Let’s read Catherina’s story – When volunteering challenges your ego.
I didn’t want to go.
I had signed up, I had committed, and yet, that morning, everything in me resisted. It was just taking down Christmas decorations—nothing “meaningful” in my eyes. A part of me, the part that always seeks grandeur, impact, and purpose, whispered, “This is beneath you. What are you really accomplishing here?”
And then came the shame.
Because I knew, deep down, that this thinking is what prevents people from showing up. Not just for volunteer work, but for life. It’s the same voice that tells you that if you’re not doing something extraordinary, it’s not worth doing at all. And that voice, I’ve realized, is a liar.
So I showed up.
At Cordaan de Boeg, a home for elderly people with mental illnesses, I spent three hours carefully unwinding tinsel, untangling lights, and packing up the remnants of a holiday that, for the residents, was already fading into memory. I worked alongside a social worker, Remy, who knew every resident by name, every story, every small habit. And as we moved through the space, I watched how the atmosphere shifted—not because we were removing decorations, but because we were present.
I started to notice things I hadn’t expected. The way one resident kept stroking a piece of tinsel long after it had been taken down, as if the texture grounded them. How another resident, initially withdrawn, slowly started chatting when I asked about their favorite holiday traditions. I wasn’t just taking down decorations—I was making space for human connection in the smallest, quietest ways.
And that was the real lesson.
Volunteering isn’t about grand acts of service. It’s about consistency, presence, and humility—things I’ve often struggled with. I realized that my resistance, my desire to do something “bigger,” was actually a fear of being insignificant. But what if significance isn’t something you strive for? What if it’s something that happens simply because you choose to show up?
That day, I exchanged numbers with Remy and discussed ways I could contribute more creatively—perhaps through painting, trauma-sensitive yoga, or music for the residents. I left feeling something I hadn’t expected: lighter. Because when you stop waiting for the “perfect” opportunity to contribute and just start doing, you realise that every act of service—even the smallest—is part of something greater.
And maybe, that’s enough…
