Barrieland: Am I Losing It?

Picking up where we left off from Barrieland: Home Alone (Part 5).

Disclaimer: This is Part 5 in a Series. Please read the Full Disclosure Disclaimer on Part 1 before proceeding.

And then, if you haven’t read them yet, please read the previous posts before continuing to gain full context:

  1. Barrieland Part 1
  2. Barrieland Part 2
  3. Barrieland Part 3
  4. Barrieland Part 4
  5. Barrieland Part 5
  6. Barrieland Part 6 (You are here).

Because of how quickly a lot of these events happened, some of these more “minor” conversations don’t have any sort of date associated with them. I wasn’t writing down much of what was happening, and I did in fact wait until after I leave my Barrie apartment before I reached out to police about all of these issues; and in that, I did it in what might be considered an incorrect way which I’ll explain later.

For now, before I continue further I’m going to reiterate a little PSA that I think’s important to this story.

If you suspect someone is being abused, please contact your local police authorities as soon as you feel it is safe to do so. You can do this either by filling out a form online (assuming your police department is anything like the York Regional Police Department or the Barrie/Simcoe County Police Department) or by going into any police station and filing a report with a uniformed officer.

More About My Neighbours

While it was very much my intention to get to know people in Barrie as I got more comfortable in my new space, the reality is that I never at any point reached a level of comfort that allowed me to do that.

As I stated before I very quickly had issues with the tenants upstairs and I made the decision early on to try and keep as much distance from them as possible.

I spoke to the neighbour that lived to our immediate left exactly twice, and both encounters were brief.

The neighbours to my left (and I’m speaking as though you are looking at my house from the street) had a few people that lived there.

There were a couple of people that lived in the basement suite that I never formally met but would later see often outside.

There was a man and a woman who lived upstairs on the main level. The woman, I never spoke to, but I did see her semi-often tending to her plants on her back balcony, and on 1 occasion I overheard her speaking, or rather, trying to speak to, the little girl that lived above me. As soon as the little girl turned her attention to something else, the woman made her quick escape back inside; Relatable.

The man that lived with her is who I spoke to. Sometime early on when I first moved in, he stepped outside for a cigarette on his balcony at the same time that I was literally blowing weed smoke out of my bong out my front door. He noticed this and we sort of had a quick hello.

Some time after this I also passed him briefly as he walked out of his house and was taking care of his recycling. He said hello, and I the same.

I never met or spoke to the people who lived to the right of our house; this was almost exclusively my “neighbourly interaction” for some time. I would frequently see this man while walking the trails in the morning behind my house. He didn’t normally say hello, but he would sometimes look up and see me with Dakota and smile before carrying on with his business. I assumed he was a pretty chill dude who kept to himself, kinda like me.

And very unlike my other neighbours.

A few weeks into being in Barrieland I went for a walk on my own, and as I was walking down my street I noticed a large family outside on their driveway; they appeared to be celebrating something and several kids were also outside. This encounter happened a fair while after I suspected I was at bare minimum being watched in my apartment, and definitely suspected people were entering my home without my consent as I spoke about in the previous part of this series.

What I noticed about this family on this day was that most of the adults sitting in lawn chairs on the driveway appeared to be drunk. A man on the sidewalk was with 2 of the young kids and they had drawn in some sort of hop-scotch on the sidewalk in chalk. The man was doing something silly on a bicycle for the kids amusement. I noticed this, and a woman in black noticed me looking in their direction as I approached. Now, the reason I also suspected these adults, including this woman in particular were very drunk, is when she noticed me she immediately looked right at me, pointed a finger at me, and audibly began laughing very loudly.

It was the kind of interaction that made me think for a moment that somehow this woman knew me from somewhere, or had seen me doing something.

She laughed the entire way as I walked passed their house and even pointed me out to the other adults.

I mention this interaction because it would be a short while later that I’d notice the children who lived above me also sometimes spent time here.

The children above me also seemed to spend a fair bit of time at another house on our street, a couple doors down from us in the other direction but on the same side as our house (in fact, both of these neighbours houses were on our side of the street). I saw the little girl over there one day and often times she’d be in a bathing suit in the front yard.

In the days leading up to me ultimately leaving Barrie, I noticed another strange neighbour on my street who also lived on our side of the street. When I was up early one day as I often was and had gone for a walk in their direction (meaning, I stepped out of my house and turned left), there was a man who appeared to be trying to get the window open to a car on the street, using a long wire like one would do if they locked their keys in the vehicle.

