Sara Ellie MacKenzie's Blog, page 10

In Case You Forgot...

Hey, you. Yes, you. Didn't you know that I am an author of epic fantasy/action adventure books? It's a book series. This begins with twin princesses fighting for their Crown. Then, when the dust settles, the real war begins...

Get wrapped in the series today!

#IndieAuthor #BookSeries #EpicFantasy #ActionAdventure

Chronically Writing: Truisms

Yes, it's a morbid topic. Yes, I know it is the holiday season and I should be cherry. But life is about learning. It's been said that life is a beautiful lie, though. It is truer when you have been abused in childhood and need to learn how to just be.

Learning to just be also coincides with chronic illness. In the book The Body Keeps the Score, Bessel van der Kolk speaks of how trauma and the stress of it morphs into scars on your body, i.e. chronic illness (van der Kolk 2014). To me, the two concepts are part of the same journey...and it has come up with some truisms. This is part 1. I promise to post more later. Credit on some of this goes to RHCP and Godsmack.

Form in wet sand. They are too far gone. We are the product of our parents' trauma. It is up to us whether we let it burn or if we extinguish it. Do not make any major life decisions now. You can start over as many times as you want. A person cannot do it all alone. My illness is chronic, but my tits are iconic.

What are some of yours? Did you like any on the list? Comment below!

Namaste, everyone! Have a wonderful evening!

#LoveFromMeToYou #Truisms #ChronicIllness #TraumaDoesntDefineMe #BodyKeepsTheScore #MusicSavesMe #SupportYourLocalFreaks

#Excerpt 2 - Revolution

In early 246, a Council by Mother Church was called for clergy. Many priests were leaving for Mother Church’s lands to hear the new laws from the Holy One. Father Flemming was not going, but he had a contact who was. He promised to tell everyone the best parts. The first tidbit had been about how the Duchess of Shaeriden’s confessor took the Klenard standard to Mother Church instead of the Archbishop of Ploum.

Flemming was wild with laughter. “Archbishop Nicks was furious! But Her Majesty took it in stride and laughed, it was said.”

All of us in the church yard laughed with him. Oh, I imagined the Archbishop’s anger and the argument with Her Majesty behind closed doors. It was said that, while Her Majesty was prone to snide gestures, His Majesty was best known as a practical joker. The stories about the Crown were always the best!

We all waited with anticipation for more news. I was very hopeful. Mother Church always aimed to look into the future and define the modern Christian. While the Holy One had been loosening the rules a little, he promised that there was going to be a new order. Flemming had no idea what they were yet and beseeched us to continue praying.

Eventually, the crowds around the church were too large, so the priest took his show on the road to the inn. Once there and drunk from several pints of good beer, Father Flemming would regale all of us with stories from over the Nord. Nuns banned from certain meetings and told spend more time at womanly pursuits. Priests frolicking like they were men in love, picking up altar boys. Only the monks seemed the holiest, keeping the time through the masses, but hiding the sins through their loud chanting.

One night, after a rowdy round of gossip, Father was disgusted. “It is a disgrace that our spiritual leaders feel the need to corrupt the innocent and beautiful.”

“When has the world been so fair, though?” I asked him, snickering into my cup of ale. “Besides, it is only a scandalous story, Father. It most likely is not true. Let it be. I am sure the Holy One is keeping track.”

Father harumphed into his drink. “Stories like this have a spark of truth to them.”

“And? What can we do from here?” I challenged him.

Father never spoke of the issue again.

The news laws were posted throughout the warming and early hot seasons of 246. The one that gladdened our hearts was the expansion of services for farmers. Father and I were happy to hear of the return of the Jastese Christians, but they were under so much questioning that we could not get a worker in the fields. When we did, we were forced to give them reduced wages, lower than a servant of a great house, and they had to toil for longer hours.

My brothers were not happy with this arrangement.

“If they have to be on their feet until they die, then so do we,” Justin said, motioning to himself and Robert.

Father and I took it as a hint. This was more aggravating than we anticipated. We had to let the Jastese go. It was just as well. The Holy One was said to have remarked about how the brown skin color was ungainly and ugly anyway. He authorized several books to be written about it and dubbed the idea a new science. They called it Jastology.

Outwardly, I was praising the Holy One for his diligence and intelligence and encouraging all to read the scripts being released soon. It was a confusing notion otherwise, I thought to myself. I knew that the Jastese people were good at heart like we were. At the same time, we had to obey the Holy One. If he said there was a science behind inferiority, then we had to listen to it.

By Midsummer, Flemming promised more. His friend at Mother Church recently wrote that the last meeting lasted for days, but nothing was allowed to be relayed yet. The Holy One did not stop talking and gave them no break until he wrote the last note. Everyone was in an uproar, shouting at Flemming that it sounded unlike the Holy One.

