"Reaching out for help"

About a year and a half ago, I was having a severe panic attack. Desperate and scared, I called the post for help. A local nurse picked up. I managed to say hello and asked if someone was available—I needed to come in urgently. Once they heard my name, their tone changed. I recall they snapped, we’re busy right now, call back later, and hung up.

What if that had been the moment I broke?

Who would have carried the weight of that outcome? Because I reached out to the system that was meant to help me, and it shut the door in my face.

I’m not the only one. For years, it seems I and others have been made to feel small, judged, and even humiliated. There were whispers in our community—painful ones—about how private medical information was shared. People were gossiped about. Who had what STD, who was with who—passed around like it was entertainment instead of protected health information. That breach of trust cut deep.