Perfectly Imperfect

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Perfectly Imperfect is an Australia-wide NDIS registered neurodiversity affirming and gender affirming service providing counselling, advocacy, neurodiversity affirming behaviour support, inclusive education support and disabilitity advocacy

02/09/2026

Can we please stop calling things “inclusive” when disabled kids are being priced out of participating?

I’ve recently seen a disability-specific community camp that was previously free for attendees (due to funding from the community) now charging families $3,350 per child with the suggestion that families use their NDIS funding to pay for it, even recommending the line item to use.

And I genuinely have questions.

Because… from what funding?

We are watching NDIS plans being cut, squeezed and scrutinised. Families are already trying to stretch minimal plans across support workers, therapy, behaviour support, personal care and the everyday disability supports their children actually need.

Now we’re expecting them to somehow find another $3,350 for a three-day camp?

And here’s the part that concerns me even more.

The fee apparently includes “support, including overnight nursing support if needed.” So the obvious question was asked: Are participants going to be supported by paid disability support workers, or will volunteers, including teenage volunteers, still be providing much of the support?

No response.

And that distinction matters enormously when families are being asked to use thousands of dollars of individual NDIS funding.

This is absolutely not a criticism of volunteers. Teenage volunteers are incredible, and peer relationships and community connection are hugely valuable, and teaching the next generation to be genuinely inclusive, supportive and understanding of people with disabilities is, in my view, priceless.

But a teenage volunteer is not the same thing as a paid disability support worker.

And if you’re charging $3,350 and directing families towards NDIS funding, there should be complete transparency about what participants are actually paying for.

Who is providing the disability support? Are they paid? What are the ratios? What training and qualifications are required? How much of the $3,350 is accommodation, food, transport and activities, and how much is actually attributed to support?

We also know that an equivalent NDIS respite/STA rate is around $750 per day, while this works out at approximately $1,100 per day.

They’re not necessarily like-for-like services, so I’m not pretending that’s a perfect comparison. But that’s exactly why the costing needs to be transparent. Especially if significant portions of the program are being supported by volunteers.

And then we come back to the word inclusion. These programs talk about reducing isolation, improving mental health, building independence, increasing confidence and creating belonging. Those outcomes are incredibly important.

But you cannot claim to be reducing isolation while simultaneously creating a financial barrier that excludes the very people you’re supposedly trying to include.

An NDIS plan is not an endless bucket of money. It cannot become the automatic replacement funding source every time a community program that was previously free starts charging disabled participants.

Because here’s where we’re heading:
Programs lose funding.
Costs get shifted onto individual NDIS plans.
NDIS plans simultaneously get smaller.
Families are expected to make the maths work.

And the disabled child whose plan doesn’t have a spare $3,350?

They simply don’t get to participate. That isn’t inclusion. That’s exclusion with an NDIS line item attached to it.

And there is an important distinction here: an NGO exists to serve a community purpose, not to operate like a private company shifting costs onto individual participants. When charitable/community organisations start relying on individual NDIS packages to fund previously subsidised programs, we need to be asking where community responsibility ends and commercial service provision begins.

$37.8 BILLION.That is how much the latest NDIS reforms are projected to reduce NDIS expenditure by over four years.Not $...
31/08/2026

$37.8 BILLION.

That is how much the latest NDIS reforms are projected to reduce NDIS expenditure by over four years.

Not $37.8 million.

$37.8 BILLION.

And can we please stop calling something of this magnitude a little bit of “NDIS reform”?

Because while the Government talks about sustainability, integrity and making sure the Scheme is there for future generations, the Australian Human Rights Commission literally told them to HIT PAUSE.

Why?

Because they had serious concerns about what these changes could mean for the human rights of disabled Australians. Reduced access to supports.
Reduced choice and control. Less individualised decision-making.

And a movement away from the social and human-rights model of disability towards a system increasingly focused on assessing, categorising and quantifying impairment.

The proposed objective functional-capacity assessment changes alone are projected to reduce NDIS expenditure by $9.3 BILLION over four years.

Read that again.

Because you don’t save $9.3 billion simply by changing some paperwork. That money has to come from somewhere.

