Bobbie, why don’t you try to be happy? Bobbie, just don’t think about the past.
I’ve tried lots of things in my life to get over the past.
Pinpointing what has gone wrong in my life isn’t really all that simple. I wish that it was. Maybe that one thing that went wrong, I could get therapy for and then everything would be fine.
But it’s not just one little thing here, or one little thing there.
It’s an avalanche of things.
And it wouldn’t be so bad if these were things of my creation.
But they weren’t.
These were things that were gifted to me even though no one in their right mind would want these gifts.
Captain Father Angus McRae created a monster with P.S., and I have absolutely no doubt that it would have been Captain Father Angus McRae, in his role as base padre, that was recommending his very special altar boy to help out with families in need. Families like mine.
According to the court mail transcripts and the CFSIU investigation paperwork, the Canadian Armed Forces knew full well what had happened on that base from 1978 to 1980. And yet instead of helping out the abused children, the Canadian Forces circled the wagons.
The Canadian Armed Forces needed to get rid of Captain McRae with the least amount of publicity possible.
There is no way that the Canadian Forces were going to allow the Canadian public to discover that an officer of the Canadian Armed Forces had preyed upon and abused the children of junior rank personnel. And there was no way that the Canadian Forces were going to allow the Canadian public to know that Captain McRae had molested children on previous bases that he had been stationed at.
In 2020 when the MPCC released its final report of the 2nd portion of CFNIS GO 2011-5754, the MPCC stated that they couldn’t see how I could accuse the Canadian Forces of trying to hide what Captain McRae had done. Well, the simple fact is that there were over 25 children abused by Captain McRae no doubt with assistance from his altar boy P.S.. The military police and the CFSIU were well aware that Captain McRae was abusing more children that just P.S.. The court martial panel was well aware. But all Captain McRae was charged with was for abusing P.S.. The court martial was moved “in-camera” to protect “public morals”.
Now, it’s not like my father didn’t know. He knew. I became his scapegoat for anything that went wrong with my brother. I think that’s the reason I despised my brother so much when we were kids. Richard couldn’t and wouldn’t take responsibility for his family. So instead of raising my brother the way any decent father would have, he made me responsible for my brother.
Me, a kid who had already been found to be suffering from major depression and severe anxiety. Me, a kid who was terrified of being touched. Me, a kid who was so emotionally disturbed at the time that by the time Alberta Social Services became involved was supposed to be sent to a psychiatric hospital for emotionally disturbed children.
Explains why my brother and I had such an intense sibling rivalry that we had to constantly be sent to separate schools.
Captain Terry Totzke knew. But instead of helping me with the trauma I had been through, and helping me with my depression and my anxiety, he decided that what I really needed was to work on not being a homosexual.
It really didn’t help that the Canadian Forces considered what Captain McRae had done with children between 5 to 15 as being “Acts of Homosexuality”. We all got tarred by that brush.
So not only was I not a victim that endured 1-1/2 years of childhood sexual abuse and a neglectful home life with a frequently absent father and an alcoholic grandmother. Instead I was a homosexual that enjoyed the abuse so much that I allowed, nay, encouraged P.S. to molest my brother.
In the aftermath of CFB Namao I tried suicide so many times, but I could never pull it off. You can’t go through what I did on CFB Namao and not want to kill yourself. My father was blaming me for what happened. Captain Terry Totzke was blaming me for what happened. The kids from CFB Namao and CFB Griesbach were tormenting me with what happened.
When you have severe depression and severe anxiety, you tend to cry and break down. Crying or just being sad was a trigger for Richard. So at home I would get all of the negative reinforcement that a child with major depression and severe anxiety should never have been exposed to. It was like a horrific negative feedback loop. The more I’d cry, the more backhands or belts I’d get, which would in turn result in more crying, which would result in more hits.
At the time, I had no idea of what the fuck was wrong with me. Why I was such a fuck up. Why I was such a loser. Why I couldn’t do anything right. Why I had no friends.
You honestly have no idea how badly I wanted to die. Or how many times I’d cry myself to sleep.
I used to suffer from frequent episodes of “derealization”. This is where, and it’s still hard for me to explain, but it was like I wasn’t myself, but I was watching myself like I was a movie or TV character, like I was seeing through the character’s eyes. And this shit used to creep me out. It turns out that “derealiztion” happens with sexual abuse, physical abuse, and neglect. All of which I had in spades.
There was a reason why my father told the Children’s Aid Society of Toronto that the involvement of Alberta Social Services was unwarranted.
And there’s a reason why my father kept telling Alberta Social Service that there wasn’t anything wrong with me.
Richard Gill knew what the problem was.
I had caused the problem by being a homosexual and by allowing P.S. to molest my younger brother.
That’s why neither Captain Totzke or my father followed through with any type of help for me from October of 1980 until November of 1981. And that is also why Captain Totzke and my father were at war with Alberta Social Services after my school teacher and school principal called Alberta Social Services in due to Totzke’s lack of action. I didn’t need help. I just needed to stop being a homosexual.
So, it wasn’t just that I had been abused sexually, physically, and mentally by P.S. and Captain McRae for 1-1/2 years on CFB Namao. I also spent 2-1/2 years being psychologically abused by Captain Terry Totzke and my father Master Corporal Richard Wayne Gill on CFB Griesbach. On Canadian Forces Base Downsview things never got any better between my father and I. In fact they spiralled down the shitter at an even faster rate.
And then there was Earl Ray Stevens. The commissionaire at the Denison Armouries who took the one thing that I really loved away from me. That was cadets. It was the only thing I cared about. But Earl could sense, like most pedophiles can sense, an abused child from a dysfunctional home. Even worse, Earl knew right from the start that my father was in the Canadian Forces and that I’d do anything to keep “our secret” a secret so that the military police and my father wouldn’t find out. Being that Earl was in the Canadian Corp of Commissionaires it’s a pretty good chance that Earl was in the Canadian Armed Forces prior to retiring and joining the Commissionaires. So I have no doubt that Earl would have had abused kids living on base, and Earl knew that abused military dependents keep their mouths shut, especially if they’re males.
So it’s not that I’m a loser, or a quitter.
I’m burnt out.
And I’d like to go.
There is absolutely nothing holding me here.
And this isn’t a rash decision.
This is something that I’ve been pondering since the early 2000s when I first heard of people in Europe requesting medical suicide not for terminal medical conditions, but for depression.
Up until Canada passed its law, I had always wondered if I could save up enough money for a one way trip and go to sleep in a nice touristy town in Europe.
Now I don’t have to.
I can receive medical assistance in dying right here.
I wish there was a way to fix my brain, but there isn’t.
I don’t want electroconvulsive therapy, I don’t want mind altering drugs.
It’s not a matter of being unwilling, it that I’m not someone’s “fix-it” project.
Captain Terry Totzke and my father both taught me that “head shrinkers” are useless and cause nothing but trouble.
My father taught me the fine art of telling people what they want to hear.
And this shit is burnt so deep into my brain that it’s not going to be fixed.
And no, I don’t want to learn how to “cope”. I’ve had a lifetime of coping. Coping doesn’t do anything except ensure that you don’t upset others with your personal traumas.
I don’t believe in the afterlife. I don’t believe in heaven or hell.
There will be no punishment.
There will be no regret.
What there will be is the cessation of existence.
You can only suffer and carry regret and be in pain when you exist.