My brother, Duncan, committed suicide today. Our brother, Earl, found him in his home with a gun at his feet and a hole in his heart. He was 59 years old. He had battled depression for years, and he had it under control up until a month ago. Duncan had done all the right things—he saw a psychiatrist, he talked to counselors, he took his medication, exercised, and ate right. He loved us and we loved him.
Depression is like a house that you’re trapped in. All the doors are boarded, and all the windows are sealed shut. But if you have enough energy, enough meds, enough support, you can break down the door or crack the window. But the other thing you need is time. Time to gather your strength. Time to take a deep breath.
Time was not what he was given; he was able to purchase a handgun and shoot himself. He had tried before with a shotgun, but his hand could not reach the trigger. I do not want thoughts and prayers I want votes.