And ultimately, we need to be asking: Who isn’t going to receive the support they otherwise would have received? That’s the conversation I want us having.

Not whether the NDIS needs improvement. Of course it does. Not whether there is waste, fraud or inappropriate spending.bOf course those things should be addressed.

But there is an enormous difference between fixing a broken system and making disabled people the mechanism through which billions of dollars are saved.

And despite the Human Rights Commission’s warnings, the legislation passed. It received Royal Assent from the Governor-General on 20 August and became law.bTo be clear: the Governor-General did not step in to oppose the legislation. Royal Assent is the final constitutional step after a Bill passes Parliament.

But the Australian Human Rights Commission DID raise the alarm.

And I genuinely don’t think enough people understand how significant that is.

Australia’s national human rights institution looked at these reforms and effectively said: Hang on. We have serious concerns about what this could mean for the rights of people with disability.

And we proceeded anyway.

So please. Stop telling disabled people, families and the sector that we’re overreacting.
$37.8 billion isn’t tinkering around the edges of the NDIS.

It’s a fundamental reshaping of it. And disabled Australians deserve to know exactly where those billions are coming from.

Because “sustainability” should never become a polite word for people going without the support they need to live an ordinary life.

Having 24/7 support doesn’t automatically mean someone is well supported.You can have a house full of support workers an...
30/08/2026

Having 24/7 support doesn’t automatically mean someone is well supported.

You can have a house full of support workers and still have a person whose needs aren’t being met.

You can have 2:1 staffing and still spend every day responding to crisis.

You can have behaviour plans, risk assessments, allied health reports, rosters and handover notes coming out of your ears…and still have absolutely no consistency in what happens at 7pm on a Tuesday when everything starts going sideways.

That’s the bit we need to talk about more in high and complex needs support.

Because the amount of support matters. But the quality and coordination of that support matters just as much.

For people with significant disability and complex support needs, the tiny things are often the BIG things. Who knows that pacing means “I need space”? Who notices the sensory load has been building all afternoon? Who understands that saying “no” five more times isn’t going to magically create a “yes”? Who knows the difference between encouraging independence and pushing someone beyond capacity? Who knows what regulation actually looks like for THIS person, not what the support plan says it should look like?

And does the night shift know what happened on day shift? Does the support worker understand what the OT is recommending? Is the Behaviour Support Practitioner actually working alongside the team?

Does everyone understand the communication system? Or are we basically starting from scratch every time someone new walks through the door?

High and complex support needs good humans. But it also needs good systems.

Consistency. Training. Communication. Clinical oversight. Proper handovers. Shared understanding. And a team that knows the person, not just their diagnosis.

Because “staffed” and “supported” are not the same thing. And for people with high and complex needs, that difference can be enormous.

30/08/2026

I keep coming back to this in my Family Court work:
What if we’re getting the behaviour completely wrong?

A child refuses to go to the other parent’s house. They hold it together perfectly during an assessment, then absolutely fall apart afterwards.
They cope in one home but not the other. They become distressed around transitions. They need one parent to accommodate things that, from the outside, can look excessive.

And very quickly, adults start putting labels on it.

Manipulation.
Alienation.
Poor boundaries.
Overprotective parenting.
A child “getting their own way.”
A parent who needs to be firmer.

But what if that child is autistic? What if they have ADHD? PDA? Significant sensory differences? What if they’re masking their absolute arse off?

What if moving between two homes is placing demands on their nervous system that nobody has actually stopped to understand?

What if the parent being criticised for “giving in” is actually the person who has figured out how to keep that child regulated?

THIS is why I came back to Family Court work.

Because you cannot take a neurodivergent child, assess them through a neurotypical lens, and assume you’re seeing the whole picture. And the stakes are far too high to get it wrong.

That doesn’t mean neurodivergence explains everything. It doesn’t mean we ignore family violence, attachment, parenting capacity, coercive control or genuine concerns about a parent.

It means we have to be bloody good at understanding the difference.

I’m now undertaking Child Impact Assessments, Family Reports, Single Expert and specialist expert reports, and other complex parenting assessments through Perfectly Imperfect.

And I keep asking the same question: What are we missing when we look at this child’s behaviour without understanding their brain?

