The follow-through made the difference
Danny Muckle says social navigator officer gives him ‘sense of responsibility and purpose’
Danny Muckle has been surrounded by addiction, substance use and mental illness all his life.
In recounting his childhood, he says his dad sold drugs, and that there was always drinking and drugs in the house. His mom was constantly in jail or hospital because of addiction and mental illness. His older brothers raised him and, in turn, he parented a younger brother. Many family members have schizophrenia or other forms of mental illness that cause psychosis.
“Growing up, I didn’t realize that wasn’t an average home,” the 27year-old said, sitting in the YMCA men’s residence on James Street South.
Muckle recently got out of detox and is living at the men’s residence while he works, with the help of the social navigator program, to get his life back on track. He’s feeling more confident, but also anxious about relapsing.
He started drinking at the age of eight and was an alcoholic by 10. He got in fights at school; got himself suspended so he could go home and drink.
At the time, he thought it was a way to connect with his older brothers. Now he recognizes it as the beginning of his alcoholism.
His dad didn’t seem to care or notice, he said. If he was to add up all the time his mom was at home, Muckle estimates it was six months of his life.
She died by suicide in 2004 — Muckle found her and still has flashbacks during occasional psychotic episodes.
Muckle was born in Hamilton. His family lived on their First Nation reserve — Wabaseemoong — near Kenora, Ont. From the time Muckle was age 10 to 18, he was in foster care. Now he is estranged from most family.
Muckle worked as a welder for National Steel Car when he was 19. But that job — just like his schooling, his relationships and a handful of apartments — was lost because of addiction.
Muckle met Sgt. Pete Wiesner when Wiesner was the Hamilton police social navigator program officer. Wiesner is now the co-ordinator of the crisis response unit, which includes the social navigator.
At that time, Muckle was sleeping on a bench near the Salvation Army.
“I considered it my home,” Muckle said. He would get kicked out of the shelter for being drunk and sleep on the bench.
Someone must have complained, because the city stepped in to remove the bench and Muckle, intoxicated, was fighting it. Wiesner arrested Muckle, but didn’t charge him.
After that, Wiesner would check in on Muckle, but he wasn’t ready yet to join the social navigator program. That happened when he phoned
Wiesner a couple of months ago.
Muckle reached a breaking point recently after five people he knows died of alcoholism and drink.
Muckle said he would drink from the moment he woke to the moment he passed out. He had tremors, withdrawal and seizures.
“The reason I called Pete, he’s the only person who was actually willing to help,” Muckle said. He’s had others try to help him before, but nobody who would stick with him.
Now Muckle knows if he doesn’t show up to an appointment, Wiesner is going to come find him. Wiesner got him into detox, connected him with mental-health services, helped him find a family doctor. He has a job lined up for when he’s more stable and he recently began volunteering at the Hub, a drop-in program behind the Salvation Army.
“He’s given me a little bit more of a sense of responsibility and purpose, as well as a lot more self-reliance,” Muckle said.
Because of depression and alcoholism, the 27-year-old would go days without eating. Now, Wiesner and Muckle talk about healthy eating, and Wiesner drops by with breakfast some days. Muckle is back on his anti-depression and antipsychotic medication. He plans to return to trade school and hopes to move out of the YMCA.
His relationship with Wiesner is unlike any other he’s had with a
Muckle said he would drink from the moment he woke to the moment he passed out. He had tremors, withdrawal and seizures.
police officer.
Muckle said he wants more people to know about the social navigator program. He had heard of it before, but didn’t know how much it could help.
“It’s completely different for a police officer being willing to help me instead of throwing some cuffs on me and letting me sit in a cell,” he said.