An interesting one.

Where do you see yourself in 10 years?

Where do I see myself in 10 years.

Hopefully not alive.

I truly and honestly cannot keep going on with this.

When Medical Assistance in Dying for mental health reasons becomes available on March 17th, 2027 I intend to be one of the first applicants.

Of course there’s still the chance that the disabled rights groups in this country will hijacked by the far right conservatives and manipulated to take to the streets in a thinly veiled astroturf campaign to stop the government from forcing the disabled to undergo M.A.i.D. in order to save costs.

The irony about the far right using the disabled is that the far right have never cared about this disabled, the marginalized, or the impoverished.

I’m tired.

Considering what I’ve gone through in this life, if I want to die in order to put an end to the daily misery and the overwhelming pointlessness, that should be a choice that I’m allowed to make.

And being as smart as I am is a double edged sword.

Sure, it’s kept me from a life of drugs on the street, but it’s also masked my suffering. People don’t see my daily suffering. They just see what I can do and they choose to ignore what I’ve gone through or what I am going through.

Justice?

“It was a different time back then”

“There were different mindsets”

“People’s attitudes were different”

Even in the modern day government entities such as the Department of Justice are trying to deal with me using the prevailing attitudes of the day from back then.

“The Canadian Forces are not responsible for the illegal activities of their service members”

“Military dependents such as spouses and children live in the military housing on military bases solely at their own risk”

From what I’ve seen of the Department of Justice both in my interactions with the DOJ in Federal Court in 2013 and my current day interactions with the DOJ, truth and justice are the least of their concerns. Their goal is to dodge and deflect and keep the government of Canada from owning up to the messes the National Defence Act created on military bases across Canada.

The DOJ knows from the records that I submitted in 2013 painted the 2011 CFNIS investigation into my complaints against the babysitter as a very flawed investigation, but the DOJ fought me tooth and nail.

Even after the Military Police Complaints Commission confirmed in 2019 that the CFNIS had in its possession the 1980 CFSIU investigation paperwork and the 1980 Courts Martial transcripts that confirmed that the military police, the CFSIU, Captain McRae commanding officer, and the Courts Martial panel all knew that it was the actions of the babysitter molesting younger children living on base that eventually brought Captain McRae to the attention of the CFSIU, the DOJ still wants to lean heavily upon the 2011 CFNIS investigation.

Am I going to stick it out with the DOJ until a settlement is reached?

I can’t see that happening.

Will a settlement bring closure?

Definitely not.

There is no dollar figure that will undo the suffering that I have endured over the last 45 years. The suffering has festered and metastasized. And you can sure as hell bet that as part of any settlement the DND and the DOJ will require very strict NDAs to be signed and the settlement, if reached, will portray the DND as having been very shocked and concerned about this one time anomaly in the military justice system.

And people want me to move on and just get over it?

Imagine being sexually abused so badly that within 2 years of the abuse ending you’re supposed to be locked up in a psychiatric hospital for emotionally disturbed children.

Imagine your father and your military social worker conspiring to move you from one jurisdiction in Canada to another jurisdiction in Canada to avoid your apprehension by social services. An apprehension that is being driven by the concerns of social services of your father’s anger issues and your safety within your father’s house.

Major Depression.

Severe Anxiety.

Haphephobia.

Sure, my father’s anger and my father’s temper and my father’s physical abuse helped me to learn how to mask this shit, but it’s alive and well.

Politicians?

Dr. Hedy Fry, the MP for Vancouver Centre absolutely refuses to become involved in my matter stating that “there are no military bases in the riding of Vancouver Centre”.

Avi Lewis, the candidate for the NDP in Vancouver Centre has no opinion on child sexual abuse in the Canadian Armed Forces or Medical Assistance in Dying. Or at least I don’t know if he does as I’ve never heard from him after filling out a memo form at his constituency office on Hornby St. near my dentist.