As I passed him, I asked the obvious question: Locked your keys in the car?

Nothing to see here, Miss, please move along.

The man looked at me and laughed which is when I noticed he was missing nearly all of his teeth, and he in some fashion replied: Yeah.

I didn’t believe him, but I wasn’t out doing rounds to stop car thefts at this point, but of course, the reason I audibly asked the question was so that the man who otherwise had his back turned to me at this point, knew I noticed what he was doing.

The day after this encounter with this man, as I woke up and once again was heading in that direction, I kid you not he was doing it again. The same car.

Me, sarcastically: Lock your keys in the car again?

The man, laughing, with no teeth: Ha, yeah, yeah…

Me, sarcastically: Gotta be more careful about that I guess, right?

The man, laughing: Ha, yeah.. yeah..

I mentioned already that I already suspected the people above me did meth and that was further reinforced by another conversation I had with the pink-haired boy.

The boy: My mom is getting all of her teeth redone.

Me: Oh?

The boy: Yeah.

I didn’t ask for more information. At this point I assumed most people on Hawthorne Crescent did some crazy drugs.

Because I walked Dakota early around the same time in the mornings, there were a handful of other people I’d see with some regularity.

There was a man who walked a shaggy dog in the woods who would speak to me often, mostly about our dogs.

There was another man who often looked quite sad walking a very little dog who lived in the apartment complex nearby; I often wondered if he was recently divorced or widowed and was left with his partners little dog since they seemed an odd match, but he very much took care of this little thing. We didn’t talk often but the more I saw him the more I’d try to be friendly, usually saying something about the little dog.

There was another older man who I believe also lived in the same complex, skinny guy who would usually walk his dog down the short path that lead to the woods by the mailboxes, and he’d usually be smoking a cigarette while his little dog did its business. This man acknowledged me a few times as well, and I think he may have also been responsible for the garbage can that would be brought to the mailboxes one day after I intentionally left a bag of dog poop by them. For the record, I of course went back and picked up the dog poop, but Dakota had started an annoying habit of pooping just after we left the house before we entered the woods and I was getting tired of carrying dog shit all over the woods and back home again. There are very few garbage and recycling bins in this part of Barrieland.

In the woods there was another dog-guy I’d see often who frankly sketched me the hell out. He had an Australian Shepard, which for those of you that don’t know are insanely intelligent animals. The thing I found sketchy about this guy is he walked incredibly fast through the woods (it’s just not common to do that in forests, especially with an animal), but also, every time he and the dog noticed a person walking their way, this man would immediately turn around and speed-walk in the other direction. He’d sometimes turn around several times within a short distance if it was a busier day in the woods, almost in an irate way. I surmised that he was either a dog trainer training this Shepard to avoid people for… reasons, or he himself was a total sketch bag. After witnessing this for weeks, one day I tried to follow him; but this dude walks FAST. I lost him quick.

I recognize this makes me sound like a sketch bag, too, for doing it, but I really wanted to know what his deal was.

Speaking of being in the woods, there were a couple other strange things I noticed in there on my many walks too.

Woodsy Stuff

One day while Dakota and I wandered around, I decided to make an effort to keep the forest cleaner. A lot of people would leave garbage and recycling in there, and I had learned that this particular forest was maintained by volunteers; volunteers who clearly didn’t have the time to check it with the frequency in which I was there.

When I was picking up some bottles one day, I noticed a strange one. It was like a Gatorade bottle but without the label on it and it had a stick through it. It looked as though someone had used a sharp object (perhaps a stick) to puncture through the bottom of the plastic. And again, this is like a Gatorade bottle, which means you have to use some serious force.

This struck me as strange because this type of behaviour has been known to be linked to what can become, for lack of a better way of phrasing, violent people. I picked up the bottle with my own hands and instantly regretted it, but tweeted about it anyways in case any Simcoe County officers were for some reason reading my tweets. I have a picture of this somewhere but it’s like almost 3AM EST as I write this right now so I’ll add pictures in later if I can’t find them right away.

On another walk with Dakota exploring the trails I also just happened to notice that some of the trails were clearly not “true” trails, they have been made obviously by people on foot as opposed to people using ATV’s/Golf Cart’s as I had seen in the forest previously. There’s one area of this forest in particular which rests on a bit of a hillside where the trails weave in an out, back and fourth, and in such a way that it’s very easy to get lost in them or find yourself walking and re-walking the same trails. If you’re not paying attention, you can definitely get lost here for quite some time.

