Perfectly Imperfect

18/06/2026

This is us too!!

18/06/2026

Nobody talks about the grief.

Not the grief of losing someone.

The grief of realising the world was never designed for you.

The grief of watching your child work twice as hard for half the understanding.

The grief of sitting in meetings where people talk about inclusion while actively excluding you.

The grief of explaining the same thing for the hundredth time.

The grief of knowing exactly what support is needed and then being told there isn’t enough funding, enough staff, enough resources, enough time.

The grief of constantly having to prove disability is disabling.

The grief of watching people celebrate “awareness” while refusing to make actual accommodations.

The grief of seeing your child, your partner, yourself, bending, masking, shrinking, performing, just to survive systems that should have adapted decades ago.

Most disabled people aren’t grieving their disability. We certainly are not!!!

They’re grieving the barriers.

The assumptions.

The judgment.

The exclusion.

The fight.

The endless advocacy.

The fact that access is still treated as a favour instead of a right.

And if you’re a parent or carer?

Sometimes you’re grieving too.

The version of parenting you thought you’d have.

The support you thought would exist.

The village everyone promised but nobody delivered.

The energy you’ve spent educating professionals who should already know better.

The exhaustion of carrying everyone else’s misunderstanding.

And yet.

Tomorrow you’ll get up and do it again.

You’ll make the phone calls.

Attend the meetings.

Write the emails.

Fight the battles.

Hold the nervous systems.

Because that’s what happens when love and survival become the same thing.

But can we stop pretending that doesn’t come at a cost?

What’s something you’ve had to grieve that nobody prepared you for?

17/06/2026

Allied Health Assistant (AHA) – Neurodiversity Affirming | Sydney

Location: Mascot, Sydney NSW + Community-Based Supports
Employment Type: Casual / Part-Time (with potential to grow)
Salary: Above Award + Professional Development Opportunities

At Perfectly Imperfect, we don't do compliance over connection.

We are a neurodivergent-led, NDIS Registered Provider supporting autistic, ADHD, PDA, intellectually disabled, psychosocial, and high and complex support needs participants across Australia.

Our mission is simple:

Create a world with more inclusive schools, workplaces, and communities.

We're looking for an Allied Health Assistant who shares that vision.

Someone who understands that behaviour is communication. Someone who sees the person before the diagnosis. Someone who is prepared to challenge outdated systems and walk alongside participants with compassion, curiosity, and respect.

About the Role

You will work under the supervision of our Allied Health team to implement therapy and capacity-building programs within participants' homes, schools, workplaces, and communities. AHAs support participants to practice skills and strategies developed by clinicians and help bridge the gap between sessions.

This role is ideal for:

Allied Health students (OT, Speech, Psychology, Social Work, Exercise Physiology)
Recent graduates
Experienced disability support workers wanting to expand into allied health
AHAs with lived experience of disability or neurodivergence
What You'll Be Doing
Supporting participants to work towards their NDIS goals
Implementing clinician-designed therapy programs
Building confidence with daily living skills
Supporting community access and participation
Assisting with emotional regulation and nervous system safety
Supporting social connection and relationship-building
Collecting observations and data to assist our clinicians
Working collaboratively with families and support teams
Helping participants develop independence in ways that are meaningful to them

AHAs work under the delegation and supervision of allied health professionals to implement therapy plans and build participant capacity.

What We Value

We care far more about your values than your resume.

You might be a great fit if you:

* Believe connection comes before compliance
* Understand neurodiversity-affirming practice
* Are curious, reflective, and willing to learn
* Have strong communication skills
* Can think flexibly and creatively
* Are comfortable supporting participants with complex presentations
* Understand trauma-informed practice
* Value participant autonomy, dignity, and consent

Bonus points if you have experience supporting:

Autism
ADHD
PDA
Intellectual Disability
Psychosocial Disability
High and Complex Support Needs
Restrictive Practice Reduction
School Inclusion
Essential Requirements
Working With Children Check
NDIS Worker Screening Check
Current First Aid & CPR
Driver's Licence and reliable vehicle
Ability to work independently in community settings
Excellent written and verbal communication skills

What You'll Get:
Clinical supervision and mentoring
Ongoing professional development
Flexible working arrangements
A genuinely neurodiversity-affirming workplace
Opportunities for career progression
The chance to make a real difference

Most importantly?

