“You’re delusional.”
This is a particularly sharp criticism. When pointed at you, it is usually intended as a constructive correction mixed with a bit of insult and shame (you know, like things I learned how to say when living in the American south before moving to Europe, bless my heart…).
Real delusion is a symptom of mental illness, when the delusional person holds false beliefs even when faced with incontrovertible evidence to the contrary. Delusion seems to leave the bearer of the illness somewhat protected by a self-imposed ignorance, while those in this person’s orbit are left feeling injured and unheard.
If you are trying something new and unexpected, and someone says you are delusional, consider this: they may feel uncomfortable in the face of your actions, but that alone probably doesn’t merit this quasi-diagnosis. But another thing I picked up in the south: they probably actually care about you and want to help you. If they didn’t like you, they’d probably just call you a dumbass, or, in the parlance of my own people up north, a jerk.
Generally, we don't call each other jerks on Thanksgiving.
But delusional, well…
Imagine a bird suddenly turning in the middle of a flock and heading to the east, with a thousand other birds still flapping away to the west. Maybe the birds that care would shift a bit and squawk at that one mixed up bird. The rest might just get annoyed, dismiss it, flap forward toward the sunset, and forget it ever existed. But whose feathers are the most ruffled in this story? Delusion is at least as much about the flock as it is about the bird.
Now, if you’ve ever done anything out of the ordinary, you’ve likely heard someone say this to you, or it has been said about you over the water cooler, zoom screen, or Thanksgiving dinner table. I recommend you accept this. Place it like a tiny trophy on the mantlepiece of your fiery heart: someone, somewhere, at some point in your life, said you were weird. Okay. Fine. Good. It is good to be a little weird.
Speaking of birds, I know that when I became a vegetarian, things got a bit uncomfortable over the Thanksgiving table for a few years. And sure, those who might say it is delusional to avoid eating turkey on Thanksgiving based on your own special interpretation of what is and is not ethical might be, in part, correct. Yes, my Tofurky and no-chicken gravy are made from soy, which came to my ethically-correct tofu manufacturer as leftovers from the ethically-incorrect turkey-feed industry. My tofu company could not economically exist without this symbiotic relationship, ergo, I am delusional in thinking I am making a truly meaningful ethical decision.
Knowing that I am someone who values hospitality, it is also, in the annoyed viewer’s mind, hypocritical of me to make this choice at the Thanksgiving dinner table. At this table, counting our blessings and giving thanks means not making everyone else feel bad by just eating the side dishes. It means not bringing up the whole Presidential turkey-pardon thing, especially in this fraught political time of delusional Presidential pardons (jerk). So yeah - delusional and hypocritical: everybody’s (least) favorite combo.
That’s the part of the flock’s feeling about your weirdness that you have to reckon with, and maybe become comfortable with, or actually change and assimilate to (which is sometimes also acceptable): there is some truth in what they are saying. The bit of truth makes the criticism more powerful. The bit of truth makes the one-who-dreams just, you know, wake up. Or, if you’ve taken a big chance, the bit of truth keeps you worrying and unable to fall asleep, even after a great big holiday meal.
But here is another truth about doing something different: it can open up whole new skies, where other flocks you never knew existed are busily going about their other-bird business. Once experienced, you become that special creature that gets to flit back and forth between flocks! After all, the world doesn’t stop just because you did something different, and all kinds of new things enter your life when you do.
This is, I feel, an enormous gift.
Nervous moms and dads used to approach me when I was an arts leader in the US, asking me if it would be ok for their potentially-delusional children to enter the seemingly-disastrous industry of show business. My answer was always the same: your child is not alone and will not be entering into some kind of vacuum. This is the most collaborative artform known to humanity, and your child will join a great community where people take care of one another, share resources, and celebrate one another. Your child will experience ups and downs, but will lead a fulfilling, joyful life surrounded by friends. Going broke, experiencing harm, giving up other potentially successful paths, maybe giving up having their own children as they chase some dream - these were the individual worries these parents had for their kids. But they tended to ignore what was happening right in front of their faces as we had our little chats: their kid was running around the theater with friends, whooping and hollering, and having a ball. They were already in that new community! Also, they likely were not seeing me standing right in front of them: a female CEO making a six figure salary in the arts, happy with three kids and a beautiful theater company… all because at some point my parents encouraged me when I wanted to chase my own - possibly delusional - dream. I, too, had been lifted up by my community.
