A System Built for Crisis, Not for Us

AllBlog
Written By Belinda Young

We like to think that if things get tough, there’s help available, and technically, that’s true. Across Melbourne’s Outer East there is a network of organisations offering food relief, bill support, financial counselling, housing pathways and crisis assistance. It’s a system built with care, staffed by people who are deeply committed, and it plays a critical role in keeping people afloat.

However, when you step back and look at how that system actually works on the ground, a different picture starts to emerge. One that matters deeply for communities like ours in the hills.

Most financial hardship services are clustered in major centres like Ringwood, Lilydale and Box Hill. If you live nearby, access is relatively straightforward. There are train lines, bus routes, multiple services within reach. But if you live further up the mountain, in places like Olinda or Kalorama or even parts of Upwey, the reality shifts.

Simply put, getting help often requires a car. It can mean a drive of 20 to 40 minutes. It can mean fuel you may not have, and it can mean navigating limited public transport, often with a walk at either end that simply isn’t practical with children, groceries, or when you’re already stretched.

So while services exist, they are not always accessible, and that distinction matters.

At the same time, the system itself is designed to respond to crisis. It works best when someone has reached a point where they can no longer cope, when the fridge is empty, when the bills are overdue or when something has tipped from difficult into urgent.

What it is not designed to do, at least not consistently, is respond to the quieter moments that come before that. The point where fuel prices creep up and suddenly the weekly drive to a class or a catch up feels like too much. The moment where you start saying no to things that keep you connected. Slowly, ever so slowly, you start experiencing a narrowing of your world.

For many mums, those moments are where the real risk lies. We know that isolation doesn’t arrive all at once, but creeps. It happens when connection becomes harder to maintain, when confidence dips, when routines fall away. It can happen when children start school, or high school, or leave home. It can happen when work changes, or stops. Increasingly, it’s happening when the cost of simply getting out the door becomes too high.

Yet there is no part of the hardship system specifically designed around this experience. There is no mum-centred financial support model that recognises how closely connection, confidence and economic participation are linked. Instead, much of that support sits informally, in communities, in relationships, in places where people feel safe enough to say “I’m not quite okay”. Yup… I hear you… it’s what we see, read and hear in our private online group every, single, day.

There are other gaps too. Many services operate limited hours, often during the day (closing at noon), which can make access difficult for working families. Navigating the system can be complex, requiring people to tell their story multiple times across different organisations. Behind the scenes, many of these services rely heavily on volunteers, doing extraordinary work under increasing pressure. I can only imagine the stress they must be under at this moment in time.

None of this is a criticism of the services themselves. They are doing exactly what they were designed to do, often with limited resources. However, it does highlight something really important. The system we rely on is centralised, crisis-focused and transport-dependent, yet our community is none of those things.

The hills are spread out and people are time poor. Costs are rising and the barriers to staying connected are growing. This is where local, place-based responses become so important - not as a replacement for the existing system, but as a complement to it. As a way of reaching people earlier, before things escalate and a way of reducing the need for crisis support altogether. Dare I say it… prevention…that’s where MOTHs tries to operate.

Sometimes support doesn’t look like a food parcel or a voucher, instead looking like a local program you can actually get to, or a space where you don’t have to explain everything from the beginning. A familiar face and a sense that you still belong, even when things feel uncertain goes so far. A big hat off to charities Foothills Community Care, The Philanthropic Collective and the Montrose Township Group for their fantastic work.

When we talk about resilience, this is what we mean. The Outer East has a strong safety net, but like any net, it has gaps and increasingly, those gaps are where people are living. The opportunity in front of us is not just to strengthen the net, but to build the pathways that stop people from falling through it in the first place.

Where to find support in Melbourne’s Outer East

If you or someone you know needs support, these services are a good place to start.

Emergency relief and financial assistance

Food relief and material aid

Financial counselling and money support

Housing and homelessness support

Utility and bill support

  • Yarra Valley Water
    https://www.yvw.com.au/help-advice/help-paying-your-bill

  • South East Water
    https://southeastwater.com.au/residential/accounts-and-billing/help-paying-your-bill/

  • AusNet Services: https://www.ausnetservices.com.au/Outages/Electricity-outages/Compensation

  • Utility Relief Grant Scheme (Victoria): https://services.dffh.vic.gov.au/utility-relief-grant-scheme

Family violence and crisis support

If you’re not sure where to start, reaching out to one of the emergency relief providers is often the easiest first step. They can help you navigate what’s available and connect you with the right support.

Belinda Young
Next

March