Dougie Stringer grew up in care. Now, he’s working to change how young people leave it. Here, he talks role models, emotional insight, and why real support doesn’t always look like therapy – or come from where you’d expect.
A care leaver, social worker and social entrepreneur, Dougie has turned lessons from his own childhood into Skills2Thrive – a bite-sized, mobile-friendly toolkit built around short videos to help care leavers build life skills, emotional insight and confidence.
“There’s this Japanese concept ‘ikigai’,” he says. “It’s where what you love, what you’re good at, what the world needs, and what you can be paid for all meet. What I do now? It ticks every box.”
Skills2Thrive was his answer to the challenges he saw young people facing as they left the care system – grounded in lived experience, both his own and that of others.
Starting sooner, supporting smarter
Dougie is that rare thing in social care: someone who’s lived in the system and then chosen to work in it. As a care leaver, former residential care worker, personal advisor and social worker in Staying Close teams, he knows first-hand what young people are up against as they near 18 – and what professionals are up against too.
“More often,” he reflects, “what I was, is their firefighter.”
Stepping in during crises, with no time to build anything preventative. “I spoke to a PA in Manchester recently – 53 young people on their caseload. How can anyone do meaningful prep work when all they’re doing is crisis management?”
He’s clear: “Most young people -in and out of care - don’t leave school with the life skills they need. But those outside the system often have parents to fall back on.”
The ones who do better? “They’re usually in Staying Put arrangements with supportive carers. By 21, they’ve had time to mature. But 18? Most aren’t emotionally ready.”
The outcomes are predictable: housing instability, mental health struggles, involvement with the criminal justice system.
“People ask why,” he says. “I can tell you exactly why. We’re not preparing them.”
That belief – that we can and must do more – is what led Dougie to create Skills2Thrive.
Through lived experience
Dougie entered care at ten, after what he describes as a chaotic childhood. His mum, who had bipolar disorder, died by suicide when he was young. His dad, already struggling with alcohol and depression, couldn’t cope.
“There were a lot of issues at home – mental health, neglect, addiction. I used to dread going back to my dad’s after weekends at my nan’s.”
Things changed when he was placed with long-term foster carers Maureen and Tex.
“Before care, I had migraines so bad I’d throw up. After I moved in, they stopped. Overnight. That says it all, really.”
What they offered wasn’t therapy. It was safety.
“We were treated like family. We never felt like we didn’t belong. All that chaos – the unpredictability, the drinking, the not knowing if someone could look after you – it stopped.”
They didn’t give him pity. They gave him space.
“What kids in care hate is people being overly sympathetic. I knew they cared – but they didn’t treat us like we were broken. My foster carers were probably the difference between me going off the rails and ending up where I am today.”
Still, despite the stability, Dougie didn’t talk about being in care.
“All those years at school and college, I never spoke about it. You want to be ‘normal’, don’t you? You don’t want to be branded as a care kid.”
He shut it down – like many young people with care experience – and carried it forward.
“You’re not ready to unpack it. You’re still a teenager. Your brain’s not developed enough to deal with it. But it’s there.”
The tragedy, he says, is that by the time most care leavers are ready to reflect and make sense of their experience, the support has already gone.
“A lot of people – not just care leavers – are carrying trauma, neglect, ACEs. But unless you understand what you’re dealing with, you can’t do anything about it.”
Skills2Thrive is designed to give young people that understanding – early.
“It’s not just about telling young people what to do. It’s helping them understand what’s shaped them, and why they might be struggling.”
For Dougie, healing didn’t begin with therapy – it began with work.
Listening to stories from young people and families that echoed his own, things started to surface. Slowly.
“Therapy needs to be reimagined”
“You meet families like your own. You hear stories that hit close. Things bubble up. Slowly. You realise what you’ve been carrying.”
But when he finally sought help, the system wasn’t built for him.
“You might see a GP, get referred for therapy – wait six months, see someone who doesn’t feel right, and that’s it. It puts people off therapy completely.”
“But there are so many forms of support. It’s not one-size-fits-all.”
