Sorry, I'm not a gun owner, but believe me, I've considered it many times. Next time I'm up for it, at least I know who to ask for encouragement.

Honestly, if I told you some of the shit I've been through first hand, experienced second hand through my ex (she went through the kind of abuse that makes headlines and resulted in her being placed in foster care at 16, a few weeks before her father blew his head off with a shotgun) and she got through it by turning off all her emotions, faking everything, suppressing her rage and hiding it from all but those closest to her (me), and creating a perfect facade that allowed her to put herself through school, and currently she is an M.D. Phd instructor at a top tier medical school. She's the type that would laugh at you with contempt, and tell you that you're such a victim (she did it to me any time I ever needed help). My childhood wasn't that great either, started with a bloody nose the first day, threatened by a kid with a makeshift glass knife, surround by 4 others. I would go home, ask dad for advice, and he would grab me by the shirt, and demonstrate (at least he didn't hit me, but came close during a few of those demonstrations) how to deal with it. But, that wasn't so bad. Watching mom drink herself into a coma every night sucked. They had a few fights during that period, and mom apparently ran into a door knob a couple of times. My mom's previous husband was constantly in trouble for abusing her, and she at one point had to jump out of a moving car with my brother in her arms because he was drunk and driving like a maniac. She also had another child when she was raped at age 15, and in those days, men weren't charged, my mom was blamed, boys will be boys, and she spent Christmas in the psych ward and remained there until she came to term. When she had me, she had health problems, and the doctors said abort (sorry about that, she chose to have me), and as a result, I've lived my life knowing that she suffered immense pain (part of what drove her to drink) due to her decision to have me. So, basically, I know that I am lucky, and am grateful. It's part of why I let my ex abuse me so much. I made a promise that I would save my mom, and I failed, so I decided to make my ex my project, and just let her walk all over me, because I didn't really think I had a right to my own life.

I guess the fun part of my childhood was when I finally learned to flip my switch. I think it happened in 3rd grade. That's when I learned to defend myself from bullies by literally swapping personalities and going into a psychotic rage. Over the years, I stabbed a kid with a protractor, pushed another kid through a glass window, bashed a lot of heads into concrete, but because I was normally pretty tolerant, it usually took a year or two of bullying before I would snap. Good times.

Anyway, the marriage was a lot of fun. My ex was only physically threatening, but never abused me. She did hold her fist up to my face a few times, but generally would just yell so loud my ears would ring. When my mom was dying, my ex was having trouble faking the role of concerned girlfriend, because, as I said before, I now realize that she doesn't feel genuine emotions, only rage and envy, beneath a veneer of kindness. When her rage and envy (of my relationship with my mother) made her start to crack, she told me, and convinced me, I was the problem. That my distress at watching mom die was due to anxiety. So, she gave me ativan for the funeral, and I was stoned out of my mind and couldn't feel a thing. I guess she liked the result, because 2 weeks after I put my mom in the ground, she said I should get help for "depression", you know, that sad feeling you get when you bury your mother, yeah, apparently that's depression. Since she wasn't offering support, and I was desperate for relief, I actually was diagnosed (they aren't supposed to do that until 6 weeks after a major life event), and was put on multiple meds. With the encouragment of my ex, I spent most of the last 10 years under a haze of psych meds. After a couple of years of unsuccessful treatment (finding the right balance between being an emotional punching bag at home and a great programmer at work is difficult), she met my psychiatrist, and after ranting about me for an hour, I'll never forget the end of that session. She broke her demeanor, smiled and glared at my ex, and said, "Maybe that's the only time he every gets any relief." This was in response to my ex saying, "He even drinks a beer or two after he takes his ambien!!". So, my ex decided she didn't like her, and I was confused about why my psychd thought that it was ok, but now realize, she was talking to my ex, and basically saying she was the problem.

So, I saw a different psychiatrist, and same story. I would try to figure out what was wrong with me. We'd chase one diagnosis, then the next. But, the problem was, nothing worked. The reason is, I needed to be two different people. I needed to direct and write large software projects at work, and then be a pushover at home. Meds that made the ex happy pissed off my employer, and vice versa. Then my ex came to a session to explain "my issues". Again, he was unimpressed, kept his composure, but later told me that he thought she had very narcissistic tendencies (after I filed for divorce, wish he would have said something earlier). Basically, I had to end it. My ex was getting so abusive that I was worried she would trigger me. I haven't been in a fight in a 20 years, and it takes a ton of abuse to bring that out of me, when I sensed it coming, I left. I rarely get hostile unless it's the internet, and in real life I roll with the punches. But, it got so bad that I basically checked myself in to the inpatient unit to get away from her (with her encouragement actually, since clearly everything was my fault). First words out of my psychiatrist's mouth, "What the hell are you doing here?" I actually had to talk him in to letting me stay 5 days instead of 3, because I just wanted to be away from her. The last two years of therapy, post divorce, has literally been spent "un" diagnosing myself. Any time I go in and say, "Yeah, I think there's something really wrong with me, he basically says, nope, that's pretty normal." My ex had trained me so well to think of myself at fault, that it has taken years to unfuck my mind.

Then there's the sexual abuse, but I won't go into that, and dealing with my aunt's (like a 2nd mom) suicide at age 43. (Good news, depression runs in my family, and I've seriously considered killing myself this year after being completely fucked by the divorce process (hard to argue a case when your ex is a physician and just says you are crazy, despite the fact that I earned 70% of our income for 10 years and was left with a mountain of debt and next to nothing), so if I need encouragement, I'll let you know, thanks.) And, my dad, had the kind of anger management issues that made him terrifying. Even when he was trying to help me, he was a second away from punching me. I feel amazed that the worst he did was throw me around and slap me a few times (oh and the belt, but that was normal back then). But, he did teach me one lesson, by example, because he still blames his life on his childhood at 75, and when I left that house, I made up my mind that I would never allow my past to be an excuse. It's a lesson you would be wise to learn, "Only losers blame their current life circumstances on their childhood or past events." I don't make excuses, I don't parade my story (look at my comments, you won't find much), and I don't allow bad shit to become an excuse for failure. Grow up and take responsibility for the things you CAN control. I haven't even told you half the shit I went through, and you know what, it doesn't fucking matter, because each day, when I get out of bed, I am the one who is responsible for my fate. And, for the love of god, develop some reading comprehension, I didn't blame women for abusing men. I told you a fact, that 62% of altercations are started by the woman. That doesn't excuse an over-the-top "defense" by the man, nor does it deny that 38% don't start it.

Patrick Stewart? Did you read the fucking bio I've linked a billion times? https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Erin_Pizzey

That woman, is THE person that started the women's shelter movement, and you ignore what she has to say, and I'm supposed to read Patrick Stewart? Seriously? I mean, I will, because I like the guy, but in terms of actually understanding the problem, don't you think the WOMAN that started the entire concept of women's shelters in the 1970's, knows more than you about this shit?