These trails are also used by cyclists and hikers alike, but it’s clear that that path in particular was for walkers. And, what struck me about it as particularly odd later on is that it rests behind a “No Trespassing” sign. Seemed to me someone had created it and then placed the sign in the forest to give them “jurisdiction” to “prosecute” trespassers who otherwise would have had no idea that this was now apparently private property. I came back here a few times to check these trails out further, noting where I’d have to run if someone tried to abduct me from here.

And I’m not paranoid, thank you very much, but on one of my very first walks in the forest I noticed suspicious looking people “surveying” the forest. They weren’t in any way dressed like people who walk in the woods regularly and they were off trail, pointing out I’m not sure what, to each other. A couple days after this as I took Dakota for our normal morning walk on the very-well established part of the trail, a blonde woman actually also approached me to talk to Dakota and I and while she did so mentioned to me, “Hey, be extra careful if you’re headed (the way she came), there are some weird looking guys walking around that look like they’re up to something”. I explained to her I was new to the area and thanked her for the heads up, and she reiterated, “Yeah, just be careful, sometimes there are people like that in here.” She was clearly from the area but I never saw her in the forest again after this.

“Would you like to come in for some out of this world home cookin’?”
No thank you, sir, or ma’am.

“Friendly” Woodsy Encounters

While in Barrie, aside from during The Great Gypsy Moth Caterpillar Infestation of 2021 when the trail was virtually unusable for weeks, I started having some more encounters that seem worth mentioning here; these happened closer to when I was leaving Barrieland for good.

The first is a man who would ride his bike on the trail on the main pathways; he was a bit of a heavier build and had a dog who would follow him while he rode (well trained). This guy was pretty nice, and we spoke for a bit the first time we met in the woods. Later, I’d find him a little more strange as he seemed to increase the frequency in which he both cycled passed my house in the woods and also would stop to talk to Dakota and I; I’d be friendly, but also make it pretty clear I wasn’t interested in the conversation. He seemed harmless enough, but I definitely wasn’t looking for visitors.

Speaking on that, then there was Beau.

While sitting in my backyard one day with Dakota as usual, a tall man in a white t-shirt walked over to the fence after his dog had approached it to sniff Dakota through the fence holes. The man struck up a conversation and seemed really comfortable doing so.

As I write this I actually can’t remember if that was the first time I talked to this man, or if our first interaction happened on the trail itself. Beau would frequently walked past my house on the trail with his dog over the course of a couple days (not every day, but my point is these days were not spread out much).

When we met on the trail, I happened to be walking in one direction that Beau and his dog were also walking, so we spoke a bit as I “joined them” on their walk.

Beau told me his name and I gave him his, and he told me his dog was named Cash.

I found both of these names he gave me strange and frankly didn’t believe him for a second.

Beau did something that always strikes me as odd when it happens when I’m first speaking to people; he began telling me about his life in pretty thorough detail. Within a couple minutes of meeting Beau I learned several things: he lived in the “Mack” apartment buildings (I didn’t know where those were but didn’t ask), he smoked weed and seemed to want to try and smoke with me (but I ignored his comments about weed, I had quit by then), Cash loved the woods and he’d let him run off-leash, Beau was from British Columbia but also had a place on the East Coast too, he was divorced with kids but also had a girlfriend, his places were right on the ocean, as though he was enticing me to them, and he had done some cliff diving before. I didn’t tell Beau much about myself other than as he knew I had Dakota and I, too, had once jumped from a cliff in Muskoka that was not a very tall cliff. When we reached a fork in the trail, I used it as my opportunity to abandon ship and told Beau I was headed in that direction. Beau would later revisit my fence 3-4 times in the same day and again, mention that he was heading home to smoke a little weed, as though to entice me.

Beau and Cash are very sketchy. Especially Cash.

What the fuck are you up to, Cash?

Beau didn’t stop trying to visit me until the day my Aunt stopped by to give me my Grandmother’s old storage chest. While we were outside talking by my steps, Beau and Cash came by the fence for what was then the 3rd time that day and I had already been trying to avoid him. My aunt noticed him and I told her, quite loudly, “This is Beau and Cash”. I think Beau thought this might’ve been my mother and he never returned after this; I recommend this technique to any and all women who have sketchy visitors at their backyard fence.