Health Care professionals

Even my current nurse practitioner is beginning to cause me to have some concern. When I first started seeing him around 2021 he assured me that he would be willing to help me apply for M.A.i.D. in 2023 and 2024.

In recent conversation though I feel that his questions seemed to be geared toward me having been “cured” with the escitalopram and the hormone therapy.

The escitalopram just takes the edge off the depression and the anxiety. I still wake up various times every night grinding my teeth. The depression is still there as I can sleep for days on end with absolutely no desire to get out of bed.

Hobbies?

Nothing appeals to me.

In 2015 I made contact with my babysitter <P.S.> and his father <J.S.>. It was actually <J.S.> that I spoke to first.

<J.S.> loved his son. <J.S.> needed his son.

The fact that <P.S.> sexually abused children on CFB Namao, CFB Petawawa, CFB Winnipeg, and CFB Namao again didn’t phase <J.S.> nor did the fact that <P.S.> continued to molest children well after the DND and the CAF kicked <P.S.> out of the military housing in 1985. None of this mattered to <J.S.>. He blamed the military for what had happened to his son. His son would have been fine if the military had looked after him.

My father? Yeah, Richard died in January of 2017 never acknowledging that he was wrong for having blamed me for “fucking with is military career”. Richard never apologized for having blamed me for “allowing the babysitter to molest Scott”. And Richard never did apologize for not protecting me from the desires of the Canadian Armed Forces and the malpractice of Captain Terry Totzke.

Media?

Except for a very few stories, no one gives a shit.

I had always thought that a story like mine, a story where I lay out how the documented flaws in the pre-1998 National Defence Act have such a horrific impact on modern day CFNIS investigations into past events on Canadian Forces Bases in Canada.

The media often ask “but Bobbie, if this was happening, where are all of the other victims? Surely you’re not the only one who got abused on the bases”. This is usually accompanied by massive eye rolling on the reporter’s behalf.

I myself would never have gone on a deep dive like I did except for when master corporal Christian Cyr opened his trap on May 3rd, 2011 and told me about Captain Father Angus McRae’s involvement in this matter.

I don’t know why Cyr did this. Master corporal Robert John Hancock was more discreet during our interview at VPD headquarters in March of 2011. He didn’t come out and blurt anything about McRae, he just kept asking over and over again “if there was anything else I wanted to talk about, anything the might be connected to this matter”.

I guess the problem with Cyr was that when he was handed the file he must have concluded that I was a money grubber just out to make a quick buck or two off the military so he decided that he wasn’t going to mince words and he was going to let me know point blank that he knew the truth about 1980 and that I was scamming the military.

What he probably didn’t anticipate is that due to the use of alcohol, I have no memories of what occurred at the base chapel after I was given the “sickly sweet grape juice”, and he probably didn’t anticipate the internet providing me with access to the lawsuit between my babysitter and the DOJ from back in 2001 when my former babysitter sued the Minister of National Defence for his abuse at the hands of Captain McRae.

If master corporal Christian Cyr had just kept his fucking mouth shut I never would have gone digging into the whole captain father Angus McRae matter on CFB Namao, which never would have led to me obtaining my social service records from across Canada, and so on.

If master corporal Christian Cyr had just kept his knowledge of CFSIU DS-120-10-80 and CM 62 to himself, then when the CFNIS told me in November of 2011 that “they just couldn’t find any evidence to indicate that the babysitter was capable of what I accused him of”, I would have left if there.

And I think that in the majority of CFNIS investigation the investigators with the CFNIS are able to keep their cards close and to keep their poker faces on, unlike Cyr. So most victims of military child sexual abuse never get an inkling that the investigation into the complaints was nothing more than a “dog ‘n’ pony show”.

Has the media shown any concern at all that persons who were sexually abused on military bases prior to 1998 are unable to have charges laid against their abusers due to a statute of limitations in the pre-1998 National Defence Act that does not exist for persons who were sexually abused as children by members of the general public?

Nope.

The media couldn’t care less.

