In the late 1990s, I felt like the world would be better off without me. I had a good job with Mendocino Department of Transportation as heavy equipment operator and was also a volunteer firefighter and EMT. But I was struggling with untreated post traumatic stress disorder and historical trauma, conditions I spent years trying to mask by abusing drugs and alcohol until I became addicted.
I had a shotgun pointed at my head and my finger on the trigger when I called a suicide hotline. I really wanted to pull the trigger, but I also didn’t want to. Like many suicidal people, as research shows, I was looking for any reason to live, any reason for hope.
One of the first questions the operator asked me was “Do you have any weapons in the household?” I hung up right there. Having worked with law enforcement, I believed if I answered that question honestly the operator would have called 911, told them I was a “dangerous, suicidal man with a gun” and officers would show up and beat down my door.
I feared I’d lose my job and everything I worked for, so I ended up seeking help on my own. Through treatment, a little medication and my tribal ceremonies, I am celebrating my 16th year of sobriety this year. But it shouldn’t have been so hard to reach out.
Given my own personal experiences, I have found the reporting and discussion around the Boulder Creek shooting distressing and disheartening. I fear the rush to jump to conclusions and to vaguely report that Stephen Bukwich has a “mental illness,” based on one source who’s only a “friend,” is unnecessarily perpetuating stereotypes that discourage people from seeking the help they need.
By reporting Bukwich has some unidentified “mental illness,” the Record Searchlight is clearly implying that his violent behavior was directly connected to a mental health disorder. This is a very incomplete picture, and it paints all of us who have mental health challenges (more than half of us will have a diagnosable issue over the course of our lives) with one broad brush as potentially violent. There are important questions that need to be answered before such an implication can be made: What is the person’s actual diagnosis? Was he also abusing substances? What kind of treatment did he receive? What other factors in his life might have contributed to violent behavior?
The point is not to lay blame on one factor over another, but to acknowledge a violent act can have many causes. Most research indicates that having a mental illness does very little to increase the likelihood of violence, unless, perhaps, there is a co-occurring substance abuse disorder. To report otherwise is a reckless disregard for the truth.
Superficial reports also give the impression that most people with a mental health challenge are dangerous or “crazy” when the vast majority of us are just regular, peaceful folks trying to make it and be happy like everyone else. A big reason people get stuck in denial about their mental health problems, even when the symptoms are obvious, is they don’t want to be labeled as dangerous or violent like the people in the news.
That was what I faced when I was holding a shotgun to my head so many years ago.
I know that local officers receive some crisis intervention training that gives them tools to de-escalate situations involving people in a mental health crisis. Surely, there are incidents where that has helped prevent violence that we will never hear about. But, in my experience, officers receive a lot more training on how to neutralize a threat to themselves and the public as quickly as possible.
Until we really value de-escalation and invest in it, we will probably be doomed to see more incidents like this in the future. We also need to investigate what we can do differently when an armed resident is suicidal or in a crisis. I understand there is a balance with safety to acknowledge, but the status quo isn’t good enough.
And until there is change, there will continue to be many men in the position I once was: Suffering deeply in pain and fearing, whether rationally or not, if they ask for help, they’ll lose everything, even their lives.
David Martinez lives in Whitmore resident. He’s a Winnemem Wintu Tribal member, and a Brave Faces and Voices advocate with the Stand Against Stigma campaign.
Men reluctant to get mental illness help
