BRINGING THE WORLD CLOSER TO DOMMIN

Just a few simple words said in jest has got me on the verge of crying so badly. My lovely eldest son was teasing my gorgeous eldest daughter. I can’t even remember what they were talking about. My son was laughing and said “and then she kills her third child, isn’t that right Mum”. Those words ripped through my heart, for a few seconds i just looked at him, then i realised he was still playing at winding up his sister (to him my third child). How i didn’t just sob i don’t know, i’m here writing this in the hope it just helps me. I wish this pain would stop. Just over a month till Kathleen would have turned eighteen, we should be planning her birthday. My poor baby :(

My little girl now has a full name, she is Kathleen Ellie Mae. 

To miss someone who was never technically born, is a very hard thing to deal with. To never see their beautiful face. To never hold their tiny hand. To give them a name, but then to never use it in everyday usage. For their name to only be a symbol, that their name would have been different, again is a very hard thing. My little girl Kathleen has such a name. Her name should never have been. She should have had a very pretty name for she would have been a very pretty little girl. Yet Kathleen is her name. Named after my Grandmother, who too lost a child, hers too was her third baby. Her name was Catherine, my name, mine too is a symbol name, named after my poor Aunt. Catherine died at a year old. Kathleen was a five month foetus. I hate that word. She was a baby, i could feel her every movement. Guilt is the main thing i feel, i lost her and it was my fault, and no telling me it wasn’t is ever going to change that. My poor honey is always on my mind. Its such a strange thing really. I never held her. Didn’t really say goodbye. Although what i did do was draw her gravestones, one if she was a boy (His name would have been Richard, but for the same reason above, a symbol name, my Granddad’s name.) and one for a girl. I never got to see her, The awful thing was i flushed her, I lost her and flushed the toilet. I am sure it was because i was in shock, but was it?. I had two tiny tots already and the awful feeling that i would lose my third child, and i really, at the time didn’t want a third. I try and remember what it was i was thinking, was it relief?, was it shock?, did i just want to forget it ever even happened?. I just cannot remember, I don’t think i want too. The feelings i have towards her now are only love. I call her her, yet not sure why. I think its because i always in my heart knew i was going to lose my third child, i always was so like my Nan, that she had to be a girl. Stupid i know, but that’s exactly what i thought. I think the fear of losing her, actually caused me too. I mean i’ve had five children, why her?, why did she have to be the one that died? I caused it i know i did. I’ve had the “How will i cope with this one?” with the last three, but wanted them all so much, and coped perfectly well. Can our own minds/bodies do that? I have heard that miscarriages are the bodies way of rejecting a foetus that is, lets say ‘Not right’ That there is something very wrong with it. But that doesn’t explain all those poor kiddies who are born with so many ailments, or disfigurements. If our own psyche can do this, then in effect did i murder her? This sends shudders down my spine at the very thought. Put any of my babies in front of me and loves just streams out of my pores for them. Many things have gone through my head since she died. Like she has no middle names, this really bothers me, all her siblings have two each. She is just Kathleen, almost as if i branded her. I suppose in a sense i have. So this year 1st July, (Again a symbol, she would have been born (at full term) in July, but what date?, I’ve no idea, so i gave her a symbol birthday.) I’m going to think and finally give her her names. Her Christen name i think i will keep as it is. She has had it for so long now it would be wrong to change it. Her sisters have pretty names and so should she. Do you know what is really sad?. I haven’t even told my other children about her. I treat her like a secret, again i think this is wrong and i feel very guilty that she isn’t known. I may tell them for her 21st. How do you explain to your kiddies that they should have another sister?. I can only imagine the amount of questions they will have, and how the heck do i begin to answer, when i don’t know the answers myself?. Why am i writing this? Because i need too. My little girl should be known, It should be known what i did to her, what i think happened. That i am responsible and me alone for her needless death.That i can never forget her, and never forgive myself. If i can do this at least i think i can live with my guilt, that i haven’t just locked her away. If i could go back i would. If i could tell her while she was still inside me all the feelings i feel now i would. God just to hold her as a near eighteen year old and hug her and tell her how proud of her i am. I miss my little girl. I want to take back what has happened so badly. Yet i can’t. So i have to write this, i have to write it down and hope in some strange way she see’s it. She was alive once, but did she feel any love, did i give her any at all, or did my own selfishness see to it that she didn’t. If anyone says time heals, i don’t think it does, for me its getting worse. I find myself thinking of her more and more. Each time one of her brothers or sisters achieve another obstacle in life, i wonder how she would have coped, what her grades would have been?, what would her main interests be?. The colour of her eyes?, her hair?. What would her favourite meal be?, her favourite music?, All my others are all so different, but so similar, in what ways would she be different or the same? Just so many questions, but there will never be the answers. One thing i can answer, would i have been proud of her? To that a definite yes, very very proud as i am with all my children.