I’ve been trying to get the media interested in this story since 2012. 2021 was when I had enough of the facts together to present a story that should have started alarm bells ringing.

Nope.

Absolutely no interest.

Even in 2014, when Macleans was running their series of stories on sexual abuse in the military, not a single bit of interest. Actually, that’s not true, there was some interest, but that interest got dropped due to pressure from Macleans upper mgmt. I was supposed to stop in and have a meeting with Anne Marie Owens, but on the day of the meeting I showed up to Macleans and was told that she suddenly no longer worked at Macleans and that Macleans was now going in a completely different direction and that these stories were no longer an interest to Macleans.

And it’s not just Macleans, pretty well all of the media, including our so called “independent” media.

If you were to listen to the media in this country you’d swear that children never got sexually abused on base, that if they did, the military justice system would make everything right again.

Somehow the military justice system that couldn’t properly investigate rape against female service members was suddenly capable of investigating child sexual abuse?

Somehow the military justice system that failed miserably in Bosnia and Somalia due to chain of command interference was now somehow immune to chain of command influence when children were sexually abused on base?

The same military justice system that was under orders to ignore child sexual abuse committed by Afghan military forces in Afghanistan is suddenly free to investigate historical child sexual abuse on bases in Canada?

You would think that the media would show an interest.

nope.

nada.

zilch.

The usual excuses given by the media are some variation of “we’ve never heard of this before”, “where are all of the victims”, or ” the media spokesperson for DND and the CAF said that children were never sexually abused on base”.

But yeah, back to the original question posed by today’s prompt.

“Where do you see yourself in ten years?”

Dead for eight years and no longer bothered by this warped and twisted existence.

Nothing.

Daily writing prompt
Describe something you learned in high school.

What did I learn in high school?

Absolutely nothing……

I dropped out of school at the start of grade 9. That’s junior high school. I never made it as far as high school.

Had to get out of the PMQ.

1987 was the start of the grade 9 school year for me.

September of 1987 was also two years removed from the summer of 1985.

The summer of 1985 was the last summer that my brother and I spent with our grandmother.

The summer of 1985 was also the summer that my father went on a rampage in the PMQ on CFB Downsview. He did some very significant damage to the PMQ. It took three military police officers to subdue him.

When my brother and I arrived back in Toronto from Edmonton my father was required to notify the base military police of our arrival so that they could come speak with us. When they did come to speak with us they told us that during their investigation they grew very concerned when they couldn’t find us so they started talking to the neighbours and that’s when they started hearing about Richard’s yelling and screaming and his physical abuse. The military police said that if my father ever lost his temper again that we were to flee the house before calling the base switchboard to ask for the military police.

In September of 1985, my father bought me a birthday cake. This blew my fucking socks off as he had never acknowledged a single birthday of mine since 1976, the year before my mother left. Even though he promised to never forget my birthday again, he never acknowledged my birthday again thereafter.

And his temper started to get out of control again by the spring of 1986. He just knew how to hide his outbursts better as he was under supervision of the military.

By the summer of 1987 my brother had graduated to credit card theft, B&Es, and car theft. He had also grown significantly larger than me and he was even physically larger than Richard. Richard could no longer control Scott. And Scott was now running with a group of thugs. Kids who had been in and out of the juvie system.

As Richard had given up on trying to control Scott, he instead turned to lashing out at me for allowing Scott t have been molested by the babysitter on CFB Namao and this is why Scott was acting as violent as he was.

So yeah, by the time September of 1987 rolled around, I had to get the fuck out of the house.

What would really piss me the fuck off is that in the summer of 2011, when I obtained my social service records from across Canada, I would learn that my family was actually under the supervision of the Children’s Aid Society of Toronto from the time we arrived in CFB Downsview in the spring of 1983.

This pissed me off because when I moved out I had to take my employment from part time to full time so that I could afford to rent a place to live.

Had I known about my family having been under the supervision of the Children’s Aid Society of Toronto, I could have applied to CAST for emergency accommodation. I could have even arranged for the courts to make it mandatory for my father to pick up my bills until age 18. Either of these would have allowed me to finish off school while living in a safe environment.

