NDIS Changes and Our Community
As an autistic man and psychotherapist who walks alongside autistic young people and their families every day, I’ve been listening closely to the news about changes to the NDIS. Many of us have felt a deep sense of worry – not just about paperwork and eligibility, but about what this really means for our lives, our care, and our futures.
Fear, Stress, and Uncertainty
For many autistic people, the NDIS is more than a funding scheme. It’s the pathway to therapies, support workers, equipment, and opportunities to build independence and connection. When politicians talk about “tightening access” or “moving children with mild autism off the NDIS,” it doesn’t just sound like policy language – it lands in our bodies as fear. Families wonder: Will my child lose their support worker who finally understands them? Will I be left to navigate school struggles without help? What happens when my needs are seen as not ‘severe enough’ to matter?
I know that this uncertainty can cause anxiety, shutdowns, and deep stress. For autistic young people, the fear of losing stability is especially heavy. For parents and carers, the application process has always been complex and exhausting – and these changes only add to the emotional load.
What Might Be Changing
The government has announced plans to introduce “foundational supports” outside of the NDIS for children with mild to moderate developmental needs. While the full details are still unfolding, the idea is that some children may no longer qualify for NDIS packages and instead receive support through schools, community services, or health systems.
In theory, this could mean more children are reached earlier, without needing to go through a long diagnosis and NDIS application. But in practice, many families worry about gaps. Schools are already stretched. Community programs often lack autism understanding. And families fear being left in limbo – with less support, fewer choices, and more red tape.
Towards an Alternative Supportive Plan
If the NDIS is to change, we need to ask: what would actually feel safe and supportive for autistic people and families? Here are some ideas I believe could make a real difference:
Co-designed foundational supports. These services must be created with autistic people, families, and advocates at the table. Otherwise, they risk being tokenistic or unsuitable.
Choice and flexibility. Whether through NDIS or community supports, autistic people need to choose the therapies, supports, and workers that fit them best. One-size-fits-all programs rarely work.
Proper training for schools and services. Teachers, GPs, and community workers must receive neurodiversity-affirming training. Otherwise, “support” can feel more like exclusion or control.
Guaranteed continuity of care. No child or adult should lose access overnight. Transitions must be gradual, with safety nets in place.
Recognition that autism is lifelong. Supports should not disappear at 7, or 9, or 18. Autistic people deserve ongoing scaffolding across the lifespan – in education, employment, relationships, and community life.
Holding Hope
Change is unsettling, especially when it feels like it’s being done to us rather than with us. But I also believe our community is strong. I see daily the creativity, resilience, and advocacy of autistic young people and their families. We need to keep speaking up, holding the government accountable, and sharing stories of what real support looks like.
The NDIS was built on the principle of dignity and inclusion. If reforms are to be made, they must hold onto that heart – or risk breaking trust with the very people the scheme was designed to serve.
For now, I encourage families to connect with advocacy organisations, stay informed, and reach out for emotional support if the news is becoming overwhelming. You’re not alone in this