I’ve recently written to the NDIA and to my local representatives about the contradictions in how Specialist Disability Accommodation (SDA) and Supported Independent Living (SIL) are funded. I want to share that letter here too, because these issues are not just mine — they affect many of us who are trying to live ordinary lives with dignity under the NDIS.
The NDIS says I should have “choice and control.” Right now, I don’t.
When I moved into Specialist Disability Accommodation (SDA), both the housing provider and the Supported Independent Living (SIL) provider told me the same thing: “Think of SIL as insurance or backup, not your main care.” That made sense to me at the time. But here’s the problem: NDIA funding now treats SIL as though it should be my daily support.
If I relied only on SIL, I would be left uncovered.
SIL workers in my unit can’t leave the premises to take me to the doctor or for tests. They’re rostered to support several residents at once. I don’t get a choice in who turns up. And scheduling support in advance is discouraged. My life doesn’t fit neatly into a roster — I need help at certain times so I can actually make my professional and medical commitments. That isn’t a luxury. It’s just life.
So I’ve had to arrange support outside SIL. But that’s where the system gets even messier. Individual support workers are bound by the SCHADS Award: two-hour minimums. My needs are often short but regular — a doctor’s appointment, a task that takes an hour. Providers don’t like ad hoc work, so unless you have big blocks of hours, you can get low-quality staff and no reliability. For right now, I’m lucky, the agency I’ve got is okay. But that isn’t always the case and it hasn’t always been the case.
Meanwhile, health services tell me, “Use your NDIS funding for follow-up tests or after hospital.” But the extra funding I have isn’t enough to engage quality staff in that way. I don’t need a lot. What I need is support that’s regular and reliable, so my life — my work, my health, my relationships — doesn’t have to bend around the system.
This is what I mean when I say there’s a systemic gap.
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NDIA assumes SIL covers daily supports.
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SIL providers say they can’t.
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Health says “use NDIS.”
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In practice, there’s no workable mechanism to make sure I’m supported safely and consistently.
And there’s something else. I can feel a cultural shift creeping in — where participants who try to use the scheme responsibly are punished because of others’ misuse. Where providers treat us less as people and more as commodities, units of funding on a roster. That’s not dignity. That’s not independence. And it’s not choice and control.
It used to be that you were expected — and encouraged — to be as independent as possible. The less help you needed, the better. Now, if what you need is regular, reliable touches of support, it can feel like you are punished for that.
I don’t raise this just for myself. I raise it because these contradictions are baked into the system. They’re structural. And they stop people like me from living the life the NDIS promises.
I’ve written to the NDIA, the Minister for the NDIS, and my local MP. I’ve asked three simple questions:
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If SIL is compulsory in SDA, why isn’t there a clear and sufficient mechanism for daily support funding outside SIL?
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How can “choice and control” be real when SDA tenants have no meaningful flexibility in who they use for what on a given day?
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What systemic solution is there for participants whose needs are short and frequent, rather than large block-booked hours?
I don’t expect miracles. But I do expect honesty, and I hope for change. And if there’s an opportunity to be part of building a better way forward, I want to help.
Because the NDIS was never meant to be about rosters and funding units. It was meant to be about people.