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But not the one you think we have _Content warning: this story contains references to suicide, including methods of suicide the author has considered in the past._ Did you know that guns are

hardly ever used to defend the gun owner? Wayne LaPierre’s claim that good guys with guns stop bad guys with guns is pretty much bullshit. In fact, for every single self-defense killing,

there are two accidental gun deaths. For every single self-defense killing, there are 34 criminal homicides. AND FOR EVERY SINGLE SELF-DEFENSE KILLING, THERE ARE 78 SUICIDES. The person who

dies by gun suicide might not be the gun owner. It might be their spouse, their child, a family friend, a child’s friend. The truth is that gun-owners _and their families_ are more likely to

die by suicide than non-gun-owners. Why would that be? It’s kind of like when an interviewer asked George Mallory, “Why did you want to climb Mount Everest?” His answer: “Because it’s

there.” The gun is there; this easy access to a gun makes a suicide more likely. Some gun suicides are the result of impulsivity. Something triggers the idea, the gun is there, and that’s

the end of the story. So think again about buying or keeping that gun. You may think you know what depression is, but please allow me to tell you a little bit about it. BEAR WITH ME; I WILL

GET BACK TO GUNS IN A MINUTE. I have suffered periodically from Major Depressive Disorder since I was an adolescent. But since I appear “normal” and happy, it’s easy to disregard my story.

Maybe you can’t believe I could have ever been that depressed, and you write me off as a nice lady who has been a little down sometimes. _Please pay attention to me now._ When I am in the

midst of clinical depression (not now), my brain is not working properly. The serotonin in my brain is not adequate to transmit electrical impulses across the synapses between nerve cells.

This results in a kind of mental static, and my thoughts are irrational. When I am depressed, I hate myself. I find myself useless and disgusting. I descend into a horrible black pit where

everything is bleak and hopeless. You cannot reason with me. My life, however privileged or smart or lucky I might be in reality, seems dismal. I am desperate. I can see no good in

continuing to live. You cannot imagine the unbearable emotional pain I am in when I’m depressed. Really, you can’t. _When I am well, I can hardly imagine it myself._ And when my brain is

malfunctioning like that, I am sure the pain will last forever. So I think the only way to stop the pain is to kill myself. I have planned to kill myself many times over the decades. I

considered taking pills. Of course, if I took pills and changed my mind, I could always induce vomiting or call 911. I have considered carbon monoxide. Of course, if I started to do this and

changed my mind, I could run outside and breathe fresh air or I could call 911 if I thought I had inhaled too much exhaust. I have considered cutting myself deeply. Of course, if I did this

and changed my mind, I would still have some time to call 911. I have considered crashing my car. Of course, if I tried this and changed my mind I could jerk the steering wheel to direct my

car to a safer spot. I have considered going to go to my father’s house to get _his _gun and kill myself. Of course, if I started driving to my father’s house and changed my mind, I could

just turn around and go back home. _And people mostly never knew I was making these plans._ I put on my happy face, continued with my daily activities, and looked “normal.” I am grateful

that I never had immediate access to a gun. Easy access to a gun would probably have been fatal. _Once I pulled the trigger there would be no changing my mind. I would just be dead._

However, even as sick as I have been, in this country that does not support mentally ill people I am one of the lucky ones. I have had everything I needed to survive Major Depression: a

loving and loyal husband, a supportive daughter, parents who understood depression, medicine to correct my brain’s functioning, social supports, gifted therapists, a smart psychiatrist,

health insurance, the Family and Medical Leave Act, a strong willingness to confront my demons, _AND NO ACCESS TO A GUN._ What can we do to end this easy access to lethal weapons? I have a

few ideas. * If you have any guns in your house, sell or destroy them. You never know whose life you might save. _I own guns myself. I inherited some rare guns from my father; they were very

important to him. These guns are now safely away from me, in the locked big-ass gun safe of a gun collecting friend. He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to give him the guns because I

know they are just as important to him as they were to my father._ * If you don’t have any guns, don’t buy any. If you think you need them for self-defense, remember that they are far more

likely to kill someone you love. * Institute a mandatory, nationwide three-day waiting period between the time someone applies to buy a gun and the time they are allowed to buy the gun. This

would discourage impulsive suicides. * Educate gunshop owners about signs to look for, like somebody asking for a tiny bit of ammunition or starting to cry after being asked a few

questions. * Require anybody who wants to buy a gun to take a course about gun handling and usage, and present a signed certificate from an approved provider, before they can get a gun.

This, too, would discourage impulsive suicides. If you think the Second Amendment allows you to have any kind of gun at any time, or if you think you need guns to protect yourself from the

government, I’m not going to argue with you. Go away. Here are the resources where I got some of my information, and they are worth reading: From the Harvard School of Public Health (sorry,

I can’t get this embed to work): https://www.hsph.harvard.edu/magazine/magazine_article/guns-suicide/ And may God bless you and keep you. _Note: if this sounds familiar to another story I

wrote, it is. The previous story was banned by Medium._