I have a major problem. 

My need and want to control a situation when it’s out of control — while it can be helpful at times… it can also be horribly awful other times. 

To be fair, I never do this out of spite or because I am a control freak. I’m generally a worrier and I want everyone around me to be okay at all times — which is pretty stupid, I know… but honestly… as usual, everything just boils down to my guilty conscience. 

This began almost five years ago after my father had passed away. The events that went down back before it… some of them, I was a horrible participant in them and in some, I was just a stuck up, self-absorbed asshole who can’t see others or outside of my own bubble of needs. Basically, I was a horrible human being. I would not want to be friends with myself circa 2009-2011. So when my dad passed away and everything in our lives fell apart, I first experienced the metaphorical slap from life. I was angry at first because I didn’t think I deserve to be treated like this when I have done nothing. 

But that was it — I have done nothing. I have done nothing for my family. For my life. For my future. 

I was generally a waste of space. 
I was forcing my parents to fund me to go to a normal university in Bangkok for a major I thought I was interested and even then it was because of my friends… I thought I was the shit for visual design. But honestly speaking, I was going to be shit AT it. Anyway, so yeah. I was going to waste my time, energy and my parents money if I had ontinued down this path then.

Even before this debacle, I was basically wasting my life. After GCE ‘O’ levels, which I didn’t do my best also, I was wasting my time doing nothing in Yangon for a year. I was so lost. I didn’t know what I want to do. I was so caught up with my friends.

I truly regret wasting my life for a while then. But somehow, I’m also grateful for them because I won’t be who I am today without those shitty things I did. 

Honestly, before 2011-Chit Chit was just… unspeakable and the rest of the 2011-Chit Chit was not okay as well.

I lost my dad and was more lost with myself and life more than ever. On top of it, I was feeling so guilty about my dad’s death. I know deep down, sometimes, that it’s not my fault. But I blame myself for everything I did exactly five years ago these days.

If I hadn’t pushed my parents to sell the house for my education, my dad might still be alive.

When my dad got sick and became bed-ridden in July 2011, I didn’t understand that people could be taken away from you. I thought horrible thing like losing my mom or dad could never happen to me. We were already going through horrible financial problems, I didn’t think it could get worse than this. So, I continued to go out with my friends; went out all night and never home. While my parents were working their ass off to get the house sold when no one wants to sell it. I didn’t want it to be sold also because it was my childhood home. But clearly, my priority was off. I wanted a higher education because all of my friends are off abroad getting education. I was so focused on what I want that I didn’t see that my dad urges my mom to go along when I go to Bangkok to register for university, when she wanted to be home to take care of him. I didn’t see that my mom wants to take my dad to Bangkok for check up but my dad is stubborn and didn’t want to waste any more money on check up. He self-accepted that he was going to welcome whatever was wrong with him. He was still functional when we left for Bangkok but just five days in and things got worse for him. He needs to undergo major heart surgery because they found water in his heart. Doctors here were crap. But let’s not dive into this because this is another can of worms that I don’t want to open yet. Anyway, long story short, he was misdiagnosed — went under surgery, we all flew back and two weeks later, we lost him.

If I had been more considerate and be more attentive, my dad would have live longer.

Even on the early morning on the day, before he passed away, I said things to my family which I didn’t mean them deep down but I was so angry with things in my life and didn’t think he would go away from me and I delayed my family in going to the hospital when my mom called us up to come to the hospital… my cousin brother, my sister and I didn’t have a chance to be around him when he passed away.

We got a call from my mom on the taxi, on the way… I remembered so vividly of the moment we received the call. 

I remembered the exact place the taxi was passing.

I remembered the exact word my cousin brother and my sister said at that moment.

I remembered my reaction to it.

It’s not true. He is not dead. He can’t be.

I remembered my cousin brother crying while my sister and I were in shocked.

I remembered when I started crying.

I remembered that my sister was holding herself because she didn’t want to freak me out.

I remembered walking up to his hospital room. 

Then the rest is a blur.
The rest of the 2011 was a blur as well.

It was dark. I was heavily depressed. My mom was heavily depressed. 

My mom and I were living in a new shiny house that my dad and my mom bought and customized it for their new life without the kids. Living in that house was a constant reminder for me that if I have done things differently or behaved differently, things might have turned our differently.

———-

I don’t know the exact year or the month that I became aware of my guilty conscience or my worrying problem…but for as long as I can remember now:

I worry a lot. I worry so much about people. When I can’t do things for people in my life, even because it’s out of my control or my expertise, I feel guilty. Majorly guilty.

I promise myself that I will never treat another person the way I treat my dad and the situations surrounding then in 2011.

Thus, my major problem of wanting and needing: 

  1. to control things which are out of control
  2. to make sure everyone around me is okay, and not affected by my actions. 

I know it’s annoying that I do this but this is my version of hell and I don’t know if I will ever be able to get out of this hell — involuntarily or voluntarily. 

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