There were other neighbours who would come by the fence often to see Dakota but those encounters are mostly insignificant except for the fact that they made me feel like I had absolutely no privacy, and these people if dangerous could hop the fence at any time, and sometimes these people would hand treats to Dakota without my consent. I’d keep a keen eye on the backyard every time I was home, which is why I also often sat in my kitchen in plain view so people always knew I was home.

What’s That Sound? What’s That… Light?

Aside from all of that, there were still strange things happening in my home itself.

I mentioned previously that I noticed phoenix connectors in the ceiling panels and wall panels and I mention them again here because these are commonly used for audio equipment. If my upstairs tenants were not reading my tweets, they were undoubtedly listening to me through some sort of audio recording device or speaker.

“What do you think she’s laughing about now?” – my neighbours, probably.

The outlets in my apartment were also strange. At various points throughout the day, these otherwise seemingly totally normal wall outlets would flick on a red light, making an audible clicking sound in the process.

It was not at all unlike when my Furbo would click on a red light around 9PM in my King City home, which is also why I sold my Furbo after moving out of that place.

At times I’d notice this even in areas I would not expect, like while walking down the hallway where there was no outlet.

And, at this same time, I was regularly noticing my work laptop behaving strangely in that it seemed someone was connecting to it remotely; text dialog boxes popping up and running script; something I mentioned to both OsgoodePD – York Universities IT Manager and former friend Paul W, and also my then manager, Rene A.

I’ll get into this part more though on my York University blog post; I don’t want to derail from the main parts of this otherwise far more important story.

I’d mention the lights/sounds/clicking to my landlord at various stages but he seemed to imply the house just, made noises, or otherwise didn’t know what I was talking about.

“Sometimes, it just looks like people have been in your apartment Jaimee. Trust me, I’m a doctor”.

When I started to become irritated by my landlord, I would mention these things in more obscure ways, sometimes just to see what he would say, to see if he was paying attention.

And to be clear, I wasn’t doing this to be funny or something; I was genuinely in fear of my life at this stage and felt like he was actively avoiding the issues I presented to him from the get-go. I also knew with certainty at this point people had been entering my home and moving things around including moving things in and out of my fridge which made me skeptical of even opening the diet pops I stored there; so again, yeah, maybe I sound a little “paranoid” here, or maybe I’m smarter than a 5’6 blonde girl looks.

Pictured: Me.
Which one?
Which one do you think?

He also seemed to consistently take the side of my upstairs tenant which annoyed me if for no other reason than this was supposed to be my friend of 15 years.

I’m going to share some more text message exchanged with you now and do my best to explain them, because some of the messages also appear out of context and at times the language gets uncomfortable.

Yet Another Disclaimer: I mention rape in these text messages, so if you’re uncomfortable with the topic, I’d stop reading now and pick up on the next part of this series and as a general rule, don’t listen to Nirvana.

But before I go into the text messages it’s also important for me to try and explain one more thing I’ve mentioned about my upstairs tenants: they were almost definitely trying to drug me, but to what end I don’t know.

I say this because while I’d be in my apartment minding my own business, I’d start to notice changes in my body that were not my own doing; things like, I’d get very tired, I’d begin to get very dehydrated, at times I’d fall into a sudden case of the giggles the persisted hours (I’d often leave my home for air when these things occurred which would dissipate the symptoms), and I started feeling just…. off, and I’d become a little “speedier” if you will as I worked through my hilarious tweet-fests, which is normally when I’d start to feel so anxious and uncomfortable in my own home and skin that I’d leave my apartment.

Often times, the symptoms wouldn’t truly start occurring until later in the evening, post-6PM or so. At one point I legitimately thought, and on some level still do, that the upstairs tenants were filtering something through the vents which was causing this for me.

And on other occasions, when they’d provide me with food I didn’t ask for, if I tried a little, I’d notice symptoms then, too. Fortunately neither Dakota nor I ever consumed more than a bite or two of these meals and so the symptoms went away quickly again normally after a long walk for air and a significant amount of water.

She’d send me things like this after telling me she was a Lesbian. We were never friends, and for the record I hate when people who don’t know me (or even many that do) call me hun, beautiful, sweetie or otherwise; I threw this meal out and then left a note for Rhonda also in red sharpie saying thanks for it, because I’m polite, but this woman is batshit insane.

On to the text messages.

In particular most of these messages that get “more weird” are from June 25th, 2021, an evening where after spending a bit of time in my apartment with Dakota I was very much experiencing the symptoms I describe above: anxiety, a little sketched out, starting to get very dehydrated, needing air, and later late that evening I would call 911 for a medic.

