The privilege to be delusional.

Existential crisis during a 10-hour road trip with a mate turned to a therapy session nor him or I asked for.

Having turned twenty-two, a mate and I went on a weekend getaway to Melbourne. I’ve been overanalysing everything I’ve done and fixating on all that I haven’t yet achieved. Early twenties are the undefined in between years where there are no parameters for success, no guidelines, no measurable success. I’ve somehow managed to both spiral and find reprieve from this existential crisis that defines our twenties. And I’m only on the second lap.

10 hours in a car with the male version of someone that is eerily similar to me. It was a lot to unpack. And despite the spirals we had and the questions, concerns, and doubts that were raised. Of all the conversations we had over the 4 days, what stuck with me the most was just how grateful I am.

Grateful to be in a position where I have an abundance of options — even if it comes with decision paralysis, which is a privilege in itself. Grateful to have been blessed with parents who made me audacious. To have a mother that allowed me to be delusional.

I’m not sure what the following is. An epiphany that allowed me to understand why I am the way I am, a wakeup call, or motivation to push the envelope and see that delusional in everyone else.

Being raised by a woman who faced every decision with fuck it, why not followed by everything happens for a reason is, I assume, what led me to double down on being audacious. I grew up watching someone leap into the deep end with unwavering faith that we’d figure it out. And I understand now as I’ve grown up and my worlds gotten bigger, how much of an anomaly that is.

Every time I approached mama or my sister (aka my favourite parent) with any random ideas or spur of the moment decisions they simply listened. They listened and they didn’t judge. Simply gave me advice where they could and let me figure out the rest. Played into the big dreams we all have as kids, like all our parents do.

So it’s a sobering reality when one day we wake up as adults and realize no one’s telling us to dream big anymore — instead, it’s time to settle down. Pick the realistic, stable, and conforming career, partner, house, lifestyle, dream. We become shackled to the realities of life and our questionable economies, and sensitive to other people opinions and judgements of us.

But what hit harder was the shift from a wide-eyed dreamer to a woman suddenly perceived as too much. I wasn’t ready for that shift. Being one of two brown daughters, my parents never differentiated between gender. Maybe it’s because they didn’t have a son to compare us to — we were never told there was anything we couldn’t do simply because we were girls. There lies the foundation of my delusionality. And as I got older, and my ambitions and audacity grew, they didn’t pull me down.

So, it was a jarring when all of a sudden, I was faced with all this external noise. Opinions that acted as if they have the right to dictate how much I can want and do in my life, and how to live said life. Telling me I was too much. too outspoken, too independent, too ambitious, too loud, too intimidating, too much to handle. Not just for a woman. But especially for a brown woman.

And the unsolicited opinions held weight for longer than I would like to admit. I didn’t want to be perceived as difficult, or arrogant, or delusional But delusion is often just unproven confidence — and the same drive and ambition in a man is celebrated as a green flag. If anything, I was disappointed at how quickly I fell into the trap of double standards, letting them shape my sense of self instead of challenging them head-on.

So, when I opened this forum with her, I was reminded again that she never cautioned me to dream smaller or stay within my lane. I was never told to shrink or conform to make myself for digestible. If anything, no parameters were ever set for me to stay within.

lok pateeaarai kachhoo na paieeaai

(By trying to please other people, nothing is accomplished)

Guru Arjun Dev Ji — (Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji — Ang 736)

Rather than questioning my own choices, identity, and beliefs I realised I’m not the problem. The judgement and expectations of the external world is not my burden to carry. The above scripture from the Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji was ‘technically’ my first tattoo. And yes, I’m aware its very basic to have a scripture tattooed on me, but that’s ok. The scripture is a reminder of what anchors me — of the values I choose to live by, even if my actions make the aunties clutch their pearls and whisper under their breathes, screw it I’m happy to be their entertainment. Because no one ever built a remarkable life by playing it safe and not ruffling some feathers. And more importantly no one ever found happiness by simply doing what appeased others.

What was even more eye-opening was the epiphany that the world isn’t used to women like this. As arrogant as that sounds. Sometimes, when we do or say the hard, unpopular thing, we discover it wasn’t unpopular at all. In actuality, what you are doing is simply underrepresented. It will stay underrepresented until someone begins to represent that necessary action or say that necessary thing or move in that necessary way. We need more women who don’t self-sensor, who don’t shrink themselves to make others comfortable, who don’t soften their ambition as to not be intimidating. Especially more brown women.

The spiral, the push and pull of all that I could do or be, somehow brought more clarity. I no longer take judgment personally — your thoughts about me are your business and your problem, hat will no longer weigh me down. I’m no longer asking myself if I’m ‘too much’, instead I’m questioning them why too much is such a bad thing. Let us be offensive to some, if that means liberty for us.

I’m writing this at 6am during my layover in Columbia, flying between New York and Peru. Peru is where I’ll be hiking for a week through the Sacred Valley, and New York was a last-minute addition to the trip, planned just days before leaving. Someone asked me yesterday, is your mum ever worried about you and all the shit you do. If I were to speak for her, I don’t think she’s concerned for me any more than the next parent. Despite my questionable, always fun, decision making, she knows she raised a competent and capable daughter.

So, here’s to my mama, who taught me and showed me how to live my best audacious life.