This ought to be easy

Daily writing prompt
Describe a positive thing a family member has done for you.

I honestly can’t think of any family member having done anything positive for me.

And that’s not hyperbole.

My father was a piss tank alcoholic with anger issues.

My grandmother was just as much of a piss tank as my father was. And not only did she have a ton of anger issues, but she was also severely emotionally disturbed.

Can’t say much about my mother other than she didn’t really put up too much of a fight to save my brother and I from being raised by Richard and his alcoholic mother.

Sue? When she moved in with us she promised that she would get grandma to move out and that she would get my father to stop hitting us. Not sure if it was her, but grandma finally moved out in the spring of 1981 after having lived with us since 1977. She not only didn’t stop Richard from hitting my brother and I, but she started hitting us too. And when Richard would go away on training exercises, she’d get really mean.

Uncle Doug? He’s probably the only member of the Gill clan that did anything for my brother and I, but sadly he wasn’t around very often.

My Daily Prompt

Who is the most confident person you know?

The most confident person I know of tends to not have any emotional scars to think of.

They tend not to have ever experienced childhood neglect or abuse.

They were never left wanting for anything as a child.

They tend to have the familial backing to afford to be able to make mistakes.

They also tend to come from the type of privilege that allows their misdeeds overlooked by the justice system.

How do I cope?

Daily writing prompt
What strategies do you use to cope with negative feelings?

Negative feelings are all that I’ve known all of my life.

I honestly don’t think that I’ve ever been free from these negative feelings.

My father was an extremely negative experience in my life.

My grandmother was an extremely negative experience in my life.

My stepmother was a negative experience in my life.

My mother’s absence was a negative experience in my life.

My childhood growing up in a dysfunctional military family living on military bases was a negative experience.

My life while I was under the care of military social worker Captain Terry Totzke was a very negative experience.

Negativity is all that I have ever experienced in my life.

It’s not the feelings of negativity that I have to deal with.

It’s the feelings of normalcy or even the feelings of happiness.

I dread the feelings of normalcy and happiness due to the fact that I know that there will be a spectacular crash into the world of negativity.

The Art of Being Fucked.

Daily writing prompt
What is one word that describes you?

Fucked.

Fucked is the one word that would best describe me.

Maybe forsaken ?

Damaged?

No, I think fucked describes me fairly well.

Especially, fucked in the head.

Fucked beyond all belief.

Fucking damaged.

Fucking depressed.

Fucking tired.

Fucking sick of it all.

Played for a fucking fool.

Taken fucking advantage of.

Yeah, I think “fucked” describes me fairly well.

Another writing prompt.

Daily writing prompt
What activities do you lose yourself in?

I don’t really have any activities that I lose myself in.

I’ve tried over the years to pick up hobbies and interests, but outside of work I really don’t care about anything in particular.

It’s hard to explain to people, and it’s hard for people to understand.

But there isn’t anything in this world that calls to me.

The household that I grew up in was not one that encouraged curiosity or rewarded ingenuity.

Any interest in any subject was seen as stupid, childish, immature.

This is hard for people to understand.

I honestly will never understand why people refuse to believe how toxic some people can be as parents.

My father was a piss tank alcoholic with anger issues.

Worst off, we lived on military bases across Canada. An environment that didn’t concern itself with what went on behind closed doors.

So there aren’t any activities that I lose myself in.

I keep trying different things, but nothing lights that flame.

Dabbled in cars when I was younger. But never really was bitten by the car bug.

Even the time I spent at the base auto club of CFB Downsview gave me the skills for working on cars, but I never had a spark to work on cars.

Got into motorcycle in my 20s. Just never got bitten by the motorcycling bug.

