Baby Octopuses, AA Meetings and a Kewpie Doll on a Stick
No human being is entirely good or entirely bad and my father was no exception to this. Amidst attempted abductions, over a decade of stalking, countless Domestic Violence Orders, alcohol induced rages, bitter custody battles, supervised visitations at contact centres and terrifying untreated mental illness, was the man who did not once hesitate to order seafood pizzas for me, all the while knowing I would eat nothing, but the teensy-weensy baby octopuses off them. Beneath the outward portrayal of toughness was the dad who took his children to Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) meetings and church so we could see he was trying. Masked by the facade of a performance he had mentally cast himself in as "Father of the Year", was the manic yes-man, in all his grandiose glory, who saw no problem with allowing his son to ride in the boot of the car at his request to, nor with doing doughnuts and burn-outs in the middle of public parks—never mind the blood noses from our faces const