My heart told me that there was something wrong coming.

I told my inner voice to be quiet.

Chronically Writing: Pacing

Yeah, About that. Chronic illness has a way to keep me from resting and running errands. The meme describes it best. I want to rest because I am too tired to be a human being, but I hurt too much to sleep.

In this edition of Chronically Writing, I want to talk about how I pace myself. Because the meme is a situation that happens very often, I have to work out the balance. Add in being at home almost 24/7 and having a husband who is also chronically ill and a special needs child, this is a must.

The biggest problem is that everyone wants me to be with them at the same time, all at once. I do not have enough pieces of myself to go around, not even for me.

It has been that way for years. Never mind the years I spent abused. Since becoming a mother to an autistic child, I've had to learn many things. Not only did our circle become much, much smaller, we learned that they did not want to understand our circumstances and judge us on those they experienced.

There was a point in my life where I was going to school and work full time, at the same time. Calvin was under 3 years old. My husband was also working (at the same place I did, by the way). We lived in northern Maine, so we had no family around, nor any reliable people we knew.

The biggest lesson was learning how to do things alone. The times it was just me and my son, I learned how to juggle being a mom, running chores, tending to his needs, etc. I always had safe places I could put him down, like a playpen where he could see me. However, the more needs he required, the more I had to plan. Initially, it was becoming numb to everything because I felt like everything had to be done. I did education and day job at the same time I was running a household, cooking and childcare.

It's trial and error. Unless there is total disregard for any child and complete abuse (no matter how pretty it looks on the outside), I think that any mom is a good mom, no matter who you are. I mean, I was a young mom. I like it now because I still have the energy to chase Calvin. He's also 12 years old and becoming more independent.

Even now, my husband and I are still working out our communication skills and how to divvy up the household. With chronic illness, it can change everyday. Today, I could be all right and run around to do chores. The next day, the rules could change and I am dragging myself out of bed with legs and arms like lead.

There are days when it is both. I have some spoons, use them, and sit for a while. Regain a few spoons, I am up again. Sometimes, like everyone else, I overdo it. Spend a whole day on my feet. Placed 1000% attention on Calvin and taught him social skills and how to be more aware.

Like I said, trial and error. But at the end of the day. I know that I did the best I could. Sometimes, it is with the negative emotions. Other times, I am the champ, the Queen of Cool. No matter what, I am on top of the world and I CAN figure out how to function in a world that has no empathy.

There was something I watched a few days ago. Nora O'Donnell on CBS was interviewing Oprah Winfrey. Yes, I get it. Some of us don't like her. But there was a segment about a book she and Arthur C. Brooks wrote. While it talks about the step-by-step guide, the interview had something that helped me.

It was about being a happy person.

Oprah said that everyone is a happy person...with negative emotions, like anger, depression, etc. That really got me thinking: if we were all happy, all we had to do was unlock the doors we've placed upon us to hide it. In order for us to truly have that happiness and empathy, we have to face all of the doors.

I've been working that into my pacing. Yes, I am a happy person. I just have emotions and a physical body that is behest by a disease that cannot be cured. That does not define me, the soul. We are not victims chained to our trauma.

If you want to learn more about the book, the CBS article is here.

Sorry this is short, everyone. I still have some serious cleaning and editing to do. I spent yesterday lounging for far too long. I am excited about the new season of The Crown and watching everything I can. I am excited about what's coming!!

Namaste, everyone. Have a great rest of your week!

#BeingHappy #Pacing #SpecialNeedsChild #OneStepAtATime #ChronicIllness

LOCAL AUTHORS FESTIVAL

Yes, this is good news!! On Indie Author weekend, I will be at the Norwalk Public Library on Saturday only, though. Yes, please come on down. There is so much more to do than just seeing local authors too. There are Author Panels, Open Mic and more. The possibilities are endless!!!

I want to thank the Norwalk Public Library, mostly Cynde Lahey, for this wonderful opportunity. This is a way for the written arts to stay alive and I cannot be more grateful for that.

Namaste, everyone! Have a great day!

#BookEvent #LocalAuthors #CTAuthorsPartnership #AuthorPanel #NorwalkPublicLibrary

Chronically Writing: Feelings

Wow, yeah. This is a huge topic. Everyone with chronic illness feels differently. All of us have the same needs, feelings and experiences as everyone else. We just have an invisible illness that is disbelieved by most people. So, I will speak about mine. I cannot say it for someone else.

