“so basically you’re worrying about things that are out of your control.”
“yeah, i guess so.”
“but that’s what we have God for.”
i never worry about things i have control over.
i seldom let my parents in on what it’s like to be a houseman. i brush off the long hours, telling them that at least i don’t take sleep for granted anymore. i seldom complain to them about work because no one forced me to pen down “medicine” in my scholarship application form and no one forced me to accept the offer. i don’t mention the deep regrets i have about going to singapore because i chose to go there, though admittedly an 18-yr-old who had ulterior motives for making the move should not have been allowed to make that decision on her own. i chose to come to ipoh. i chose the people i lived with here. i chose surgery. i chose to go home for the next phase of my career. these were all within my control, and i accept responsibility for them.
but the things that aren’t in my control – how other people respond, react, feel – those are the things that frustrate me most because i can’t accept responsibility for them. i can only…accept them. there’s a kind of pain in knowing that whatever you do will have no consequence whatsoever to the outcome, that the venn diagrams do not cross, that the events run in a parallel line.
i know people who see it as a sort of freedom when they are not a variable in any situation, but i hate feeling helpless and out of the picture. i want to know if there’s something i could have done to make things better or if there’s anything i can take the blame for.
at least then, i’ll know, that my human self is sufficient and able.
at least then there’ll be a lie i can convince myself its true.