So, yeah… I guess the best place to start is why I set this whole thing up. And honestly, it goes right back to when I was a teenager. I was diagnosed with severe mental-health conditions around 12 or 13, and things went downhill pretty fast after that. I left home at 15, ended up homeless, and I’ve been in places a 15-year-old girl should absolutely not have been in. Hostels, shared accommodation, chaotic environments… even living in a tent for a while. I fell pregnant when I was 16, still in that tent, and the day I turned 16 I literally went to the council like, “Right, I’m old enough now — you need to put me somewhere.”
What followed was years of bouncing in and out of temporary accommodation. Milton Keynes, London, hostels, mother-and-baby units… it was horrific. And it made my mental health even worse. When I finally got housed at 17, I was so proud. My place was absolutely pristine, spotless. But then the hoarding started. Not because I wanted stuff — because I was terrified. Terrified that if I needed something tomorrow, I wouldn’t be able to afford to replace it. So I kept everything. Bags, furniture, random stuff. My daughter’s cot stayed in my bathroom for ten years… even though I had zero intention of having another baby. It was all the “what ifs.”
And every time my mental health dipped, I’d end up back in therapy. Talking, walking, art therapy… everything. And I just reached this point where I thought, I don’t want another chat. I don’t want to talk about my feelings. I want someone to come in and say: what’s going on today? Need help with the washing up? Don’t understand this letter? Let’s just do it.
And because I couldn’t find that anywhere, I thought — right, that’s it. I’m doing it myself.
That’s how Mental Health Cleaning was born — or at least the idea behind it. I never planned to start a volunteer group, but once I realised how many people needed practical help, not just conversations, it became the obvious thing to do.
I started videoing myself cleaning, just small bits at home, and putting them on Facebook. And then people I knew — people I thought were totally fine — started messaging me privately. I had no idea they were struggling. You see this version of their life online and you think everything’s perfect, and it’s not. That was the moment I thought, There must be so many more people out there who need this kind of help. Not therapy. Not worksheets. Just help.
So I put up a Facebook post with my idea — literally no plan, just, “Here’s what I’ve been through, this is what I want to do, does anyone want to help?” And that’s how I met Vickie. Her friend replied, and then eventually Vickie came along, and suddenly it all started taking shape.
The funny thing is, I came out of school with no GCSEs. Nothing. I had to do them in my twenties just to work in schools. And I’d never volunteered before. I used charities — loads of them — but I had zero clue what actually went on behind the scenes. So everything I know now? I learnt it as it happened. One thing at a time. “Okay, what’s this? Oh, I need to know that? Right, Google. Ask someone. Learn it.”
It’s not technically a business, but honestly, I’ve had to learn so much that is business-related — structures, processes, safeguarding, insurance, all of it. I’ve had an incredible amount of help though. Vickie has been unbelievable. My sister worked in charity fundraising so she’s given me loads of advice. My dad runs a business, so I asked him a lot. And Community Action MK… they’ve been amazing. I didn’t even know what we were — charity, CIC, social group — they explained everything. They’ve answered so many questions.
My motivation at the start was obviously personal — my journey, my mental health, everything I’d survived. But it wasn’t about helping myself. Not really. It was about wanting to stop someone else going through what I went through. I don’t make a penny from this. I won’t take money from the people we help — ever. If they offer, I say no. For me, it’s about helping them because they need it, not because I want something back.
We’ve had some incredible moments. Some really emotional ones too — we’ve all cried more than once. One that really stands out is the little girl’s room we redid. Her mum had passed away and her dad suddenly became a single parent overnight. Her room was broken, damaged, nothing usable. We reached out to the community and they just… showed up. New bed, drawers, clothes, decorations, everything. Seeing her face afterwards — I’ll never forget that.
We’ve had businesses join us, college students, whole groups of people. Two days with the Milton Keynes College students was one of my absolute favourites — they were learning painting and decorating, and instead of practising on fake walls, they got to work on a real home, for a real family who needed it. They also learnt loads about mental health and why people end up in those situations. It was just… incredible.
People always tell me, “You need to expand, you need to get bigger,” and yeah, in theory, that sounds amazing. But managing volunteers is hard, especially when they’re not paid and you’re relying on goodwill. At one point we had ten volunteers and it was chaos. I’m not naturally a manager — Vickie is, and thank God — but I struggle with that side of things. Before we grow, I’d need volunteers who can help coordinate the volunteers, because I already do so much behind the scenes. Spreadsheets alone are breaking me at the moment — honestly, if someone wants to volunteer just to do spreadsheets, I’d kiss their feet.
People see a two-minute video on Facebook and think it’s simple. It’s not. It’s a seven-hour day of physical work — proper, exhausting graft. Breaks happen, but still. It’s a lot. And we keep doing it because it’s so rewarding.
If someone asked me whether they should volunteer, I’d say absolutely, do it. I used to be one of those people who’d scroll past posts, or think “someone else will share that.” But now I get it — how needed volunteers are, how much difference they make, how many people are struggling in ways we don’t see. There are so many causes in Milton Keynes alone, amazing causes, and giving even an hour or two can change someone’s life.
It’s worth it. One hundred percent. Every time.