You'll be joining a team that believes people deserve to belong exactly as they are.

No behaviour charts.

No compliance programs.

No fixing people.

Just good humans doing meaningful work.

How to Apply

Send your resume and a short cover letter telling us:

Why Perfectly Imperfect?

We want to know what drives you, what inclusion means to you, and why you're passionate about supporting neurodivergent and disabled people.

Email: [email protected]

Subject Line: Allied Health Assistant Application

Perfectly Imperfect welcomes applications from neurodivergent individuals, people with disability, LGBTQIA+ applicants, and people from diverse cultural backgrounds. Lived experience is valued and encouraged.

16/06/2026

As someone who spends most of my working week supporting neurodivergent children, families, schools and educators, I’m always looking for resources that move the conversation forward.

Not because schools need more information. Because children need schools that actually do something with it.

Recently I finished reading Neurodiversity Affirming Schools by Emily Kircher-Morris and Amanda Morin.

The question I’ve been asked is simple: Should every school read it? My answer is also simple.

Yes.

But reading it and implementing it are two very different things. And that’s where things get interesting.

One of the things I appreciated most about this book is that it starts from a place of understanding rather than compliance.

It acknowledges something many neurodivergent people have been trying to tell educators for decades: Behaviour doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Children don’t wake up and decide to be difficult. Students don’t melt down because they enjoy chaos.
Young people aren’t refusing because they want to make life harder for the adults around them.

Behaviour is communication. Distress is communication. Withdrawal is communication. Masking is communication.

The book explores many of the experiences neurodivergent students face, including sensory differences, emotional regulation, burnout, masking, rejection sensitivity and environmental fit.

For me, that’s a huge tick.

Because the moment we stop asking, “How do we make this child comply?” and start asking, “What is this child trying to communicate?” everything changes.

The other strength is that it doesn’t just talk about inclusion as a concept. It offers practical strategies.

And we know, teachers are drowning. Most educators I meet genuinely care. They want to help. They want students to feel safe and included. But many have never been taught how. This book provides a solid starting point.

Because reality is harder than the book. The book assumes that schools want to be inclusive. And many do. But some don’t.

Or perhaps more accurately, some say they do while continuing practices that actively exclude neurodivergent students.

Because here’s what I see every week.

Schools sending children home because they’re overwhelmed. Schools suspending students for disability-related behaviours. Schools refusing accommodations because they’re “unfair.” Schools expecting self-regulation from children whose nervous systems are already operating in survival mode. Schools calling parents to collect children because they’re inconvenient rather than distressed. Schools talking about inclusion while practising exclusion.

And that’s the challenge. Those schools don’t need another book. They need accountability.

No amount of professional development changes culture if leadership isn’t prepared to challenge their own beliefs.

We’ve spent years educating schools about neurodiversity. The information exists. The webinars exist. The books exist. The research exists. The lived experience exists.

So why are so many families still fighting the same battles?

Because knowledge isn’t the barrier anymore. Implementation is. Most schools can tell you what co-regulation is from a theoretical perspective. Far fewer consistently practise it.

Most schools can define masking. Far fewer recognise it in the student who appears compliant all day and then collapses at home.

Most schools can explain reasonable adjustments. Far fewer implement them in a meaningful way.

The gap between what schools know and what schools do is where many neurodivergent children continue to get hurt.

For families supporting children with a PDA profile, I think this book is helpful, but it isn’t enough on its own.

It provides a strong foundation around neurodiversity and inclusion, but PDA requires a deeper understanding of autonomy, threat responses, demand sensitivity and nervous system activation.

I’d still recommend additional PDA-specific learning for schools supporting these students.

Because understanding autism doesn’t automatically mean understanding PDA.

And many families know that all too well.

So should every school have this book? Yes.
Without hesitation. It should be in every principal’s office. Every learning support department. Every school counsellor’s library. Every executive team’s professional development collection.

