23/09/2026
DOES ANYONE CARE?
I want to raise something that I believe we need to talk about more openly in disability support.
What happens when a person living in Supported Independent Living doesn't actually feel supported?
What happens when there are so many different support workers coming through the door that the house never truly feels settled?
What happens when the people living there feel as though they are simply being looked after, rather than genuinely known, valued and cared about?
And then we wonder why behaviour changes.
For someone living with an intellectual disability, autism, ADHD, PDA or other complex needs, behaviour is not always simply “bad behaviour.” Sometimes we need to stop looking only at what the person is doing and start asking:
What is this person trying to tell us?
Are they lonely?
Do they feel invisible?
Are they seeking connection?
Do they feel safe?
Do they feel important to somebody?
Do they feel that the people supporting them actually want to be there?
Our nephew Ryan lives in SIL, and sometimes his need for attention and reassurance comes out in very difficult ways.
There have been occasions when he has locked himself in his bedroom, refused breakfast and refused his medication. Later, he has rung me and said, “The support worker didn't give me my breakfast or my medication.”
From the outside, you could simply call that manipulation or difficult behaviour.
But I believe we need to look deeper.
Ryan knows I care. He knows I will listen. And sometimes creating a situation in which I become involved appears to give him something he desperately wants — my attention, reassurance and connection.
That doesn't mean inappropriate behaviour should simply be accepted. It means we need to understand what is driving it while still maintaining clear and consistent boundaries.
But perhaps we also need to ask another important question:
Are our support workers being given the training, guidance and support they need to do this incredibly important job well?
Is there enough communication between management and the people who actually work in these homes every day?
Are support workers being taught not only how to complete the required tasks, administer medication, prepare meals and write reports, but how to build trust, create connection, understand behaviour and help turn a house into a home?
Because this responsibility cannot sit solely on the shoulders of the support worker.
Management and providers have a responsibility to create the culture that flows through every SIL home.
Support workers need good leadership, appropriate training, consistent expectations and somewhere to turn when behaviours become difficult, or they simply don't know what to do.
They need to understand each individual — their personality, communication, triggers, strengths, goals, and what makes them feel safe, valued, and included.
Perhaps one of the questions we aren't asking enough is:
What support are we giving the people who are doing the supporting?
Because this is where good support work can make an enormous difference.
A SIL should not feel like a workplace where participants happen to live.
It is their home.
Imagine strangers and constantly changing workers walking through your home every week. Imagine never knowing who will be there tomorrow, how they will speak to you, whether they understand you, or whether they genuinely care about what happened in your day.
Consistency matters.
Relationships matter.
Trust matters.
And genuine human connection matters.
A great support worker doesn't need to become a participant's family, and professional boundaries are important. But they can help create a home where a person experiences belonging, dignity, warmth, respect, and emotional safety.
It can be in the smallest things.
Sit down and have breakfast together.
Ask them how they slept — and actually listen to the answer.
Know what makes them laugh.
Know what frightens or frustrates them.
Celebrate something they did well.
Share experiences.
Teach rather than simply do everything for them.
Include them in planning meals, shopping and household decisions.
Encourage independence instead of creating dependence.
Notice when they are unusually quiet or withdrawn.
Don't spend the shift staring at a phone while the person you are there to support sits alone.
When challenging behaviour occurs, don't immediately ask:
“What's wrong with him?”
Instead ask:
“What happened? What does he need? What might he be trying to communicate? And what can we do differently?”
A SIL should never become simply a house where people with disabilities exist while shifts come and go.
It should be a place where the people who live there are encouraged to learn, participate, develop relationships, build independence, laugh, contribute, and feel proud of their home.
Most importantly, don't make someone feel like a task on a roster.
People with disabilities still need what every human being needs: to feel seen, heard, respected, valued and connected.
We may not be able to eliminate every challenging behaviour. Disability is complex, and there can be many reasons behind behaviour.
But imagine how much could change if every support worker walked through the door thinking:
“This is their home. How can I help the people who live here feel safe, capable, valued, that they belong, and that I am here for them?”
And imagine if every manager and provider asked:
“Have we given our support workers the training, knowledge, leadership and support they need to make that possible?”
Support work isn't only cooking meals, administering medication, completing paperwork and finishing a shift.
You're supporting a human being.
The goal should never be simply to help someone survive from one day to the next.
It should be to give them every opportunity to thrive.
Because sometimes the most important thing we can give another human being isn't something written in their support plan.
It's the feeling that they matter.
And everybody deserves to feel that somebody cares.