Because sometimes a child isn’t refusing. Sometimes they genuinely can’t. And that distinction can change everything.

Jess x

I need professionals to stop using “but they’re fine here” as evidence that a child is fine.They’re fine at school. They...
28/08/2026

I need professionals to stop using “but they’re fine here” as evidence that a child is fine.

They’re fine at school. They’re fine at their dad’s house. They’re fine with their support worker.
They’re fine in the therapy room. They’re fine when I see them.

Cool.

And then they get home and absolutely fall apart. That doesn’t mean the parent is the problem.

It doesn’t mean the behaviour is “attention seeking”. It doesn’t mean the child is manipulating different adults. And it definitely doesn’t mean the parent is exaggerating what is happening at home.

Sometimes it means the child has spent six hours holding their nervous system together with sticky tape and sheer determination. Sometimes the environment is more predictable. Sometimes the demands are different. Sometimes they don’t feel safe enough to fall apart until they get home. Sometimes they’re masking so successfully that everyone congratulates them for coping while completely missing the cost of that coping. And sometimes the person getting the biggest behaviours is the person the child feels safest with.

This is particularly important when we are talking about autistic children, ADHDers, PDA kids and children with significant anxiety or trauma.

Because if we only assess what a child looks like in the environment where they are holding it together, we are not assessing the whole child.

We’re assessing their performance. I see this everywhere. In schools.bIn NDIS reports. In Behaviour Support. In parenting assessments.
And, increasingly, in the Family Court.

“He doesn’t display those behaviours with me.”, “She presented as calm and engaged during the assessment.”, “The school has not observed the behaviours reported by the parent.”

None of those statements, on their own, tell us very much. The better question is:

What is different about the environments?

The demands.
The sensory load.
The relationships.
The predictability.
The autonomy.
The expectations.
The recovery time.
The masking.
The cumulative load.

Behaviour is information.

But only if we stop using it to decide who is telling the truth and start getting curious about what the nervous system is trying to tell us.

That shift matters.

Because “they’re fine here” has been used to disbelieve far too many children and far too many parents.

26/08/2026

Okay. I’ve been sitting on this one for a while.

About seven months, actually.

I’ve gone back to working in the Family Law space.
And honestly, a huge part of why I went back was because I started reading judgments again.

And I kept having the same thought: Holy s**t. We are still looking at so many neurodivergent families through a neurotypical lens.

And that matters. A lot.

Because if you don’t understand autism, ADHD, PDA, masking, burnout, sensory processing, executive functioning and different communication styles, you can get the meaning of what you’re seeing completely wrong.

An autistic parent who doesn’t show emotion in the way we expect can be described as cold or lacking empathy.

Someone who needs processing time can look evasive.

ADHD recall can look inconsistent.

Direct communication can look aggressive.

Shutdown can look like stonewalling.

A child who masks can look “fine”.

A PDA child absolutely losing it around changeovers can very quickly become a conversation about parental influence without anyone asking what transitioning between two homes is actually doing to that child’s nervous system.

And THAT is the bit I keep coming back to. Because once an interpretation makes its way into an assessment, it can make its way into evidence. And then into a judgment. And we are talking about decisions about children’s lives.

Where they live. Who they live with. How often they move between homes. Who they feel safe with.
Sometimes whether they see a parent at all. That is massive.

So I’ve gone back to doing Family Reports, Single Expert and specialist expert assessments, parenting capacity assessments, child and parent-child assessments, and complex assessments where neurodivergence, disability, trauma, family violence and parenting all collide.

The cases where everyone has a different explanation for what is happening.
Is this autism? Is it PDA? Trauma? Family violence?
Coercive control? Burnout? Sensory distress?
Attachment? Parenting capacity? Parental influence?
Or is it five of those things tangled together?

That differentiation matters.

And just to be really clear, because this matters too neurodivergence isn’t a get-out-of-jail-free card.

Autism doesn’t excuse coercive control. ADHD doesn’t excuse harmful behaviour. A diagnosis doesn’t automatically make someone a safe parent.

But equally, being autistic shouldn’t make someone look like an unsafe parent simply because we’re measuring them against neurotypical expectations.

