Nicole’s journey from homelessness and mental health struggles to finding purpose and creating precious memories that last a lifetime with Venture Scotland.
My life was chaos. There’s no other way to describe it. I was trapped in a vicious cycle – homelessness, hospitalisation, illness, brief moments of hope through paid employment, then crashing back to square one. Over and over again. For years, I couldn’t see a way out.
At 22, I was working at Standard Life – a good job, well paid, with what seemed like a bright future ahead. But then everything unravelled, and by 25, I was homeless. To this day, we don’t know if it was down to the accumulated trauma, cannabis abuse, or the anti-malarial I took for a holiday, it’s known to have this effect on some people…it could have been a mixture of all of that – but it triggered psychosis.
Over the years, I have been diagnosed first with an atypical manic episode, then schizophrenia, finally Bipolar Type 1 in 2001; that means I experience hallucinations and paranoia, and then in 2023, I was also diagnosed with CPTSD. I remember that the first psychiatric hospital was horrific. Absolutely horrific. I was dragged and pinned down and injected…I was pleased to hear that it closed down.
I had been in and out of the hospital and in and out of homelessness shelters where people didn’t notice, but I wasn’t eating. I hadn’t been able to communicate properly, so I wasn’t on any benefits – I couldn’t buy food. It was such a hard time, and I was so deeply suicidal. I really, really did not want to be here. But then, thankfully, things started to change in 2000, because I got placed in a hostel called The Cyrenian Farm Homelessness Hostel, and it was just different. Supportive and caring with incredible volunteers who had backgrounds in psychology. They fed us, gave us purpose through farm chores and through them, I heard about Venture Scotland.
I’d had an active childhood. My parents used to take us hill walking, exploring the wilds, trying different sports, before things happened that unravelled my life in my early twenties. The Farm and Venture Scotland started this rekindling of my love for the outdoors, this reconnection with a part of myself I thought I’d lost.
I’ll never forget driving up through Glen Etive and seeing a stag silhouetted against the sky – I’d never seen anything so beautiful. There was this exercise where we became professors of different things – I was Professor Heather, learning about ecology and plant biology, then teaching the next person. Such a simple concept, but it made me feel intelligent, capable, and valued. There were team games, and I really remember a raft challenge in the loch! The whole bothy experience was incredible!
But it wasn’t just the outdoor activities. It was how I was treated. I mentioned my medication to one of the volunteers, and he responded so calmly about keeping it safe. No horror, no “oh my God, you’re on medication” reaction that I’d grown accustomed to from society. Just calm acceptance. That memory of being treated like a valuable human being – not just someone with a psychiatric condition who was homeless – made all the difference to me.
The communication skills training was huge for me, too. Growing up, there wasn’t much conversation in my family unless it was shouting. But at Venture Scotland, we learned to communicate calmly and inclusively. To be treated like an adult with respect, and to treat others that way, too – you weren’t made to feel like just a participant. You were valued.
The foundation that Venture Scotland gave me in the outdoors changed everything. I joined an Outward Bound course and eventually trained as an outdoor activities instructor. It was the best job I ever had, and I put that success down entirely to my experience with Venture Scotland. It boosted my confidence, gave me skills that I still use today in my volunteer work with Bipolar Scotland and Penumbra.
Whilst life hasn’t been a straight line upward since then, I’ve had more hospitalisations, periods of homelessness, lost my partner in 2022, and had cancer surgery last year. The vicious cycle has tried to claim me again multiple times. But here’s the thing – I have something powerful to counter the traumatic memories and flashbacks. I have precious memories from my time with Venture Scotland.
When I’m struggling, when the bipolar threatens to overwhelm me, I remember the sheep wandering into our bothy, the “traversing the chair” challenge, the dragonfly I found in perfect condition, or playing drums on the bottom of a bucket with Fiona as we walked back to the minibus. These aren’t just nice memories – they’re proof that good things can happen, that I’m capable of more than just surviving. That I was valued and respected and part of something meaningful.
I’m about to turn 50, dealing with perimenopause and all of its challenges, too. I do volunteer nutrition workshops, write poetry, and I’ve published books on mental health and nutrition. I may never work full-time again – surviving with bipolar Type 1 is actually quite a task in itself. But those memories from 2000 still shine bright. They’re grounding memories that help me when I need to bring myself back to something positive.
Everyone deserves to have those kinds of memories. To feel that hope and hold that proof that they matter. That’s the gift Venture Scotland gave me, and it’s lasted over 20 years.