Diary of an Exile
It’s been twenty business days since I asked Quebec’s Youth Protection for a full copy of my file; I have not seen a single page.
It’s clear to me that H.S. and the rest of the Direction de Protection de la Jeunesse has no interest in the children in her care; only about creating and controlling the narrative around the story.
The book cover is coming along, but it’s an unremarkable process of emails between me and my cover artist, with various in-process sketches. I mean, the picture is going to be amazing, and Em is pouring herself into the work…but until I have a visual to show you, we have no common frame of reference to discuss matters.
But being a father alienated by a massive bureaucratic machine…I’ve got to start talking about it, now, before I get my hands on the file because if I don’t I fear the pain of it all may kill me.
And this is one place that my kids might actually still be able to hear from me.
My sons hate me; and Obi-Wan and Luke have cause, I will admit that. Not because of anything I did or said to them…but apparently my ex-wife doesn’t understand the concept of keeping private texts private. More on that later; probably in another post.
In 2022, I wanted to take my kids to Montreal ComicCon. And while telling me to my face that they supported it, in their files and conversations with my ex wife, M, the first social worker the DPJ put on this joke of a case, to make sure that under no circumstances were they going to let that happen. When I found out the truth and threw it in M’s face, she didn’t even do anything other than sneer angrily; that “How DARE you catch me lying to you?” look that some entitled women manage to generate.
Knowing my weakest point is the fact that I’m broke, they only agreed to let me go if I paid out of pocket for everything, myself. The kids wanted to cosplay, I was going to be cosplaying, so I had to buy their costumes out of pocket. My sister helped me, because she could see what they were trying to do, and knew I couldn’t afford to help the kids half as much as I wanted to.
I got to take them to ComicCon. The next year would be the last year I would see them, and I would never get to take them anywhere, ever again.
I’ll get into the role I’ve played and how the DPJ used it to crate a feedback loop of emotional blackmail that ultimately caused me to have a nervous breakdown. Right now, I’ve written about as much as I can stomach, today.
Before I finish, though, I want to tell Obi, Leia and Luke how much I miss you, how much I love you, and miss you. I won’t stop trying to reach you, but if you don’t want to have me in your lives, I will accept that. I am going to try, here, in this space, to explain what happened. And once I have the documentation, I’m going to expose what they did to me, what they did to our family.
I will love you forever and ever without breaking, and I hope and pray all day every day that the time before we see each other again is shorter than I fear.