Ok i’m going to attempt Tumblr again. It is my escapism, i need somewhere i can come to when i need to voice my poems, my stories my life, when i want to hide away. I don’t get it though haha, I have messages gone unanswered because i don’t have a clue how to answer. I want to message others and haven’t the foggiest if i’m doing it right. Yet i’m drawn to the fact i can just relax and write what i need too feel better.

My eldest daughter of fifteen wrote something on her Facebook wall that just fills me with such pride.

‎’…and too much blood has flown from the wrist,
of children shamed for those they chose to kiss’. This, for me, shows just how disgusting homophobia is.’

I’m not sure if its a quote i’m not sure, but i am so proud that she put this for everyone to see. Why can’t everyone have the same views.

Being bullied it seems is a part of everyday life for so many. Some people are bullied for short periods, some for long, and some until they are so overpowered by the effects they commit suicide.  I say people because its not just children and teens, but also adults too that have to live with tormentors. It would also appear that it doesn’t matter if you are pretty, fat, skinny, ugly, tall, rich or poor, these bullies will always find a fault in you no matter what you do for yourself to change their view of you. How many people here have been the victim?. How many of you cowered in the corner and just excepted that you were never going to be liked?. How many of you tried to attack back in some form but opted out because, well lets face it, you didn’t want to upset anyone, even after all they put you through?. Who amongst you thought the bad times would never end?. 

  Now i know stopping bullying is almost impossible. I mean i certainly don’t have time to patrol streets watching out for those who are hiding away. Or for those going in for the attack. But what i can do is this. I am asking each of you that has been through this. That have come out of the dark days into much more pleasurable times, where the taunts are now just in the distance of your memories. For each of you that feels that because of what happened to you in the past, you can empathise with others. That because of the past, you are a better person because of it. I want you to stand high and proud and give a big two fingered salute of thank you to those that made you who you are today. Let today’s victims see the wonderful, lovely, caring adults you become because a few thought that making your life hell was a great idea. Show those who feel there is no hope for them, that there is no end, that life will always be like this, THAT THERE IS!!!. If This post can reach just one person who needs it, can show them there is hope, they will mend, they will grow to be the better person. Then at least thats one more life maybe saved. Thanks Mumma Cafee xx

I haven’t been on here for a while, had no new poems, no Dommin news, well i’ve been pretty boring really lately. But today, well today i am utterly and totally pissed off. I know my sister has been having problems with people being very nasty too her, but today i got to see it first hand. Me, my mum, and my sister were having a gorgeous day doing what girlies do best, shopping. We had just been on part of our spree when we came out near one of the colleges. The stuff that was coming out of this group of about 6 lads was disgusting. I was bullied an awful lot at school, i was one of those just sit back and take it types, my name for starters was a great on for bullies, Mijatovic, just change the end a little and, well i think you can make a few for yourself. Being a foreign name i was asked for my green card and that sort of thing. Being of very poor means at a time when it was oh so important to wear labels, again, a great one to be picked on for. You name it and they would find a reason. I just sat back and took it. Yet now as an adult, still of poor means, in an era where labels really aren’t that important i thought the shit i used to get was over. Is it hell!!!. My sister is fifteen years my junior, but too herself an adult now. So why does this make me so angry, because her, like me, just takes it. She will of course become like me, a much better person because of it, she will empathise with others that go through this same crap. Why in this day and age, when things really are more equal, well so i thought, does bullying still go on?. What pleasure really do bullies get from trying to belittle others. Today i was going to go give these sods a piece of my mind. I certainly never would have done that all those years ago. Yet my sister stopped me as i started marching after them. But to see my sister’s face, to see my poor mum feel helpless as her daughter was getting this abuse threw me into a rage that i wanted to get out. I think because now i’m a mum, because i know mine too have all had some degree of bullying that it is just making more and more determined to get at them. But how?, I know that they will one day regret the hurtful words they say, that one day they will become the bullied, as i think most people get it in some shape or form in their life. Yet i also know that my sister will have it for a while yet. You see she is on the large size and thats why she gets it. She doesn’t deserve this, she goes to the gym nearly every night and massive bike rides, she has always had this battle trying to loose weight. What these mindless idiots don’t realize is that all the hard work she does is often broken because of them. She isn’t of strong will, she doesn’t show how much this hurts in a vocal sense. But she does show it in her comfort eating ways. Bullying doesn’t just happen in children, its shocking how much it happens in adults too. Luckily i’m a much stronger person because of the hell i went through, i just hope that she will too. I say this now though, next time there will be no stopping me, if i see her go through that again, well lets just say, Cafee is not nice when Cafee has the wrong buttons pushed and those buttons are due to explode.

thats-all-i-wrote:

My heart is a masochist,

Always yearning, always breaking,

I feel the sadness fall upon it,

I feel it beat fast, yet too slow,

Red rivers of tears run free,

Living in my veins,

How many beats do I have left?

How many times to break until I can’t mend?

Love, how many times can you kill me,

Before I don’t wake up again?

How many times can you ignore me,

Before I completely slip your mind?

My heart is a masochist,

Hurting and shattering, always shattering,

Breaking,

Breaking over you, love.

(Source: confidenceliesandheartbreak)