Peer Aid

Peer aid is the practical middle ground between formal services and doing everything alone.

It can look like a support group, a WhatsApp chat, an online body-doubling session, a local meet-up, a neighbour checking in, a friend picking up milk, a shared cooking routine, a tool-swap arrangement, or a small group of people helping each other stay functional.

It does not have to be dramatic.
It does not have to be official.
It does not need a committee before it becomes useful.

Sometimes peer aid is simply:

One person has a kitchen.
One person loves cooking.
One person can lift heavy pans.
One person hates cooking but enjoys eating.
One person has the better screwdriver.
One person knows how to grow potatoes.
One person is passing Lidl anyway.

Capability appears when the right people share the right load.

In 🏗️Distributed Capability Architecture, not every support has to come from a professional service.

Some support comes from people who know you.
Some comes from people who share your situation.
Some comes from people nearby.
Some comes from people with the same interest, access need, diagnosis, identity, hobby, struggle, or practical problem.

Formal services often work through referrals, thresholds, assessments, waiting lists, and opening hours.

Peer aid often works through relationship.

That does not make it less valuable. It makes it a different kind of infrastructure.

Peer aid can reduce friction before a crisis forms. It can fill small gaps that are too ordinary for services to notice but too heavy for one person to keep carrying alone.

Peer aid might include:

Body doubling for paperwork, cleaning, admin, or phone calls.
Friends grabbing milk, eggs, toilet roll, or one missing ingredient while already passing a shop.
Neighbours helping move heavy items, compost, tools, or pans.
Shared cooking, batch cooking, or meal-kit splitting.
DIY help in exchange for tool use, teaching, or practical knowledge.
Peer-led groups such as ADHD Babes and similar communities.
Online spaces where people can swap strategies without having to translate the whole backstory.
Meet-ups, hobby groups, repair cafés, gardening groups, faith groups, queer spaces, access groups, and informal local networks.

Peer aid is not just emotional support.

It can provide rhythm, access, shared language, practical help, accountability, identity repair, and reduced isolation.

Last summer, I spent around three months cooking meals at my neighbour’s house because my own home did not have the kitchen infrastructure I needed.

We split the cost of Gousto boxes. She helped with the parts I physically struggled with, such as prepping potatoes, filling pans with water, and moving heavy things.

Then I got to do the part I love: cooking.

I danced around her kitchen while the meal came together. She got a break from cooking, which she does not enjoy. I got access to a usable kitchen, physical support with the heavy or awkward tasks, and the joy of feeding people.

The meal was timed for when her son came home from school, then we all ate together.

That arrangement worked because everyone got something real from it.

She got dinner, company, and a break.
Her son got a proper meal after school.
I got access, support, movement, purpose, and the chance to use a strength instead of being defined only by what I could not do.

A kitchen became a community node.

Peer aid also happens through everyday neighbour relationships.

One neighbour often pops over when he is doing DIY or gardening to ask whether I have a better tool. While he is here, he usually helps move something I cannot safely move alone. That saves me from turning every small task into an admin project.

He checks in when he sees me in the front garden. His kids have learned about growing food, nature, insects, tools, and practical problem-solving by being around the garden.

He gets tool access, advice, and practical knowledge.
I get occasional physical help.
The kids get informal learning.
The garden becomes a teaching space.
The relationship becomes infrastructure.

Some of the most useful help is tiny.

Friends sometimes call on their way over and ask whether I need anything from Tesco Express or Lidl. For them, it might add ten or fifteen minutes.

For me, it can save an entire expedition.

Getting one forgotten item can mean attaching mobility equipment, dressing for the weather, travelling to the shop, navigating displays, lifting items into a backpack, travelling home, detaching equipment, and putting everything away.

A friend grabbing milk, eggs, toilet roll, or one missing ingredient while already passing the shop is not a small thing.

It is friction reduction.

Peer aid works best when the ask is specific, bounded, and easy to say yes or no to.

Instead of saying, “Can you help me more?”

Try:

“If you are passing Lidl, could you grab milk and eggs? I’ll transfer the money.”

“Could you fill this pan with water before you sit down? I can cook once it’s on the hob.”

“Can you lift this bag of compost to the back garden? I can show you which tool will make your fence job easier.”

“Want to split a meal kit this week? You help with the heavy bits, I’ll cook.”

“Can we do a 45-minute paperwork body double on video? No advice needed, just parallel working.”

Good peer aid asks are:

Specific.
Bounded.
Clear about time.
Clear about money.
Clear about the task.
Allowed to be refused.
Not built on guilt.

Peer aid is strongest when it has boundaries.

Without boundaries, it can become resentment, dependency, burnout, confusion, or accidental unpaid care.

Useful boundaries include:

No one person becomes the whole support system.
Help is allowed to be occasional.
People are allowed to say no.
Money is clear.
Time is clear.
Children are not turned into carers.
Personal care is not assumed.
Risky tasks need proper equipment, training, or services.
Peer aid does not replace urgent professional support.

Good peer aid should make life lighter, not create another hidden debt.

Peer aid is powerful, but it should not be used to excuse service failure.

A neighbour helping with pans is lovely.
A neighbour having to compensate for a missing kitchen is not acceptable as a long-term housing solution.

A friend picking up milk is useful.
A friend becoming the only reason someone can eat is not a safe care plan.

A peer group offering body doubling is brilliant.
A peer group replacing diagnosis, treatment, adaptations, advocacy, or safeguarding is not.

Peer aid fills gaps.

It should not become the plaster over structural neglect.

A peer aid node is useful if it does at least one of these:

Reduces friction.
Shares load.
Increases access.
Improves safety.
Creates rhythm.
Supports identity.
Offers practical help.
Makes a task possible.
Reduces isolation.
Allows skills to move both ways.
Prevents a small problem becoming a crisis.

Peer aid is distributed capability through relationship.

Sometimes the node is a neighbour.
Sometimes the node is a WhatsApp group.
Sometimes the node is an online body-double.
Sometimes the node is a shared meal kit.
Sometimes the node is someone asking, “Do you need anything from Lidl?”

That counts.

That is architecture.