From Vision to Vital Funding: Sustaining a Charity

When we became a registered charity, I was under the misconception that funding would fall into our lap. I thought the government would give us funding and all we had to do was apply. I had no idea how hard it was going to be. We had originally started charging for tickets, but it became clear that people needed this information, and I was passionate that if we were to get this out there, it had to be accessible to all. I soon realised we had many more changes to make. To apply, we needed a bank account in two or more names. We couldn’t have any board members that were related. We had to present accounts. We had more work to do.

During lockdown, we had been given £2,000 by the CORRA FOUNDATION; all charities were given this to help support them at that time. This was exciting—we could finally cover our costs, which were minimal as workshops were all online. Setting up a bank account wasn’t easy, as lockdown was only just lifting, and getting an appointment was impossible. But finally, we managed to get one set up. Steven and Julie stepped off the board so that we didn’t have any Trustees who were married. We applied to a few different small grants. It seemed that most funders liked to see three years of accounts. But as a start-up, we didn’t have this. It also seemed that we needed to have funding to get funding. It felt impossible.

Being dyslexic made this even harder—rewriting and correcting everything I wrote, over and over. Each application asked for something new that I had never heard of. Words like ‘evidence of impact’ and ‘outcomes’. I didn’t know what these meant. They wanted to see policies that we didn’t have in place yet. On I went, applying and learning all the way. I soon realised I was wasting my time with the larger grants. Emails kept coming back, telling us we had been unsuccessful. It was soul-destroying. After each rejection, I would have to give myself time to lick my wounds, threaten to give up, and ultimately always recover and come back fighting, ready to try again.

We had more success with smaller grants—local community grants. £1,000 here and £2,000 there, offering six workshops in one area and four in another. Some councils, I found, were more open to the Trauma-Informed Approach than others. We secured funds in Stirling, West Dunbartonshire, North Lanarkshire, and East Dunbartonshire. A law firm in Glasgow awarded us £2,000 to deliver workshops in Glasgow. Things were starting to happen.

What I didn’t realise was that with funding comes responsibility. Each successful bid brought its own stress. It’s one thing to say we can deliver six workshops in an area; it’s another to find the audience to deliver to. Again, some areas are more open to this. I sent emails and messages to any charity and organisation in these areas, telling them of our work. But they had never heard of us. They were sceptical. It took time to find organisations that would use our service. Homestart was brilliant. They would book a workshop for their staff and volunteers first, and then after attending, they tended to get excited and book more for their service users. Women’s Aid did the same. We reached out to local councils and social workers, but they were resistant. Schools were too. They would ask what certification we had, and we didn’t have any that was recognised. I was certified in Bryan Post’s stress model, but the workshops were based around my lived experience, so they weren’t interested. Councils seemed afraid of us. What we were saying was in direct contradiction to the Triple P and Incredible Years programmes that they had been offering parents. In one area, four schools booked us for their staff—we were so excited—but the council shut it down. Their party line was that they didn’t want to confuse parents by offering contradictory information.

We kept on. Applying, emailing, messaging. Sharing posts on social media. I even got myself banned from a few Facebook groups for this. Slowly, more funds came in. Slightly bigger funds. We managed to get enough funding to cover the cost of having the workshops CPD certified. This made a huge difference. Suddenly, school staff and social workers were taking us seriously. We were gathering feedback all the time, and with the help of our wonderful coach Adrian Murtaugh of Just Smart Thinking, who offered his time once a week to help me, things began to take shape. We had policies and evidence. I was getting more successful at writing applications, but they took me so long—it was a full-time job. I learned that you had to just keep applying and applying. Most were rejected, but the odd one would be successful. When they were, it was like winning the lottery.

Soon, we had some new Trustees. Sharon, who was at one of our original workshops and had offered to help, was roped in. She had experience in charities and applying for funding. She was amazing, helping me and going over the applications with me. Barbara, a lawyer; Kevin, a supporter of our work through Adoption UK; Lindsay, a nursery teacher from that first workshop; Teshhany, one of our parents; Geraldine, a foster carer I had previously worked with; and Gillian, the amazing social worker who had originally got me interested in ACEs, even joined. Having a wealth of experience on the board made a big difference. But sadly, with these new Trustees came the retirement of some of our original members. Pamela stepped down first. She felt her role in helping me get things off the ground had passed, and now it was time for new blood to take over. I didn’t want her to leave—I was so grateful to have her be part of this; I always will be—but she insisted. With a heavy heart, I accepted her resignation. Stuart and Barbara, our Chairperson and Treasurer, also stepped down. This was a new era. I am forever grateful to them all.

The more funds came in, the more we could grow. We decided to use some of our funds to bring in a part-time fundraiser. This was a huge decision for us. It could go either way. There was a lot of fear that it could be a waste of funds. There was no guarantee. But we had to try, and Katie was brought into the TIP team. When I first spoke to Katie, she motivated me massively, and I could see a way forward. The vision became so clear. Having someone else take over the funding allowed me to focus on delivering more workshops and growing the organisation. It didn’t take long before small funds started to come in. Then bigger ones. Within a year, she had secured some three-year funds and the full year’s required income. TIP could now offer the workshops across Scotland fully funded. We were able to bring in a trauma coach to support attendees at the large monthly online events and a part-time admin to ease my workload.

People were starting to notice us and contact me for advice on how we had done it, which prompted me to start this blog. Of course, my fear sets in when I start to share this information—the fear of losing our funding to other organisations, the fear of scarcity. There is an instinct to keep it all for myself. I have to work hard not to be controlled by that fear and instead choose to come from a mindset of abundance, in the hope that what I share with others will come back full circle.