For a few brief years when my mother raised us on her own, there was a period of relative happiness. Most of my memories of this time were of being alone. I was left to watch tv and play by myself with only my thoughts for company. But the peace was not to last once my father began adopting extremist views and found a woman who shared them.

Recovering from a broken life is incredibly difficult. When you're mentally ill, it adds a complicated layer to an already overwhelming task. But broken doesn't have to mean irreparable. In this case it means attempting to uncover long-buried memories in an effort to piece together a painful past so it can finally be put to rest.