I used to work as a Family Consultant writing Family Reports. Then I left that world and spent years getting much, much deeper into neurodivergence, disability, behaviour, trauma and families.

And somewhere along the way I realised: I would assess these families very differently now.
So I went back. For seven months I’ve just quietly been doing it.

Reading. Assessing. Writing. Questioning things. Going down ridiculous rabbit holes in judgments.

And now I’m finally ready to actually talk about it.

Because I think there is a gap here.

A pretty bloody big one.

And apparently I’m not very good at seeing a gap in a system and leaving it alone.

Jess xx

25/08/2026

Behaviour Support is having a bit of a moment. And, we’re not mad about it.

Because good Behaviour Support was never supposed to be about stopping behaviour, making people compliant, or producing a beautifully laminated list of strategies nobody actually uses.

It’s about understanding why something is happening. What is the person communicating? What’s overwhelming their nervous system? What sensory, environmental, relational or communication needs are being missed? What are we asking of the person that perhaps… isn’t working?

And sometimes the intervention isn’t changing the participant at all.

Sometimes it’s changing us.

The environment.
The expectations.
The communication.
The demands.
The way support is delivered.

That’s the Behaviour Support we believe in.

Neurodiversity-affirming. Trauma-informed. Relationship-first. Practical enough to actually work in real life.

And in a plot twist almost unheard of in allied health right now… we actually have capacity. 😂

I know. Suspicious.

Perfectly Imperfect currently has Behaviour Support capacity Australia-wide via Telehealth, including complex presentations, PDA profiles, family capacity building and support teams who want to understand the person not just manage their behaviour.

Because behaviour is communication.

Our job is to get curious enough to listen.

There has been another significant update to Thriving Kids, and if you are the parent of a young autistic child or a chi...
24/08/2026

There has been another significant update to Thriving Kids, and if you are the parent of a young autistic child or a child with developmental delay, this is one worth paying attention to.

Because we are no longer talking about a vague policy proposal somewhere off in the distance.

The rollout begins from 1 October 2026.

And yet, with just weeks to go, some of the biggest questions families have been asking still don't have clear answers.

The latest Thriving Kids update gives us more detail about where the system is heading and one part deserves much more scrutiny:
the increasing emphasis on supporting and “building the capacity” of parents.

Thriving Kids is being developed for children aged 8 and under with developmental delay and/or autism with low to moderate support needs, with a greater focus on community-based supports, early intervention and support around the child and family.

There are potentially good things here. Earlier support without requiring families to fight for a diagnosis or an NDIS plan could absolutely be beneficial.

But we need to be very careful about the narrative of “empowering parents”. Because there is a huge difference between supporting parents and shifting the responsibility for intervention onto them.

Parents of disabled and neurodivergent children are already advocates, case managers, school negotiators, appointment coordinators, researchers, therapists-by-default and often the person holding the entire family system together.

Many aren't lacking knowledge. They're lacking capacity because they're already drowning.

Teaching a parent sensory strategies doesn't replace an OT. Teaching communication strategies doesn't replace speech pathology. Teaching co-regulation doesn't provide respite. And another parenting program doesn't fix an inaccessible school, a two-year waitlist or a child who genuinely requires individualised therapeutic support.

Parent capacity-building can be incredibly valuable when it sits alongside adequate professional, practical and community support.

It becomes deeply problematic when it's used as the replacement for it.

That's what I'll be watching as Thriving Kids rolls out.

Because families don't need another system teaching them how to become better at carrying an impossible load. They need a system willing to carry some of that load with them. And if “parent empowerment” ultimately means parents do more because the system provides less, we haven't created better early intervention.

We've just moved the cost of it, financially, practically and emotionally, back onto families.

21/08/2026

I think we’ve confused support with making people easier to manage. And once you see it, you can’t unsee it.

A child is “doing well” because they’re quiet at school. A disabled adult is “making progress” because they’re more compliant with their routine. A family is “not engaging” because they’ve stopped attending meetings that leave them feeling blamed and unheard. A parent is “difficult” because they keep asking questions. A young person is “refusing support” because the support being offered doesn’t actually feel supportive.

We measure success by how convenient someone has become for the system.