For further context, I escaped Barrieland mid-July.

We’ll start around the June 20th mark, which is where I had all but entirely lost any and all faith and trust in my now former friend, former landlord Skippy.

Often times when Mark and I talked around this time, it was basic conversations like this one, often about the weather although I personally can’t stand talking about it.

“Pressure Cooker” – Crooked Forest, off of A Quiet Place To Scream (2020).

Mark was constantly telling me how beautiful it was over in British Columbia, and for us in Barrie, Ontario, we were experiencing a ton of rain, wind, and general cold which doesn’t mesh with me well (I am a summer child).

This text message exchange is important because the comment where Mark says, “I guess it’s nice to have your own place” is one that he said several times both over speaking on the phone and over text message, and it was making me realize that this dude clearly could not tell when I was being sarcastic and very clearly was not hearing me when I said I was uncomfortable in this Barrieland apartment. I’d often not respond to his messages (just like you see above) because the fact of the matter between Mark’s “Friendship” and I in recent years is that we barely had one.

Once Mark was off to McGill U, he set his sights on better, cooler friends and just never made time for those of us who stayed in Ontario in any sort of meaningful way. But since I don’t personally need to talk to my friends on a daily basis like some do, this was normal for me to keep him part of my own social circle – plus, I found his life fascinating in the strangest ways (see also, all my other stories about Mark in previous parts of this story).

So as I mentioned on the days I suspected I was being drugged in some way, it would start to hit around 6PM but usually well after. This day it was clearly around 6PM EST.

At this point of my Barrieland adventure, I was both sick and tired of dealing with the upstairs tenants and the city as a whole that I had had enough. I knew with certainty I needed to get myself out as soon as possible, but I was also rightly pissed right off.

When I say: Do you know something I don’t know? You were a cop, right?

What I mean: Hey Mark, I’ve been telling you about a ton of situations in which I suspect the upstairs tenants are doing something insanely illegal and you don’t seem to give a single shit about any of it, so maybe you’re in on it?

When I say: How does my dog know me better than all my friends?

What I mean: Dakota is a great judge of character, and when he’s uncomfortable around someone, I know they’re bad news. He’s very smart as well, and as I’ve mentioned before, I both knew people were coming into my apartment while Dakota was home alone and I knew Dakota was beginning to behave differently; lethargic at times, super anxious at others (like the symptoms I describe for myself).

When I say: Why am I really here mark, you pushed me into being here

What I mean: Literally that. I suspected Mark had pushed me into being into this apartment for his own gain from the beginning, but the longer I stayed the less I trusted him and thought he was up to something awful. I believe he coerced me into being in this apartment and now, I wanted answers.

When I say: You know what is going on

What I mean: I had told Mark repeatedly about many issues and I wasn’t buying his “I don’t know what you’re talking about” schtick at this stage of the game.

However, I think this is an important additional mini story to mention here.

When I spoke to Mark on the phone one day about the upstairs tenants, specifically when we spoke about if he understood what it meant for a light to be on a house all day long, I also asked him if he was still taking medication.

At the risk of saying something too personal, Mark has been on medication for depression for several years now and at times this medication, or his prior brand, has made him suicidal. He works through this with his psychiatrist so I never ask many questions and in fact I’d consider it out of character for me to even ask if he was still on it, although Mark was always quite open about the fact that he took pills for this.

In this phone conversation, Mark quickly said in response: Yeah, and I think it affects me memory.

I replied: Well you should probably stop taking it then.

Medication definitely helps some people but if you ask me it’s not a cure-all and it’s certainly not something meant to be taken for life. But again, I’m not a doctor, I just have strong opinions about this; I personally don’t take any medication, never have taken anything more than a Tylenol or Advil for a headache (and even then, water is more effective), and believe most things are best managed by proper diet, exercise, and when necessary, therapy.

When I say: Do you know Paul Wye?

What I mean: Paul Wye was actually sat at the same table as Mark at my wedding in June 2018, so I know they met.

When I say: You two act so alike

What I mean: Again, I was having at this point several issues with my employer at OsgoodePD – York University, of which Paul Wye is a manager, and a former friend of mine. I didn’t know or suspect at the time that the two issues were related (my apartment issues, and my work issues) but there was a Zoom call in which Paul wanted to ask me a personal question and in doing so he brought up a Google Maps image and had me pin point where my house was. And by “had me pin point” I mean I offered up that information outright willingly, but he had said he was in a forest area right near my house and wanted a better sense of my neighbourhood; Again, I thought we were friends and Paul had said he and his partner and boys were in the area recently and he wanted to know if it would be okay for him to visit me sometime. Of course I said he could.

