A call for help for those facing mental illness

Dan Lukasik is still investigating the circumstances of his brother’s death. Paul Lukasik died less than two years ago in a Lackawanna hotel room at the age of 58. Police found six empty vials of crack cocaine, and Dunn said toxicology tests showed the presence of fentanyl, which he believes killed his brother.

After reading it, Dunn said that no matter what image you develop of Paul’s life, it doesn’t capture even a fraction of the kind of person he was.

There was no pain, no what could have been, no love, no light when he was well.

Mr Dunn, 63, said of the manner in which Paul died: “I couldn’t let this be my last impression of my brother.”

That mission was a central part of Dunn’s collaboration with documentary maker and filmmaker Mark Anthony Deras, whom Dunn first met at a Williamsville Starbucks.

Their handshake led to the less than 20-minute film My Brother Lost in Time: A Journey into Bipolar Disorder, in which Deras tells the story of two people facing lifelong mental illness. It chronicles the often tense love between brothers and offers messages such as: An urgent message to families in distress.

“They are not alone,” Dunn said.

If you need help right now, whether you’re feeling overwhelmed with mental illness or trying to support a hurting family member, call Erie County’s Crisis Services 24-hour hotline at 716-834-3131 Please, he said. Or 988 national disaster lifelines.

Providing such a pathway is another major purpose of the film, which made its television debut on PBS shortly after screening to a packed crowd at the University at Buffalo last month.

At 11 a.m. Sunday, a time chosen to avoid conflict with the monumental Buffalo-Kansas City football game, Dan and Paul, the youngest of five, often sat side by side. It will be re-performed at North Park Theatre. The movie side of my childhood.

That’s before they move to an old Newfane farmhouse, which becomes their almost dreamlike base in the film. Newfane is where Dan remembers running on trails and playing outdoors with his brother, who is three years younger than him, and describes him as fearless.

But Newfane also had an alcoholic and abusive father, traumatized by combat in World War II, who routinely scolded his wife and sometimes gave his children “belts” as a prelude to caning. It is also strongly intertwined with Dan’s memory of telling him to “smell the scent.”

“If my dad came home and didn’t like what he made for dinner, he would throw the food out on the front lawn,” Dunn said.

Dan’s coping mechanism was escape. It meant immersing myself in schoolwork and wandering around in the woods for hours. He said researchers believe that childhood trauma can be a risk factor for young people facing mental illness, and they suspect that was the case for Paul.

All he knows is that one day when Paul was a teenager, his mother jumped out of a car. She said her son was threatening her life and ran into a Newfane tavern.

This was Paul’s first journey into psychiatric treatment, which was repeated over nearly half a century and earned him a graduate degree. He became a consultant in vocational rehabilitation and achieved a series of great successes. At the time of his death, he owned a lakefront home in Buffalo.

That same man can quickly melt into a heartbreaking struggle. “He’s going to break down,” Dunn said. They say they “heard it coming” in conversation with sudden jerks and awkward swings.

Soon Paul was saying he was being chased by Satan or the FBI. At times, she accused Dunn and other family members of plotting to ruin her life.

However, the brothers never lost touch. Shortly before Paul died, there was a heated exchange in which Dan tried to tell Paul it was okay to ask for help. He said he understands that he too has lived with similar struggles.

With the frightening clarity of a genius mind overcome by mental illness, Paul directly counters that it is Dan who needs treatment, and that it is Dan who cannot see the truth of the world. did.

As Dan talked about it this week, tears welled up in his eyes.

He is a successful lawyer, husband and father in Buffalo. He remembers how his life had changed at the age of 40, and how he was overcome with despair and apathy that even he couldn’t define until his doctor told him:

“You have major depression.”

Looking back, he considers himself lucky. His profession gave him two tools to deal with his illness: time and resources. He took some time off from work, sought skilled help that led to medication, and ultimately found his way back to health.

That experience developed into a lasting purpose. Dan wrote an article about his experience in TRIAL magazine in 2007, provoking an emotional response, citing the prevalence of depression among lawyers and how they are often afraid to admit it. Ta.

For many years he has coordinated support groups for lawyers dealing with depression. He serves as the Wellness Coordinator for the New York State Administrative Court, providing mental health programs throughout the state.

He has also launched websites and blogs such as: buffalo depression projecttrying to reach out to people who need help.

“What I remember more than anything is the loneliness,” Dunn said. “And I promised myself that if I succeeded, I would make sure no one ever felt that alone again.”

That thought always leads him to Paul.

In 2023, Dan was driving across the South Grand Island Bridge when police called him. He remembers a sense of disbelief and the helplessness of an eight-year-old child. “My little brother died.”

He goes to Paul’s empty house and walks through a hurricane of utter confusion, confusion, and tells the story of a life consumed by suffering.

Dan believes Paul took his own life. Whether it was a conscious choice or not is largely irrelevant, Dunn says. Paul was a smart man. He knew exactly what a mix of crack and fentanyl would do.

The film is being screened and promoted at local venues thanks to a $30,000 grant from the Patrick P. Lee Foundation through Crisis Services. Jane Mogavelo, executive director of the foundation, said chairman and founder Lee understands “the difficulties of people living with mental illness” through his close family experience.

This goal aligns with Dan Lukasik’s. It will provide support to exhausted families and increase public and private investment in mental health care and treatment.

Deras, a filmmaker, has produced documentary work throughout the United States. He said he had faced “significant mental health challenges” himself in the past and felt an immediate respect for Dan Lukasik.

He said the film is truly a “road movie,” chronicling the journey and ultimate crossroads of two brothers who love each other dearly. At that crossroads, Dan will spend the rest of his life wondering if he had a choice. Some treatment could have saved Paul’s life.

Celia Spacone, a psychologist who coordinates the Erie County Suicide Prevention Coalition, appears throughout the film. According to US News and World ReportsAmerica’s suicide rate in 2022 is “the highest in decades” and 30% higher than the suicide rate in 2002, another imperative for everyone involved in Lukasik’s project.

“The main message of this film is that it doesn’t have to end like this,” said Ms. Spaccone, highlighting the obvious truth about what she describes as a national crisis in mental health.

“Hope is the only antidote.”

Dan Lukasik had a dream just before the first screening. He turned back into a child and lay in bed. As Paul used to do, his younger brother was sleeping next to him. It seemed as real as it did 60 years ago. Dan could feel his brother’s warmth and presence so much that he reached out his arm to pull Paul closer.

At that moment, Dan woke up empty handed.

It was all about what he had lost to mental illness and what he hoped to save us with this film.