If I had to choose between a school that owns this book and a school that genuinely listens to families, co-regulates with students, provides sensory safety, respects accommodations and understands behaviour as communication? I’d choose the second school every single time.

Because books don’t create inclusion. People do. Relationships do. Curiosity does. Humility does. Listening does. And the willingness to change does.

14/06/2026

"How many times do I have to tell you?"

If you've ever found yourself saying that, you are definitely not alone!

But what if your child isn't actually ignoring you?

What if the problem isn't listening at all?

Following an instruction requires a surprising number of skills:

1. Hearing the instruction
2. Processing the language
3. Remembering the task
4. Shifting attention
5. Managing emotions
6. Starting the task
7. Completing the task

For many neurodivergent children, particularly those with ADHD, autism, executive functioning challenges, or demand avoidance, one or more of these steps can be incredibly difficult.

What looks like defiance may actually be:

1. Overwhelm
2. Anxiety
3. Sensory overload
4. Executive functioning challenges
5. Nervous system dysregulation

At Perfectly Imperfect, we often say:

Distress is not defiance.

When we stop asking, "Why won't they listen?" and start asking, "What's making this difficult?", everything changes.

We move from punishment to support.
From frustration to understanding.
From compliance to connection.

Because behaviour is communication.

And understanding will always take us further than assumptions.

What's one behaviour you've seen differently after learning more about neurodivergence?

10/06/2026

This conversation is for the parents sitting in car parks after school meetings.

The ones answering calls from the school every week.

The ones lying awake at 2am wondering how a child who desperately wants connection, learning and belonging can become so overwhelmed that they simply cannot walk through the school gates.

Join neurodivergent therapists, founders and mums, Kate Broderick and Jess Dolev, as we unpack the reality of School Can’t.

In this episode, we explore:

• Why “School Can’t” is often a more accurate and compassionate term than “school refusal”

• What happens when a child’s nervous system spends too long in survival mode

• The hidden factors that schools, professionals and families often miss, including interoception, alexithymia, rejection sensitivity, sensory overwhelm, prosopagnosia and gestalt language processing

• How repeated experiences of misunderstanding, exclusion and unmet needs can contribute to school trauma

• Why behaviour is often the tip of the iceberg, not the problem itself

• Practical ways parents can protect their own nervous systems during difficult school meetings and advocacy journeys

• What genuine collaboration looks like when the goal is inclusion rather than compliance

Most importantly, we talk about the reality that many families know all too well:

Children don’t stop attending school because they don’t care.

Many stop because the cost of getting there has become greater than what their nervous system can sustain.

This is a big conversation. A nuanced conversation. And one we believe every parent, educator and therapist needs to hear.

Because School Can’t isn’t a parenting failure.

It isn’t a motivation problem.

And it certainly isn’t solved through more pressure.

🎧 Search The Spot Life Podcast – Episode 29: School Can’t



https://www.instagram.com/p/DR3z14Kk_FM/?igsh=MXA2dXRwbW5ranNxYQ==

10/06/2026

10/06/2026

Nobody talks about what parenting a child with PDA does to the parent.

Not really.

People talk about the anxiety.
The demand avoidance.
The meltdowns.
The nervous system.

But they rarely talk about the person standing next to it every single day. The one carrying it. The one absorbing it. The one sacrificing themselves to accommodate it.

Because here’s the reality. When you parent a child or adult with PDA, the demands don’t just impact them. They impact you too.

Every request has to be considered. Every transition has to be planned. Every outing has to have an exit strategy. Every conversation has to be carefully worded. Every day feels like you’re navigating a minefield whilst pretending you’re not.

And the hardest part for me? You don’t get to have a bad day. You don’t get to be frustrated. You don’t get to be overwhelmed. You don’t get to snap.

Because their nervous system is already so heightened that your stress becomes another thing it has to respond to.

You regulate when you desperately need someone to regulate you. You stay calm when your own nervous system is begging for mercy.

And eventually something starts to happen. You stop existing as a person. You become a nervous system manager. A crisis prevention officer. A negotiator.
A co-regulator. An advocate. A support worker. A case manager. A therapist. A teacher. A punching bag for systems that should know better. And somewhere amongst all of that, you disappear.