I am still exploring how I feel with chronic illness. I was just diagnosed with Fibromyalgia and Raynaud's Phenomenon on Friday and I know that it has been difficult. It's one thing on top of another and I have so much going on already. But I learned to quiet my mind. I had suspicions and all I had to do was fight and wait.

Yes, I had to fight.

From the ER visits last year to telling a neurologist that she was wrong, I have cried and planned. I am also a natural researcher and I am pretty good at finding reliable sources. I have brought up many good points, but all people judge me on are my looks - my wide frame and round face. It took some doing for my PCP to even look over lab results too.

Fibro, Raynaud's and MCTD fight just as hard as I do and I am often down for the count after dealing with what's in front of me. Even when I sit down, I feel like not all of the weight is relieved. Sometimes, it is even painful and utterly exhausting. I am typing this blog post out, so my bare arms are touching my desk, which is cold. I have not gotten anything to cover it yet.

I had an appointment on Friday at a facility in Southington. I was nervous because I feared that I was going to be dismissed again. I read reviews about one of the personnel doing unnecessary work. I was surprised when I came into kindness and empathy. To me, it felt like the effort was worth it and that maybe I was the imposter in the wrong office. Of course, I was wrong.

The fight has not ended yet. There is much more that I've had to deal with. People think I am strong. Yes, I show a really good face the past couple of years. I give inspiring and encouraging words. I also know what it is like to be without. I know what life has dealt me already and I want to stop that cycle. I ran through several coping mechanisms and seek within everyday.

I am not the same person I was three years ago.

Because of that, I lost a lot of people. Thinking about it, as soon as I realized what I wanted in life and the boundaries, the rest was easy. Even with those I love, the one thing I noticed first is that hardly anyone reaches out to me. At all. I know that everyone is busy - careers, children, parents, health, traveling, anything! I have the same problems. I am everybody's back-up, though, and I have stepped up until I no longer could. For about 90% of people I know (blood family and in-laws mainly), that was not enough.

I was not kidding when I said I was called nasty things. Over-glorified housewife. A financial burden. Imagine hearing that for your whole life, and then having a chronic illness. The depression and anxiety alone can be crippling.

Not to say that I hate the peace. I love it actually. Sometimes, though, in the small parts of myself, there is a need for a good friend around my age (other than my husband). I gave so much of myself that I cannot give much more except for my books.

It is also weird of me to say this:

I do not do well with other women. I can relate and some are empathetic. I've had terrific conversations with women and even my therapist identifies as female. Honestly, I fit in better with the men. Strange to say that they understand the pain and do not compete. Most of my closest friends are male.

Chronic illness and trauma go hand-in-hand. What are your thoughts about it? If you have any chronic illness, how do you feel about it? Do you think, upon self-reflection, some of them are cruel?

Namaste!

#ChronicIllness #RoundTwoFight #Fibro #Raynauds #HowIFeel #DancingInTheDark #IndieAuthor #NewBritain

Return to Trinity-on-Main!

This is it!!! We are going back to Trinity-on-Main today!!! Doors will open at 10:30. We will be here until 3:30. What better place to begin your holiday shopping? Local vendors are unique.

I will be busy with events and the holidays for the rest of the year. #BehindTheScenes and #TuesdayTrivia will restart in January 2024, after Calvin goes back to school. "Chronically Writing" will continue, when I can (as always). I plan to do #Thankful videos again in November until Thanksgiving. And, of course, keep an eye out for updates about the book series.

Namaste, everyone!

#OffWeGo #SecondTime #BookEvent #CraftEvent #IndieCreators #ComeOnDown

#FindOutFriday Answers 15

Hi, everyone! Here are the answers for the trivia. Which ones did you get right? Comment and share below. Until next time, namaste!

Jamie Farr/Character of Klinger - The actor itself has a mention in Through the Meadow. When the character of Miranda is sent to another kingdom for safety, she meets the King. His companion is named Jamie (short for James) and...you guessed it...he is a crossdresser. M*A*S*H was on syndicate when I was growing up and my parents played it constantly. Jamie Farr is a unique inspiration! United Nations - I know I did this previously, but this is worth a repeat for those who are new. The United Nations was the basis of the United Front, mentioned in Through the Meadow. While the initial making of the organization in Through the Meadow was meant to smuggle people to safety and for espionage, its aim was also to address world problems and to help others in need. The United Kingdom - The UK was part of my idea for the dual monarchy of Klenard and Tommel. In the fictional history books, Tommel was meant for appeasement, but was always under the jurisdiction of Klenard. The UK has a complicated history with imperialism, most notably with their immediate neighbors. I will not get into specifics, but I think everyone has an idea of the infighting and rebellion that has happened between Wales, Ireland, Scotland and England.