I loved ice skating as a kid. And I frequently skated until the events of CFB Namao. I didn’t skate from 1980 until 2006. In 2006 I was off on a journey, but I happened to pass by the West End community centre. Can’t explain why, but I rented a pair of skates and went for a skate. It was like I had never stopped skating. Skating lasted for about 6 years before depression and dealing with the Canadian Armed Forces made skating impossible.

Over the years I’ve tried to pick up a musical instrument. I can play music mechanically, but it doesn’t evoke anything within. When I play keyboard I have about as much passion as a MIDI sequencer or a roll playing piano.

Computers and electronics. Again, I can work with ’em. I just don’t find anything to like with them.

Am I superstitious?

Daily writing prompt
Are you superstitious?

I can safely say that I am not superstitious.

There’s more than enough evil and malevolence in everyday reality. I don’t need imaginary people and hidden forces to add to the evil that already exists.

I understand the appeal and the allure of superstitions.

Superstitions are the crutch of the human mind. Superstitions explain away random events and make the universe appear more ordered and less chaotic than it really is.

My middle name

Daily writing prompt
What is your middle name? Does it carry any special meaning/significance?

My middle name came courtesy of an office of vital statistics official.

Back in 2008, after the disastrous realization that I was never going to escape the events of Canadian Forces Base Namao and that I was always going to be the “asshole” that fucked with my father’s military career I decided that I wanted to legally change my name.

At the time I had thought that by changing my name that I could sever the past from my future.

Bobbie was always going to be a given. All the nice people from my childhood always called me Robbie or Bobby. The only person who was adamant that my name was Robert was my father. Sue never called me by my nickname either.

And Bobbie was ideal for a few reasons. With my desire to undergo feminization I could switch to the more feminine spelling of Bobby by simply dropping the “e” from the end of Bobbie which would leave me with Bobbi.

I had already found my last name when I was volunteering for the 2008 Vancouver Municipal elections.

When I went in to submit my paperwork with the office of vital statistics I only had my first name and last name. The employee accepting my paperwork asked why I didn’t go with three names to allow me some flexibility in different circumstances.

I had no idea as to what I wanted. I never used my middle birth name. I had no idea of where it came from.

“Why don’t you pick your birthstone?”

Using the primitive “WAP” browser on my cellphone I was able to get a list of birthstones off the internet.

I was born in September.

Sapphire is the birthstone for September.

Bobbie / Bobbi Sapphire is a stripper’s stage name.

I didn’t know what else to do, I didn’t want to leave without filing the paperwork.

It took a lot of courage to go through the criminal record back ground search that would determine if I was eligible to legally change my name or not.

Why did it take courage?

Did I have a criminal record?

Nope.

At that point in my life I was aware of two times that my brother had been arrested and had given the arresting officer my name, my birthdate, and my social insurance number.

I was afraid that if I delayed to pick a middle name that my brother would do something that would have caused the RCMP to revoke my clearance.

I quickly scanned the rest of the birthstones on the list, sounding out the stone with my first name and my last name.

Garnet is what I decided on.

It’s red, and it’s abrasive.

So, Bobbie Garnet Bees is who I became in 2008.

Sadly though, changing my name was not enough to excise the past from my brain.

Every time that I tried to move forward and advance was just met with a chorus of voices from my past.

And at that point in time I wasn’t aware that I had severe and untreated mental illness. Not that the mental illness should have prevented me from changing my name or from seeking feminization. It’s just that the untreated major depression and severe anxiety meant that my daemons are firmly baked into my brain and will be until the day I die.

Do I believe in fate or destiny?

Daily writing prompt
Do you believe in fate/destiny?

Nope.

That was pretty simple.

Death is the only thing in a person’s life that is preordained. The time and manner of said death are a matter of random chance.

Everything else is pure chance.

Yeah, I understand that the human brain has trouble understanding random chance and coincidence, but nothing is preordained.

Now, that’s not to say that other people can’t fuck with a person’s life and cause said person to endure negative effects.

But that’s not due to a supernatural being.

That’s just people fucking other people over.

And humans have fucked over other humans ever since the first human evolved.