Perfectly Imperfect | Authors Note

The intention behind the start-up of this blog was neither as a means to vilify any of those mentioned nor to bring attention to myself or my family, but so that those reading can use this as a means of self-reflection and perhaps, in some way, right the wrongs of their own history.

 Just recently I was reprimanded for writing on aspects relating to those closest to me. I don’t blame them though. Perhaps they find my obtrusion a means of airing dirty laundry best left unwashed.

So, in an attempt of clarification for all those who have chosen to read this, whatever your reason, I hope that this blog reaches out to you as intentioned. Apparently certain family members are using this as resource, to further perpetuate their gossip induced meet ups, and this disgusts me.

This is my story, that certain people are mentioned only signifies the symbolism of their contribution to my life. To those who have misconstrued the aims of this blog, I’d like to remind you that the harshness of reality is prevalent in the lives of every single one of us. Avoidance isn't the solution.

I maintain that the objective of ‘dodging dad’ is merely to share an experience rife with societal expectations, indoctrinated ideals and social wrongs that are dominant in every demographic regardless of colour or race, so that they may be brought to the forefront and combatted.

My disapproval for dogmatism is openly evident and I simply smirk at any mention of this being a rebellious stance.

As I had previously mentioned here, this blog allows me to share my story, my experiences and even my imperfections with you. Writing it has brought back a surge of memories. Whilst most are memories that serve as a reminder of who I was, the childhood that brought me here today, there are some memories I had buried deep under.

This may read as a vendetta fuelled attempt to besmirch my father (and all those mentioned), when in fact this is far from the truth. Life, unaccustomed to those who living under a seemingly unblemished rock, is filled with oddity.

Each of us are faced with stumbling blocks, at varying points of our lives, mines was my father. For the most part of our lives we feign a beau ideal, maintaining a façade that has nothing to do with the torment that belies our smiles. How this assists in rectifying our perceptions and creating a space for lack of judgement if essentially up to us.

I don’t wear my despair on my face, therefore writing has always bode well for me. For those who are too narrow-minded to see beyond the eccentricity’s, I apologize.