I mention that Paul Wye and Mark, are so alike because they literally are. Many times while working with Paul his mannerisms and the way he spoke are near identical to Mark’s. And since at this stage I didn’t trust Mark, I was very much not trusting Paul either.

Now, this next message is very important you all read my explanation.

When I say: He was at my wedding don’t you remember what happened that day?

What I mean: I’m literally testing Mark’s memory. They met, for sure.

When I say: Do you know he raped me?

What I mean: This message is actually incredibly out of context and I would never in any way shape or form accuse Paul Wye of raping me. We were good friends for many years and he has never in any way put his hands on me.

During one of these evenings where I suspected I’d been drugged, I’d sometimes message Mark in what were VERY rapid text exchanges. That message, to the best of my recollection, is from an entirely different exchange or at bare minimum fell in between other messages it shouldn’t have.

Again; Paul Wye has never laid a hand on me and if for whatever reason he has ever been reprimanded for doing something to me, it is a terrible, terrible mistake. I would never ever accuse a man/woman/otherwise of doing this unless I firmly believed he had done so. I take rape accusations VERY seriously.

This is actually pretty clear if you then read the following messages that came after it.

Mark and I were speaking about a different person.

When I say: I never had sex with him on my wedding night. I never loved him and in retrospect I never trusted him.

What I mean: I am speaking about my ex-husband and this is true. We never had sex on our wedding night, or frankly, through most of our marriage at all.

When I say: He’s not the only one.

What I mean: This again is an out of context message that has fallen somewhere it shouldn’t have, or, I was simply so angry and typing so quickly that even I wrote this out poorly (shocking, I know).

I have been sexually assaulted before. I suspect drugs were involved. I have been in otherwise awful situations that were sexual in nature that I wanted no part in.

This is why I take consent very seriously.

When I say: Do you know what I’m talking about now?

What I mean: I’m genuinely asking if Mark thinks I’m an idiot or if he understands now that I don’t trust him.

When I say: Hello?

What I mean: Where did you go, dip shit?

When I say: You’re trained in suicide prevention yes?

What I mean: How can someone with years of experience as former police officer not take the things I had told him about (the threats from my upstairs tenants for example) seriously, and I genuinely wasn’t sure if he actually received suicide prevention training in any point of his former York Region police training, but since he had worked for the McGill crisis centre (or whatever) I assumed he had. Since I had taken a course in noticing the warning signs of suicide in order to prevent suicide last year (December 2020) I thought he’d take my concerns more seriously than he had up until this point. This was a last ditch effort to tell Mark I was “onto him” and pissed off at his complete disregard for my personal safety.

Once again, I am not nor have I ever been suicidal.

When I say: Do you think I’m a good actor or do you think I am just so fucking depressed I can’t take it anymore

What I mean: The amount of times Mark had in his own weird way told me I could “leave the apartment any time I wanted to” and that he “knows cops in the area still” made me incredibly suspicious of his character. In so many of our conversations I felt like he wasn’t speaking to me like a friend.

In this text message, I am “acting” erratic on purpose. There were often loud sex noises occurring above me when I’d speak to Mark in this way. This was my discrete way of saying there was a problem, but not necessarily with me, except for when I bring up the allergies and cats a little while later.

I went for a walk a short while after this to cool down my “suicidal thoughts”. This is a joke; again, I’m seriously not in any way suicidal and the more people keep suggesting it, the more annoyed I get about it, so this is how I handle it now.

Later that day I evening (not much later) I received a phone call from a number I didn’t know; this for the record, is most numbers that were coming to me at this time. I almost never speak on the phone, and when I do it’s with someone in my very limited contact book.

This was happening to me with intense frequency, receiving calls from obscure numbers, sometimes from places like Guyana, Texas, Boston, and of course Barrie and other Canadian cities, too.

I typically don’t answer these calls and instead let them run to voicemail.

When I listened back to this voicemail, it sounded like a white man impersonating a brown man and in a creepy clown-like tone said: Jaimee, I’m coming to get you.

Another threat, or at bare minimum, another harassing phone call that I was now sick of and legitimately scared to answer my phone after this point again.