Community: isn’t that actually what Thanksgiving is about?
I am sure that very few people are delusional about that. It is what makes this holiday special. We all agree that the reality of Thanksgiving is that we use it ritualistically to express thanks to one another and the Universe for those in our close circles. Clearly it is also a somewhat delusional holiday (my husband is a Native American scholar, so don’t even get me started on that story - except to say that like all delusions, there is some truth to it). As such, we really enjoy inviting European guests to our Thanksgiving dinner here in Belgium (which, we always pre-empt by stating that it will not be as authentic as other Thanksgivings because, you know, the vegetarian thing…). Like others practicing a cultural ritual far from home, these Thanksgivings are both rich with appreciation, but also, funnily enough, much more relaxed since no one in our American nor European flocks really give a hoot whether we celebrate Thanksgiving here or not. So, we do it because we want to.
I’ve discovered that this is a beautiful result of doing something different. You do it, ultimately, because it makes you feel happy.
This is why there is such danger when you self-apply this idea of being delusional. Take care with this one. When you accuse yourself of this little psychotic gem, you need to stop, take stock, and consider not just what this might mean for yourself, but also what it might mean for the community who embraces you and your dream, and what it could mean for opportunities you may be blocking because you have succumbed to self-emolation. If you are delusional, then anyone who has embraced your different choices may be as well - so what are they, then - a cult? Confused?
Quick example: a rainy day a week or so ago I was self-applying this delusional label. I had, after all, lived for two and a half years in Europe outside my traditional career path. This had recently come with a financial dip. Money insecurity plus winter weather = feel bad. But, rather than cower in fear, my daughter and I hopped in with generous friends driving to Paris. A few hours later we piled into our other inspiring friends’ welcoming apartment and spent a rainy weekend barely noticing the Eiffel Tower as we hopped around the puddles going from bookstores to hot chocolate shops. We sniffed steaming corncobs roasted over coals by street vendors, and shared roasted sweet chestnuts wrapped in maps from the Louvre.
Our friends proudly showed us the greatest bakery in the world: Land and Monkeys, a fully plant-based Parisian bakery. I took 2,000 pictures. Here are just a few.
My friend Alex told me the story of the Parisian chef who went vegan and then figured out a way to celebrate his culture through this bakery, just leaving out the meat and dairy. Several times during our trip, Alex reminded me to continue to keep art in my life, to keep learning about great immigrant stories, and to continue to fight for a better world. Also, Alex encouraged me to keep writing. It was a wonderful, affirming, fun trip. I think all said and done, we spent fifty euro bucks.
So - was I delusional to make this leap with my family?
And more importantly - who cares?
Do I?
Look at the amazing community I discovered here, I told myself on the drive home, see the beauty, wonder, and love my family is experiencing! Upon returning, I set about reminding myself that it does not matter what worries I might drum up and accuse myself of: the facts are these: my choice has brought me and my family things for which I am incredibly thankful: happiness, friendships, adventure, and exposure to a much more global view where I more easily recognize and feel thankful for the gifts in my life.
This is the reality that I see.
As we look ahead, we’re actually considering a return to the US as one possible next step. Some might see that as a crazy or delusional idea, but I’ve learned better. My happiness doesn’t hinge on whether I stay or leave; it comes from the meaningful things I carry with me and the connections I build, wherever I choose to be. There is no single, big, juicy, meaty centerpiece decision in a life. Instead, it’s the full feast you lay out - one shared with friends and family - that truly sets the beautiful table of your life.
As I have discovered in being a vegetarian on Thanksgiving, it is not the meat of the matter that really matters: it is the sides. The possibly delusional decision you may make in order to chase a dream is not the most important part of the meal of your life: it is the things that come along with it - these rich, sweet, delicious and unexpected side dishes and desserts that accompany your showpiece choice. So - maybe the not-real tofurky that sits at the center of my table is not as genuine as other Thanksgiving birds, but the spirit and courage that cooked it up, and all the wonderful things that accompany it, are authentic and as real as can be.
For this, I am deeply thankful.
This is a wonderful read Elizabeth! I so enjoyed it!🩷
Especially love the last paragraph....it's not the meat of tge matter but the sides!