A priority highlighted by the disability community through Every Australian Counts pre-election survey 2025, is for political leaders to uphold the right not to be forced into group homes.  When we consider the future of the NDIS, we cannot forget that thousands of Australian’s with disabilities continue to live in large-scale, institutional group homes. We advocate for NDIS reform that preserves pathways for people to move on from congregate, institutional living, including people living with psychosocial disability. This article is a first-hand account of living in a Supported Residential Service (SRS, a Victorian congregate care housing model), who subsequently moved on from an SRS to an NDIS -funded housing solution. The writer has chosen to remain anonymous.

Private Congregate Care (PCC) settings exist Australia-wide. In Victoria, SRS are for-profit accommodation and support facilities that house large numbers (up to 80 in a single SRS) of people with psychosocial disability and other disabilities. Victorian SRS accommodate up to 4000 people, approximately 79% of whom live with disability. Approximately 30% are NDIS participants. Substantial evidence indicates that PCC residents are at heightened risk of exploitation, violence, abuse and neglect [1][2][3]

A Day in the Life of an SRS Resident: Reflections on the Need for Safe, Sustainable NDIS Housing Options

Written by a friend of Every Australian Counts (anon).

This is my firsthand account of life inside a Supported Residential Service (SRS) in Melbourne. Here, I walk readers through a typical day, emphasizing how the interplay of physical environment, care services, and social dynamics significantly impacts the mental health and wellbeing of residents – many of whom live with complex conditions. It ultimately argues for the necessity of tailored, sustainable housing that promote recovery and autonomy.

The day starts early – at 5am – with a struggle to sleep. Residents, myself included , face environmental disturbances such as traffic noise, intrusive streetlights, and insufficient blackout curtains. The building, originally commercial and not designed for habitation, exemplifies systemic failures in zoning regulations and oversight. This poor infrastructure compromises my sleep quality, underscoring how vital appropriate housing is for physical and mental health.

By 6am, it’s time for medications, but my experience is that the process is often not ideal. Pills may be dropped or missing, and side effects go unreported or unsupported. Staff struggle with logistics, which can endanger the residents’ well-being. The experience illustrates the need for consistent medication support, and access to well-trained staff. Reliable systems and effective communication are essential to ensure residents receive the support they need.

Morning routines, such as showering and personal hygiene, come with their own difficulties. Many residents require assistance, especially after incontinence episodes, and while most staff maintain professionalism and empathy, they work within significant constraints. Limited facilities and infection control concerns highlight the pressing need for better-designed home and living environments, including bathrooms, accessible equipment, and laundry systems to uphold hygiene and safety for everyone involved.

Some SRS have group activities are scheduled throughout the day, they are for resident engagement and to foster community. Outings and programs such as arts and crafts, word games, and bus tours offer a break from monotony, but participation is inconsistent. Some residents decline for a range of reasons , for example due to mistrust, anxiety, or disinterest. These mixed responses point to the importance of individualized support and a broader range of offerings – including technology-based engagement, exercise programs, and access to allied health services like occupational therapy. The arrival of new residents without proper orientation or support often adds to the emotional turbulence and isolation within the SRS.

Mealtimes, particularly morning tea and lunch, bring logistical and dietary challenges. The food service staff work under immense pressure, catering to a range of dietary needs while managing food safety, budget constraints, and cleanliness. Despite their vital role, kitchen staff are often underappreciated. Additionally, dining areas can become tense due to incompatible seating arrangements or personality clashes, revealing how even meals can be a source of stress in communal settings.

Unpredictable incidents – ranging from verbal altercations to violence – disrupt the day. These stem from the diverse support needs of residents, some of whom have histories of incarceration or addiction. The complexity of these dynamics requires nuanced safety protocols, trauma-informed care, and better legal education for residents about their rights and responsibilities. Unfortunately, fear of retaliation or distrust in the system often discourages people from reporting incidents.

Afternoon activities bring some relief, with meditation, gardening, and visits from external groups offering moments of connection and lightheartedness. Yet, with or without infection control protocols or online workshops/groups/communities, infection can limit participation. Still, these sessions are valuable for emotional wellbeing and provide structure to the day.

Evenings begin early, with dinner served around 5pm. Night time introduces more challenges, as conflicting routines among residents – some loud, others needing quiet – lead to tension. Room assignments don’t always prioritize compatibility, and once again, the importance of thoughtful placement, thorough communication, and collaboration between staff, residents, and external services is evident.

In conclusion, my experience reveals the deep flaws in the SRS model – particularly for individuals with psychosocial disability. The system often sacrifices dignity, safety, and recovery for cost and convenience.

I have  since moved into NDIS -funded purpose-designed housing, tailored to my needs. In this new setting – quiet, private, and stable – I find peace, routine, and the freedom to imagine a better future, including employment. The contrast between institutional living and supported independence highlights a powerful truth: housing is more than shelter—it is the foundation for health, safety, and recovery. I’m asking for urgent NDIS policy reform to guarantee ongoing access to purpose-designed, tailored, sustainable housing options that honour the rights and needs of people with disabilities, including psychosocial disabilities.

References:

1. Public hearing 26: Homelessness, including experience in boarding houses, hostels and other arrangements | Royal Commission into Violence, Abuse, Neglect and Exploitation of People with Disability

1. McVilly, K., Ainsworth, S., Graham, L., Harrison, M., Sojo, V., Spivakovsky, C., Gale, L., Genat, A., Zirnsak, T. (2022). Outcomes associated with ‘inclusive’, ‘segregated’ and ‘integrated’ settings: Accommodation and community living, employment and education. A research report commissioned by the Royal Commission into Violence, Abuse, Neglect and Exploitation of People with Disability. University of Melbourne, Australia. P.50, published March 07 2023
2. Dearn, E., Ramcharan, P., Weller, P., Brophy, L. & Johnson, K. (2022) Supported residential services as a type of “total institution”: Implications for the National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS). Australian Journal of Social Issues, 00, 1–17. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1002/ajs4.233