Whenever Mark would suggest Taylor come by to visit me, I also found this very weird and it make me insanely uncomfortable. I did not know Taylor nor was he a friend, I met him at this point in my life a total of 3 times.

I started avoiding Mark again for a brief time while I collected my thoughts.

When I say: Don’t usually get these* from Barrie

What I mean: I’m talking about a phone call I got from a Barrie-area 705 number. I sent Mark a screenshot of the number above.

When I say: It happened at Jukasa I’m certain of that now

What I mean: Again these messages in many instances happened on a pretty weird day so the context is lost a little and confusing to follow because my own thoughts were swirling with everything going on at the time. I had previously told Mark I had weird nightmares and in those nightmares I’d be raped or in fear of being raped. This, I suspect, is normal for someone like me who has had a history of sexual assault/assaults generally speaking.

This is what this message is referring to:

At Jukasa Recording Studio, on the last night I was there producing/recording a record for Aukland, we stayed in the Jukasa apartments and I shared a bed – to sleep in only – with lead guitarist Jeff who was a friend of mine. On this night, I had a rape nightmare that left me in a daze through the entire next day of tracking; this is something even lead singer Sean noticed and commented on later that day, noting how exhausted I was and that I seemed like, late in the day I “didn’t wan’t to be there”.

He was right. I was exhausted. I had worked my ass off on that record, and I didn’t sleep well that night. It was late, and we still had a 2+ hour drive back to Mississauga from Jukasa ahead of us (I drove Sean home) before I then had to drive back from Mississauga to Vaughan, and this recording session was a weekend one sandwiched in between my full-time job. So, yeah, maybe I was a little tired.

For the record, I have had terrible nightmares since I was a small girl. When I quit drinking and quit smoking weed, these nightmares came back. Not every day, but when they’re particularly bad I wake up in a cold sweat because they are that intense. I am not afraid of these nightmares and I know why I have them. I have some level of knowledge about Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder and I know my mental health is in good shape.

When I say: I don’t drink on jobs like that

What I mean: The boys had many drinks during the recording of the full-length Aukland debut album, especially for the recording of “Stumble” a song about, well, drinking.

I had a beer or two but nothing more. I know I can’t perform well as soon as I start drinking so I almost never drink anything at all when I’m engineering/producing. This session was no exception. I mention this to reiterate that my mental health is in good shape and my memory is sharp as hell. I remember virtually every part of those sessions.

Now, before proceeding I’m going to ask you all to take note of the message that followed all of that from Mark, someone who is supposed to be my friend.

Can any of you make sense of what that means in this context?

When I say: Why would I hate you?

What I mean: I am legit confused as hell. I have no idea what he means here.

I end up going for a walk and then when I come back from that walk, something even stranger happens;

There are two Barrie police officers waiting for me outside on the back patio in full uniform, and they’ve been through my apartment while I’ve been gone.

You’ll note my next message to Mark is at 10:42PM EST on this same day. I was trying to be polite here and not raise any further flags, because after my visit with the police officers, I definitely didn’t trust this kid. They never said that he sent them, and I didn’t think that at all at the time, but in a bit we’ll get to some later-text messages where Skippy basically admits it outright; He called cops to “check on me”, and those cops entered my home without my consent and without explaining why they were there and why they went through my place before I got home.

And, yeah, I ended up going to a hospital later that evening/early the next morning, which I’ll get into shortly in Part 7 of this incredibly stupid saga.

But before I get into that, because it’s really a whole thing that merits a lot of time and attention and includes some videos I need to upload, I need to share some more text messages with you all that were part of this whole strange ordeal.

I am sharing these to once again show that I have absolutely nothing to hide and have been of sound mind this entire year; my old landlord, I’m not so sure can say the same.

This is a continuation of those first messages above. I was going to add this in in order but I don’t want to convolute the most important messages which I believe are all at the beginning stages of this post.

This text message is important because as the weather got better, I was spending more time out of the house and have a few stories to share about my Barrie cycling adventures later on.

This text message where I mention the lights was not the first time I mentioned this to Mark, at least not to my best recollection. Again, we had many conversations by phone as well, but I’ll also say, I had been sharing these concerns with other people so, it’s I guess also possible I hadn’t gotten around to telling Mark, but that seems odd to me given how forthright I had otherwise been with everything else in the apartment with him up until this point.

I often repeat things to the same people to see if they notice or remember that we’d talked about it before, especially when I was dealing with the very strange text messages from Rhonda who seemed to have a terrible memory.