That’s why he believes we need to rethink what support really looks like – especially for young men.
“Therapy needs to be reimagined. We’ve got to get more creative. Sitting face-to-face with a therapist just doesn’t work for everyone.”
Alongside the app, Dougie also mentors young people with care experience through sport – something he sees not as a side project, but a serious tool.
“It’s always been my constant. When life felt chaotic, sport gave me something solid to lean on. That’s what a lot of young people need – something reliable.”
He’s seen how it can shift everything.
“When people have been through trauma, grief or addiction, often they need something to lean on. Sport gives you that. Then later, it becomes their outlet, their coping mechanism – instead of drinking or drugs.”
But for Dougie, sport isn’t just about fitness.
“It’s where young people find confidence, direction, belonging – all the things so many in care are missing.” It’s also where trust grows.
“You’re not going to get someone to open up by sitting them down and saying, ‘Tell me about your trauma.’ But stick a pair of boxing gloves on, go for a walk, play a match – that’s when things start to come out. The respect builds first, and then the honesty follows.” He’s seen it first-hand.
“We were walking out of the gym one day and a lad told me he’d been close to taking his own life a few weeks earlier. He’d started channeling everything he was going through into the sport – and in that moment, after training, he just opened up.”
“It’s that space,” says Dougie. “You’re not face-to-face. There’s no pressure. You’ve got respect, a bit of calm – and sometimes, that’s all someone needs to say what they’re carrying.”
Still, this kind of support is often overlooked.
“I’ve worked in local authorities where I’ve mentioned sport and it’s like, ‘Yeah, yeah, you go and do your sport.’ It’s not recognised as essential – but it is. I think we’ve got a duty to encourage young people into it.”
Because these spaces don’t disappear at 18.
“A gym, a team, a club – they don’t disappear when you turn 18. They stay. That can be the constant. The support that outlasts the care system.”
Role models, not rescuers
Sport, Dougie says, doesn’t just offer connection – it offers role models. And for many young people he works with, that’s what’s been missing.
“Sometimes, you just need that one person. Someone who gets it. Who shows you it’s possible.”
That’s part of why he created Skills2Thrive – a digital version of that one person, for those who might not have someone around.
“If you can see it, you can believe it. If you see someone who’s walked a similar path, you’re more likely to listen.”
But role models don’t always have to come from care. His own was Tex – his foster dad.
“Tex had been in the army. He boxed. I could relate to him. Maureen was amazing – she was my safety. But Tex? Tex was my inspiration.”
That distinction matters – especially for young people who’ve never had a consistent adult to look up to. And it doesn’t have to be the foster carer.
In fact, Dougie says, it often won’t be.
“If you’re a 15-year-old into gaming or music and your carer isn’t – they can’t be that role model. But they can open the door. Maybe to a gaming mentor, a music teacher. You open doors – nine might not fit, but the tenth could change a life.”
Foster carers don’t need all the answers, he says – just the willingness to help young people find their thing.
“Whether it’s boxing, football, hiking, graffiti, horse riding, gaming – great. The point is, those communities don’t vanish at 18. They can stay with you.”
Young people, he says, will often retreat to their comfort zone – especially if they’ve been hurt.
“That’s human. But we’ve got a duty as carers, as professionals – to introduce new things. To open doors. To show them what’s out there. That’s not just important. It’s essential.”
Fuel for change
That belief – in small interventions, in consistent presence, in the possibility of change – runs through everything Dougie does.
It’s the thread that connects his childhood, his career, and the app he’s now built.
“So many care-experienced people I know are flipping the script. Turning pain into purpose. Because if you let it define you, where does that take you? But if you use it as fuel – and help others in the process – that helps them, and it helps you.”
“It’s hard work,” he admits. “But you need your ‘why’. For me, that’s shifting the needle. I’ve seen too many young people anxious at 17, struggling at 18. But I’ve also seen what happens when you give the right support at the right time.”
And that – he says – is where the change lies.
Dougie’s ikigai truly lives: not in theory, but in action. Not in pity, but in purpose. Not in firefighting – but in building something better.
