Non-fiction

Category: Non-fiction

Writing is a lonely effort. While the raw material for Blamed and Broken came from countless hours spent talking to other people, translating their words into a coherent and undeniable narrative fell solely to me. It was difficult. Not just because the scope of the book spans more than a decade in the lives of so many people. Not because it required a fresh look at thousands of pages of documents that had either been hidden or carted off to archives.

Let’s get this straight – I’ve never been a fan of Valentine’s Day.

I never really liked how it was declared a Hallmark holiday and the singular day of the year that forces people to show the measure of affection towards their partner – or in my case, partners.

So on Feb. 14, we – as a polyamorous V – have something else to celebrate – my husband’s birthday.

My grandmother told a lot of stories. In her 84 years, she’d experienced a lot, and felt a duty of sorts to impart her knowledge learned on anyone who would listen. Luckily, she was a very engaging storyteller, and had the sort of perspective that was always worth considering, even if you ultimately disagreed with it. It’s been 12 years since she passed away after a long battle with cancer.

Afghanistan loomed large in my imagination long before I ever set foot there. I grew up listening to my Grandfather tell tales of serving in British India, hanging on his every word. In my mind, Afghanistan was a wild place on the border of civilization. It was a place for adventure.

I didn’t tell anyone at my job that I had been committed to a psychiatric ward until two years after the fact. I’ve worked for small teams and startups for most of my career – mostly focused in tech and education, and now supporting parents at Toronto co-working space The Workaround. I didn’t want others to judge whether I was equipped to do my job based on what happened while I was away.

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