When I say: My left hand just started seizing up.

What I mean: Literally. It was seizing up and tingling. This was on a day I suspected something was coming through the vents, and was also a day Rhonda had provided me with a home-cooked meal.

Here I’m describing very real symptoms to Mark that I had been experiencing on a variety of occasions.

I had just gotten home and these symptoms came on quickly on this day.

These messages should really be self explanatory; This was really happening. I was feeling like total shit and wanted to leave.

I don’t know why Mark gets so weird about weed but I can tell you for sure, I had already quit smoking it and the symptoms I was experiencing were not like anything I had experienced before, which is why I also mentioned the cats again. When Mark was “laughing” at these messages, I was getting super pissed off.

Mark has never been one to smoke weed and the way he talks about it makes me believe he really never has; instead I think he’s read about the potential for paranoid/anxious thoughts and doesn’t understand that I used weed because it mellowed me out further. The opposite effect.

Here I am quite literally fucking around with him.

If you have ever smoked weed you know that sometimes it dries out your eyes, that’s what I meant by it affecting my vision.

I was also getting irate because I certainly didn’t need “Dr. Mark” explaining to me, a 30 year old woman who regularly smoked weed for years, what it does to one’s body.

And again here, I am mentioning that even Dakota was acting strange after having some of Rhonda’s meal.

I feel like I shouldn’t have to explain why reading Mark’s subsequent messages annoyed the hell out of me.

Mark seemed to not understand that Rhonda and James at bare minimum also smoked weed and had cats, both of which I have now expressed are harmful to me. His “well they shouldn’t be inside” is a very stupid thing to say to the downstairs tenant who at this point had a pretty damn good idea of how these people were spending their days and would regularly see their weed containers and alcohol in the yard.

When I say: I just had a sharp pain in my leg. And I’m really cold. Shivering

What I mean: I did! I had a sharp pain; This happens sometimes after intense workouts. And I was suddenly freezing! Of course, I was inside my apartment, the apartment below Rhonda and James who ran the A/C 24 hours a day 7 days a week on full blast and I had spent the day outside in 40 degree heat. Of course, Mark did not ask me any questions that would have led to me saying these things, but I really felt like they were implied given our previous conversations.

When I say: I’m going out now.

What I mean: I went for a walk.

When I say: I’d like to move out

What I mean: I’d like to move out

When I say: I’m definintely not calling the hospital or paramedics

What I mean: I genuinely did not believe I needed one IN THIS moment.

When I say: I already asked so I know it’s fine I just don’t know if they’re avail right now

What I mean: I had already had a number of conversations with my dad about getting out of this situation (see also, the time I had him pick up Dakota and take him to the cottage). My family all work real jobs and so cannot always drop what they’re doing on a whim; I did not feel I was in immediate danger and knew I would call them the next day to arrange to move out of this apartment when it made sense to do so (read: when I could use my dads car, or rent a Uhaul). I do not typically call or message my family late at night, and by late at night I mean like, anytime after 6PM frankly.

Here I found it real fucking weird that Mark was so adamant about Jodie coming to get me in particular. I have also gone to my dad in situations like this, and also, I didn’t understand why he thought she had all the time in the world to just again, drop what she was doing for me. That may be how it works in the Skippy family, but it’s not how it works for me.

I was very “over” Mark at this stage.

When I say: Can I defer my rent this month? Need the money the rent a car

What I mean: Exactly that. Mark had previously told me he had deferred rent for the upstairs tenants, and so I was a little stunned when it would not afford me the same opportunity.

I was running low on cash fast (at the time of writing this part, I have approximately $2300CAD to my name, using sparingly now to pay my phone bill and minimum credit card payments since losing my job at Osgoode PD – York U, effective July 9th, 2021 – if anyone can offer me employment, I am all ears and will travel anywhere to do it).

I also didn’t appreciate Mark’s follow up nosy comments.

I did not respond immediately.

Coming up later today, Barrieland Part 7; my encounter with the Simcoe County Police Department, Simcoe County Ambulance crew, and the 3AM visit to RVH hospital in Barrie, Ontario that ended with me taking video of a man being taken down by police in the hospital parking lot, and me walking home after not being seen by any sort of legitimate medical professional.

Continue reading with Barrieland: Hello, I’d Like to Speak to a Medical Professional (Part 7).

9 thoughts on “Barrieland: Am I Losing It?

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