#TriviaAnswers #TVShows #Funnies #UnitedNations #TogetherWeStand #Imperialism #SunNeverSets

None of Them Were Human

Ode to the West Haven, CT VA Hospital

None of Them Were Human

They walk through sunshine, through rain,

And they came home from the jungles, deserts, and forests.

There were stacks and stacks of paperwork before them.

The finish line was nowhere in sight.

None of them were human.

In the meantime, the ungrateful called them out.

Baby Killers, they said, and they threw garbage without cheer.

Shame crept in and none of it made sense in their trauma.

The tentacles of the deep pulled them under for a swim.

Because none of them were human.

It took days, weeks, months, years, to get through.

Once becoming an insider, it was unlike any underworld.

They could not trust their own eyes

The new entity that swallowed them whole.

Oh, none of them were human.

The stars were supposed to align and shine.

This was the Promised Land that was garbled about.

But those who sent soldiers to war could do nothing

For those returning to a world that pushed for normalcy.

For none of them were human…

The silent swirl of darkness kept them in the cold mud.

The only conveyer belt assembled misshapen parts

On each specimen, congratulating them on

A job well done – as if killing another soul invigorates.

But none of them were human.

It is the primal screams of a dying animal,

But they are told they are the crazy ones

It is the sugar sweetness of the nurse’s injections,

But the only person she looks after is herself.

And none of them were human.

There was no privacy, no dignity, amongst them.

Soldiers crawled until they could no longer remain stuck.

The best they felt was at the bottom of the bottle,

Smiling as they wished for a bullet to the head.

Yes, none of them were human…

The cycle repeated itself time and again.

The muddy trenches deepened without mercy.

Suddenly, there was no names and numbers.

They said that there was no humanity amongst filth.

Only none of them were human.

And here I sit…

A half-shaken stirring scream of wordless

Years of suffering and darkness

That has no meaning, no gender, no name.

None of them were human.

That was where you were mistaken.

c. 2023 Sara Ellie MacKenzie

#Excerpt 1 - Revolution

PROLOGUE

KINGDOM OF KLENARD HOT SEASON, 279

Tomorrow, I am going to die.

It was ordained by the Lord. I felt very lucky. Most people have to wait for God to collect their souls. They never knew when that moment was going to be. They might meet an unfortunate accident or a slip of the tongue might destroy them.

John Bryon-Howe, the former Duke of Shaeriden, sat nearby. He had not moved much more than an inch from the fireplace since I had arrived. A man so still and so close to death should not be wasting his time in silence. I was frightened for his sanity and hoped that he did not lose his mind in the end. He was supposed to be beheaded with me on the morn.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” I began. I hoped to coax something out of him.

Yet, His Grace said nothing.

The night progressed. We could hear the workers below, sawing wood and nailing it together. Some guards called out the hour. The birds called out a lovely tune.

God granted me a beautiful last evening.

I decided that I was going to turn my mind to a night of prayer. The last of my belongings had been dispersed with long ago. Because I had been condemned as a warlock, Archbishop Gaines was going to excommunicate me before the beheading. The Lord had granted me serenity this very night. I no longer had any earthly worries, not even the prospect of being outside of Mother Church’s flock.

I crawled to my remote corner with the large pillow. A few minutes later, I felt a heavy weight beside me. Another set of lips spoke the same familiar words.

I let a smile escape.

We both stopped a little while later, but we did not move. We pretended to be praying silently. The guards were changing and the scaffold was finished. The stars were just letting up. The sun was still hours away.

“What do you think, Redeemer?” Bryon asked me. “Do you think it will be quick?”

His words startled me. It was confident, as it normally was, but his questions slightly quivered. I understood. He was going into the next unknown with me. This man, who had experienced war, betrayal, death, and politics, was asking me for reassurance.

How do I answer him? I am no priest.

It was not going to matter soon anyway. We were going to die. Whether he came to terms with it or not was something not meant for my shoulders. I did not need to additional bondage to this earth.

But I replied anyway. “I heard that the executioner was swift,” I joked. “Your Grace should be comforted to know that God will be waiting on the other side. He will heal all pain.”

Bryon shook his head with laughter. “What brought us so low, Redeemer? Why did we not see it coming? What brought us to this revolution?”

I was startled. I thought the outburst was rhetorical. Bryon was serious, though. He was of noble bearing, after all, and I was formally a small landowner. He wanted a story. It was not to while away the hours before we died. Every Klenard man needed comfort when he went into the next stage of his life. His Grace was no different.

“The new Klenard was difficult,” I offered him weakly.

He nodded, encouraging me to continue.

“But we were all comfortable under the old Queen,” I dared to add. “Like you, Lord Bryon, I was born under the happiest of decades…”