from someone with a learning disability — it just floors me. Not because I don’t think he’s capable, but because he notices and remembers things that most people wouldn’t. It’s special. It really is.
I’ve learnt loads through volunteering — some of it small, like how to use the AV system at church (honestly, you’d think it was a spaceship the way some of those buttons work), and some of it massive, like how to trust myself again.
One of the biggest things that’s changed is my confidence. Especially around driving. I used to be terrified. Got caught speeding in 2017 and that was it — I felt like the worst person alive. I stopped driving altogether, convinced I was going to hurt someone or get arrested or both. Then I lost my licence due to my mental health. To get it back, I had to be stable for three months and go through all the proper channels. Therapy, reviews, everything.
But I did it. And now? I drive all over the place. M25, A404, M1, magic roundabouts, the lot. I never thought I’d say this, but I actually enjoy it. I wouldn’t have got there if it wasn’t for my volunteering. I had to drive to various place. My husband can’t always take me — not during the day when he is working or in London. So it had to be me. I had to rely on myself. And weirdly, that helped. I had no choice but to face it. Now I’ve got my confidence back — even more than before I got ill.
I’ve learned a lot about how I work, too. I’ve realised that on a good day, I can do loads. But I also need to recognise my limits. Volunteering’s taught me that. It’s also taught me how to manage people, how to de-escalate a situation, and how my behaviour affects other people’s behaviour. That’s powerful stuff.
And it’s helped with my recovery. Massively. It gave me structure when I had none. Purpose when I felt pointless. Focus when I was falling apart. It helped me feel like me again. Not just a diagnosis. Not just someone “in crisis.” Me.
I think the most important thing volunteering’s given me is proof — proof that I’m capable. That I can commit. That I’m reliable. That I’ve got something to offer. It’s changed how I see myself. And it’s reminded me that I can still grow. Still learn. Still help.
And yes, I absolutely see myself volunteering in the future. Even if I get a job, I’d want to keep doing something — even if it’s just little things like helping at church or checking in on a neighbour. That still counts. You don’t have to wear a badge or run a workshop to make a difference. Sometimes it’s just about turning up. Having a cup of tea. Being there.
If someone was thinking about volunteering, I’d say this: find something you enjoy. Honestly. That’s the key. If you hate spreadsheets, don’t volunteer to do data entry. If you love singing, join a choir project. If you like colouring in — do that. I once volunteered somewhere where all I did was colour with people. It was great.
Use your hobbies. Use your passions. For me, it was acting. I’ve got a degree in it. So now I help run drama sessions for adults with learning disabilities. It doesn’t feel like work — it feels like fun. And at the same time, it’s helping people. That’s the sweet spot.
Volunteering doesn’t have to be some massive, life-changing thing. It just has to be something you care about. And you don’t have to be “well” or “sorted” or “perfect” to do it. You just have to show up. Try. Be honest. That’s enough.
It’s been a weird, messy, brilliant journey. And I’m not done yet.
