Volunteering seems to have a mixed reputation amongst students. For the strapped for cash, it perhaps seems pointless to spend large amounts of free time doing something for nothing. For others, volunteering is a chance to meet new friends, experience new things and ultimately make a difference.   For me, volunteering was initially a way of acquiring material for my CV, and to alleviate the horrible feelings of guilt associated with lazing around drinking tea whilst many of my friends were off feeding the homeless. I didn't really care too much what I did, who I worked with or for what cause, and I certainly didn't expect to gain anything from the experience in terms of psychological or emotional benefits.

With these not-wholly-altruistic motivations, I dabbled briefly in volunteering during my first year. One Saturday, I was lured onto a RAG raid by the prospect of a free day out in Newcastle with some friends. I was expecting to be bored stupid for the few hours it took to do the collection. Yet to my surprise, as I stood around Newcastle city centre in mid-winter smiling at strangers and waving a bucket, I found I was actually enjoying myself. I felt a little warm and fuzzy inside as I found myself the bearer of an increasingly heavy collection tin.  This was so unexpected and good, that I decided to have a proper go at volunteering to see if the feel-good factor was a one off or part of the general voluntary experience. As I gave up more of my time, I discovered that feeling good about using some spare hours to do something worthwhile and constructive is an inherent part of volunteering. Personally, volunteering was especially uplifting because it gave me a sense of freedom and control. During my first year I realised I didn't really know why I'd decided to come to university or study my course. I think largely it just seemed to be expected of me and I went along with it because I wasn't entirely sure what else I could do. This meant I was prone to rages about the pointlessness of my course and my unsuitability for it, combined with a general feeling of being lost and bewildered by the direction in which my life was taking me.  Volunteering was different, because it was something that I chose for myself. It anchored me at a time when I felt swept away by university life and distracted by the seemingly grand achievements of my friends. This was something I could do of my own volition that gave me a sense of freedom and control which I felt I was lacking.

The shift in my perceptions of volunteering combined with a recognition of the possible benefits it could have for my emotional well being in the often confusing university environment, meant I plunged head first into volunteering at the end of my second year. I began choosing projects which had particular appeal and I thought I could do well and gave time to charities whose aims and causes I sympathised with. At the encouragement of my housemate, who patiently listens to my insecure whining, I became a Millennium Volunteer and signed up for a long term project facilitating a group of sixth form students as they plan and implement the renovation of a youth room. I was initially daunted by the scale of the project due to my lack of experience but now it is in its final stages and it's been an amazing ego boost to realise that I have in fact been up to the challenge.

What's more, the project, and volunteering in general, has done wonders for my confidence in social situations. Whilst I am not shy, I am far from comfortable taking centre stage in group situations and am not too good at meeting new people. Yet I found myself having to sell this project to 16 and 17 year olds – a rather intimidating audience – and having to make my opinions and ideas heard in group meetings with the other university students. It was scary at first, but I did it and became much more self-assured. It's also been a fantastic experience to work with such a great group of people, both the sixth formers and the university volunteers. Saturdays spent painting in the youth room are incredibly relaxing after a week of university work and the kids try to have as much fun with it as they can, bringing in music and muffins for everyone. 

It's not always been smooth going though. At times it has been downright stressful, trying to juggle final exams and essays alongside youth room dramas about mink paint, random murals and mood boards which disappear 5 minutes before highly important funding meetings. RAG raids have also had their notable down moments—the nice lady who so kindly tried to put a dirty tissue in my tin one day springs to mind. And not to mention the reluctance to drag myself into the British Heart Foundation shop for hours of sorting through smelly clothes when it's a glorious sunny day outside. But I can honestly say that – cheesy as it may sound - it has all been worth it for me and my mental health. I will be leaving university far more confident in my own abilities and secure with myself than I would have done without the experience of student volunteering.