Wyoming Budget Cuts Could Leave Kids and Seniors in Crisis, Nonprofits Warn

In a heartfelt letter, the Youth Crisis Center’s director urges Wyoming legislators to protect funding for local nonprofits helping vulnerable families facing homelessness and mental health challenges.

Dear Legislators,

I’m writing this with a heavy heart, because what’s happening right now in Cheyenne feels like it could break something precious in the soul of our state.

Wyoming is the kind of place we all chose—or stayed—for the wide-open spaces, the quiet mountains, the freedom to live close to the land and to each other. But that same vastness, that low population we love, leaves big gaps. Gaps where people fall through—kids in crisis, elderly folks eating alone, families losing their homes, neighbors battling addiction or mental health demons in silence. These aren’t statistics. They’re our neighbors. Our kids’ friends. Our grandparents. People we see at the grocery store, trying to hold it together.

And when they need help—real, immediate, life-changing help—it’s not the state or county governments stepping in with big programs. It’s us. The local nonprofits. Meals on Wheels delivering hot food to a shut-in who hasn’t spoken to anyone in days. The Child Advocacy Project holding a scared kid’s hand through the worst day of their life. Mercer Family Resources giving a struggling family a fighting chance. Youth Emergency Services in Gillette keeping a teenager from making a permanent mistake. The Youth Crisis Center here in Casper, opening its doors at 2 a.m. to a kid who has nowhere else to go.

These aren’t fancy bureaucracies. They’re run by local folks—board members who live here, who know these streets, who watch every penny like it’s their own because they know exactly where it’s going: straight to someone who’s hurting. We stretch dollars further than any government could, because we have to. We have no choice. Transparency isn’t optional; it’s survival. We report every dime because we answer to our communities, not just auditors.

The hard truth? Our state and local governments don’t run these services themselves. They rely on us—completely. They refer people to us daily, lean on us heavily, and then fund us only partially. We make up the rest through grants, donations, endless fundraisers. We beg, borrow, and scrape just to keep the lights on and the doors open.

Now, as budget talks heat up and cuts to state agencies look more and more likely, I’m scared. Not for my organization’s bottom line—for the people we serve. Because history shows what happens: when an agency gets squeezed, the first thing to go is the contracts with nonprofits like ours. It’s the easiest cut on paper. Agencies protect their own staff and buildings; the “savings” come out of our hides. Then the finger-pointing starts—agencies blame the legislature, the legislature blames the agencies—and in the middle, we’re left slashing programs, laying off staff, turning away people who have nowhere else.

We’ve got generous foundations and good-hearted donors in Wyoming, but the needs are exploding. One more fundraiser won’t cover it. The well is running dry. People are tired, wallets are tight, and the problems—homelessness, mental health crises, at-risk kids—are only getting worse.

If these cuts go through, real people will suffer. A senior will go hungry. A child in crisis will slip through the cracks. A family on the edge will break. And once those doors close, they don’t reopen easily. We’re already at the breaking point—doing more with less every single day, running on fumes and sheer stubborn love for our communities.

I’m asking you—please, look into your hearts. Think about why we’re all here in Wyoming: the values of self-reliance, neighbor helping neighbor, taking care of our own. These nonprofits aren’t extras; we’re the safety net in a state too rural and spread out to have the big government systems other places do. We do this work on behalf of all of us—on behalf of the government that can’t do it alone.

Please don’t let the cuts fall on the most vulnerable. Invest in us. Support us. At the very least, sit down with us—talk to the people on the front lines—and hear what these cuts will really mean. The needs are growing. People are hurting right now. And as Wyomingites, we have a duty to step up, not turn away.

With hope, but real fear for what’s coming,

David Hulshizer M.P.A. Executive Director Youth Crisis Center Inc.