Reflections on being delusional from a delulu womanie
How to get what you want? Be delusional.
I like to listen to the Felix da Housecat song “Ready 2 Wear” often because, well, it’s a real banger, and because sometimes the opening line “You are a star” really sparks something inside me.
It’s embarrassing to admit, but I’m usually pretty comfortable being uncomfortable. That’s because I am healthily delusional, very much in line with the maybe not-too-current delulu trend on the webs.
My whole life, I have had outsized confidence for a serious-looking, swarthy little girl who has a lot of intense emotions, a short fuse, a thirst for justice, and sometimes a bad attitude. Oh, and a slew of anxiety, OCD, maybe ADHD.
The thing that has allowed me to chase my dreams and reach some very unrealistic goals are, well, credit cards and the support of my parents — because how else was I supposed to get by on $35,000 a year as a single woman in local journalism? — but also this delightful delusion that flourishes in me and that I cling to like a life raft.
I’d like to define this delulu/delusion as the unwillingness to let go of all of the good and untrue things my parents and teachers said to me growing up. It is also my inability to survive without thinking that in many ways, I’m special (I think everyone else is special, too — I’m not a narcissist).
Being delusional is about having proper Kierkegaardian faith in yourself. My first class in grad school focused solely on the great Danish philosopher who people associate with the term “leap of faith.” But what my professor taught us was that faith for Kierkegaard is not about leaping. It is about believing fully, entirely, with all of your soul that God will be there to catch you always. And in the case of being delusional, we are our own gods.
Delulu is primarily for people who are not inherently valued by society (anyone who isn’t a straight, cis white man) and because we don’t always have access to power, we find it inside of ourselves.
This sort of low-level delusion isn’t manic. It’s more of a goofy personality trait that lets me take risks that other women, for instance, will not. I am not by nature a risk-taker, but I believe in myself enough to think, “I can do this” even when this is totally like probably really not doable and people rightfully think I’m such a dumb asshole for doing it. And yet, if I see any hint of a way forward, I do it anyway.
Good examples include:
When I was seven months pregnant and moved to Boston while experiencing very trying personal times and ended up staying there even though it meant losing the most stable job I’d ever had. I said to myself, “I’ll be fine, I can figure out freelancing with a newborn.” Then I sat down and asked 1,000 questions about babysitter hours in Facebook groups. I did figure it out.
About 90% of the haircuts I attempted to pull off in my teens.
When I was a little girl and I got bullied all the time, I never missed a chance to tell my bully to go fuck himself.
The number of bar fights I started by being too feisty when I do not know how to fight.
Deciding to start a blog when I was in my late 20s and then changing my career at 30 once it took off enough to get actual writing jobs.
Pitching editors. Anyone who pitches major publications as a journalist is a very delusional person or a masochist.
I could go on all day.
Delusion is dom to imposter syndrome’s sub. Did I feel like an imposter writing my first article for The New York Times? For sure those feelings surfaced in me because I’m not a sociopath. But because I had access to the idea of this being something that I could maybe do, I did it. I am hellbent (hyperfocued?) on succeeding at tasks, but I am also evolved enough to know when I have to adapt and change to get better at what I do. I think the delusion gives me the boost I need to grow in ways I wouldn’t imagine possible without it.
I’m undecided on whether “fake it till you make it” is a form of delulu, but that motivational phrase allows us to get into the right mindset if we’ve lost confidence due to the absolute shittiness of life. Because confidence ebbs and flows, it weakens over time like the foundation of a house, and sometimes you have to pull from this inner well of strength and fantasy to build it back up, brick by brick.
The one way in which I feel my delusion pretty much fails me is in parenting. I am not able to access this incredible gift when it comes to my son except when I lie to myself and say that all this yelling and screen time is fine. It’s fine, right?
Hopefully I’m showing him that a lot of things that people say aren’t possible for you might be possible if you decide they are. And I do that by working at organizations that fight for justice when Lord knows there is a slim chance of ever achieving it and by wearing midriffs that aren’t quite working for me in middle age. Because while community is such a blessing in life, there is absolutely nothing more important than faith in your little inner god that stands up to bullies and lets you believe that your wildest, most ridiculous dreams can come true.