Less disruptive.
Less demanding.
Less emotional.
Less resistant.
Less visible.

But I’m increasingly interested in a completely different set of questions.

Do they feel safe?

Do they have genuine choice?

Can they say no without losing access to support?

Are we building capacity or simply increasing tolerance for environments that hurt them?

Are we supporting regulation or rewarding masking?

Are we teaching independence or withdrawing help until they have no choice but to cope?

And perhaps the biggest one: If the person receiving the support doesn’t experience it as supportive, who exactly is it working for?

Because “successful intervention” should never mean everyone around them is more comfortable now. Sometimes progress is louder. Sometimes it looks like boundaries. Sometimes it looks like saying no. Sometimes it looks like a child who finally feels safe enough to stop holding it together. Sometimes it looks like a parent who has stopped being polite.

Sometimes it looks like a disabled person needing more support because they finally understand they were never supposed to white-knuckle their way through life without it.

Maybe we need to stop asking: “How do we get this person to function better in the system?” And start asking: “What is the system asking this person to survive?”

21/08/2026

Paediatric Occupational Therapist

Eastern Suburbs & Inner West, Sydney | Part-Time or Subcontractor

Perfectly Imperfect is looking for a Paediatric Occupational Therapist to join our growing clinical team.

And we’re looking for someone who understands that a child doesn’t need to be taught to tolerate an environment that is fundamentally not working for their nervous system.

We want an OT who is curious about the why.

Why is getting dressed so hard?
Why does school take everything they have?
Why are transitions enormous?
Why can they hold it together all day and fall apart at home?
What is their sensory system telling us?

The work:

This is predominantly hands-on paediatric clinical work, supporting neurodivergent children and young people across Sydney’s Eastern Suburbs and Inner West.

Your work may include:

* Sensory processing assessment and intervention
* Sensory integration approaches
* Emotional and nervous-system regulation
* Interoception and body awareness
* Fine and gross motor development
* Motor planning and coordination
* Executive functioning
* Play and participation
* Daily living skills
* School participation and environmental supports
* Parent/carer coaching and capacity building
* Supporting autistic, ADHD and PDA-profile children
* Working collaboratively with families, schools and multidisciplinary teams

Our approach is neurodiversity-affirming, trauma-informed, strengths-based and relationship-first.

We don’t measure success by how well a child can mask, comply, sit still or appear neurotypical.

We look at regulation, safety, autonomy, connection, participation and quality of life.

We’re looking for someone who:

* Is AHPRA registered as an Occupational Therapist
* Has experience working with children and young people
* Has a strong interest or experience in sensory processing and sensory integration
* Understands neurodivergence beyond a deficit model
* Is comfortable working with autistic and ADHD children, including children with complex support needs
* Values child-led, play-based and relationship-focused intervention
* Can work collaboratively with parents, schools and other clinicians
* Has a current Working With Children Check and NDIS Worker Screening Check
* Can travel across the Eastern Suburbs and Inner West

Experience or additional training in Sensory Integration, interoception, PDA, feeding, regulation or other paediatric OT frameworks would be very welcome.

Part-time OR subcontractor

We’re flexible.

We’re open to a part-time employee or subcontractor arrangement, depending on the person.

We want someone who wants to do excellent clinical work without being buried under ridiculous caseload expectations or having every clinical decision dictated by a KPI.

You’ll have autonomy, flexibility and the support of a multidisciplinary team that actually likes collaborating.

About us

Perfectly Imperfect is a neurodivergent-led, NDIS registered allied health and disability practice.

We’re big on:

Connection over compliance.
Curiosity over judgement.
Regulation before expectation.
Strengths without pretending challenges don’t exist.
And supporting kids to be more authentically themselves, not more convenient for the adults around them.

If you’ve ever thought, “There has to be a better way to do paediatric OT,” you might fit in very well here.

Send your CV and a little bit about yourself to:
[email protected]

Perfectly Imperfect | Sydney, NSW

Address

Level 1, Botany Road, Mascot, 2020
Sydney, NSW
1141

Opening Hours

Monday 9am - 8pm
Wednesday 8:30am - 5:30pm
Thursday 9am - 8pm

Telephone

0407 022 216

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