I am tired.

Not because I don’t love my son. I would walk through fire for my son.

I’m tired because I’ve been carrying a level of hypervigilance that no human being was designed to carry. For years. I’m tired of having to think ten steps ahead before I open my mouth. I’m tired of managing school systems that still don’t understand. I’m tired of advocating for supports that should already exist.

I’m tired of being told to practise self-care by people who have never had to co-regulate another human being through every hour of every day.

Some days I don’t feel resilient. Some days I feel broken. Because there is only so much a nervous system can absorb before it starts waving a white flag.

The thing nobody wants to admit is that PDA doesn’t just affect the person experiencing it. It affects the entire family. The siblings. The parents. The relationships. The finances. The careers. The marriages. The mental health of everyone involved.

And whilst we spend so much time talking about supporting PDA children, we rarely talk about supporting the people who are holding everything together behind the scenes.

The parents who haven’t had a chance to fall apart because there has never been room to. The parents who are running on fumes. The parents who are carrying impossible loads with no finish line in sight.
The parents who love fiercely but are quietly drowning.

I see you. Because lately, I am you.

09/06/2026

I don’t think people understand what it does to a person to spend years fighting for things that should never have required a fight in the first place.

Not extra privileges.

Not special treatment.

Not lowered expectations.

Basic human dignity.

Basic inclusion.

Basic understanding.

For years now, our family has sat in meetings, written emails, explained neuroscience, provided reports, attended appointments, educated professionals, advocated for accommodations, challenged assumptions, corrected misinformation, and tried to build bridges.

And I am a mixture of frustrated and defeated.

The hardest part isn’t the appointments.

It isn’t the paperwork.

It isn’t even the behaviour.

It’s the constant feeling that if you stop pushing, everything falls apart.

That if you don’t send the email, attend the meeting, challenge the decision, explain the science, remind people of the legislation, advocate for the accommodation…

Nobody else will.

And yet somehow, we’re expected to keep doing it politely.

Patiently.

Graciously.

While watching our children pay the price for systems that should know better by now.

I know I’m not the only parent feeling this.

I know there are parents reading this while sitting in their car after another difficult school call.

Parents who have cried in bathroom stalls at work.

Parents who have become experts in disability legislation when all they ever wanted was to be Mum or Dad.

Parents who are carrying an entire support system on their backs because the actual system keeps failing.

The truth is, advocacy is exhausting because it comes from love.

We fight because we love our children.

We educate because we love our children.

We keep showing up because we love our children.

But loving our children shouldn’t require us to become lawyers, therapists, educators, behaviour specialists and disability advocates all at once.

Some days, I wonder what life would feel like if we could just be parents.

Not case managers.

Not advocates.

Not crisis coordinators.

Just parents.

And maybe that’s what inclusion should really look like.

A world where our kids are understood enough that we can finally put down the armour.

Even if only for a little while.

07/06/2026

We didn’t design this because we wanted another app.

We designed it because we were tired.

Tired of families having to remember every incident, every trigger, every win, every meltdown, every sleepless night and every phone call.

Tired of practitioners making recommendations based on what they saw in a one-hour appointment rather than what was actually happening in real life.

Tired of parents carrying the mental load of being the historian, detective, advocate and case manager all at once.

As parents of neurodivergent children ourselves, we know what it’s like to be sitting in a meeting and suddenly forget the 47 things that happened that week.

We know what it’s like to have a child struggling at school, at home, in the community, and everyone seeing only one small piece of the puzzle.

We know what it’s like to tell the same story over and over again to different professionals.

So we built something different.

Something designed from lived experience.

Something that captures the reality of daily life.

Something that helps identify patterns, understand behaviour through a nervous system lens, and gives families and practitioners a clearer picture of what’s actually going on.

Because behaviour support should be based on real life.

Not memory.

Not guesswork.

Not what happens during a scheduled appointment.

We’re looking for families, support workers and practitioners who want to work differently.

Curious?

Send us a message and we’ll show you what we’ve been building behind the scenes.