I know I have lived this way...several times over actually. And I have chosen the delusion over reality recently, lest you think this is something I did some age ago long passed. No, I have chosen it recently and it makes me feel ashamed.
But before I spiral out of control in some shame soaked overly dramatic flair, I have to say that delusion is way easier than reality. And reality really sucks a great deal of the time.
So with that out in the open, I can and will own my tendency towards magical, delusional belief over sanity and reality based living.
And if I could just live in the delusion forever, that might be an acceptable way to live. I see others living like this and I would be a liar if I didn’t say that sometimes, hell frequently, I envy them.
But unfortunately, or fortunately, it really does depend on how you look at it, for me anyway, the delusion always leaves me dangling precariously over my own demise. Always. And so does reality I guess. I mean we are all dying a little each day. And none of us will avoid death, no matter how much money we have, botox, health or sanity. Death is the great leveler.
But there is something in loving the delusion over reality that allows one to maintain some other space. Some place where we believe that things might just work out for us after all. Unfortunately we tend to believe that over a great amount of evidence to the contrary. And then one day, the delusional bubble pops and we are delivered to a harsh and blinding reality that was there all along...we just refused to see it.
I have spent the better part of my life wishing for things that I couldn’t have. Demanding that people be capable of things they are not ever going to be capable of. Insisting that I am capable fo things that I am, in fact, not capable of. And it has brought an untold amount of suffering for all involved. Me, likely most of all.
That is the thing about loving delusion, right? You are the one that labors under it most, and so you are the one that suffers most when all of the work you have done to maintain the delusion over reality finally and blessedly explodes. Then you stand in a very lonely place where you are surrounded by the ashes of all you previously believed and maintained. And everyone else just keeps walking by you, somewhat disgusted that you made such a fucking mess. And you are baffled because you really thought it would work out for you this time.
I stand in that rubbled ash right now. My delusions defeated and withering beside me. And since delusion requires solidarity and solitude, once you wake up, it comes as a shock just how alone you really are because all the people you thought were in this with you, never were. They didn’t share your delusion. They were really only figments, fragmented parts of others that you pulled into this ever evolving delusional reality that supplanted actual reality.
I am not sure about you, but my delusions are amazing. They are spectacular and they are gorgeous. And they have the power to override my common sense, my intellect, the cautionary tales from others and my own actual observations. They are seductive and demanding. They compel and dispel all things contrary to disappear.
It is a very lonely place when you can no longer live in your delusion. When all the pinnings of it fall away and you are left standing there, with excuses and explanations for things you did or said, or didn’t do or didn’t say. And you know, and everyone else does too, that there was nothing really ever there. It was all in your mind, your heart supported and aided by those who profit from people like you always being wiling to believe.
Reality is painful. But I am finding it is less painful than the maintenance and subrogation delusion requires. I feel like I am waking up and surveying my landscapes (internal and external) and I can still see the marks of delusion laid over reality. They are here in my home, on my body, in my mind. And I want to rid myself of all evidence that I ever believed in such things. But I really lack the energy to take on such a feat right now. It is hotter than the surface of the sun, my neck is still fucked up beyond all belief and I am tired. Bone weary kind of tired that feels like I could sleep through winter.
I feel fragile and somewhat untethered. Not unlike a bomb might feel if a bomb could emote. A whole bunch of combustible substances generally contained within a container that is not meant to hold such contents forever. But just long enough for decisions to be made about where to land this particular device.
This is how I feel right now. Fragile. Delicate. And capable of massive destruction. Mostly to myself, if I am honest. Others are not really my target. For them, I feel empathy, it is myself over which I struggle to provide any kind of pass to.
I did this. I chose the delusion over reality, repeatedly. And now I am smarting from the fallout of that choice. I feel lost and untethered. Unable to run away and unable to really handle sitting still. It is hard place to be honestly. But here I am nonetheless.
I know this time shall pass and I will gain insight I need from this whole delusional exercise. I am ok. It just doesn’t feel ok in this moment. It feels like everything is failing, and I am not able to summon up any more delusion to counter balance my dying delusion. And so all I am left with is a reality I do not like and wish was different.
Again, still.
Perhaps I am depressed. I mean, situational depression is a real thing. And my situation as of late has been hard in many ways and on many levels. It is a hard place to be when you feel like you need comfort, but you honestly don’t know how to do that, for yourself or how to ask anyone else either.
And it is in this place, this very hard and lonely spot that I realize the price of my delusion has come full circle. And I get to know once more that reality always wins. And genuflecting to delusion only drains you of vitality you need to live with the reality that will always prevail.
Can someone please remind me of this next time I take off into delusion city? I know, I will be prickly and kind of an ass. But I am begging you to stop me before I delude myself again. I am not sure I can survive another one of my follies, really.
At least that is how it feels this morning. So this is where I live with the reality I know all too well. The life I have is a result of the delusions I have forced and the realities I have evaded. And at least for now, there is nothing to be done except sit with this hardness and pray that the delicate, intricate and combustible innards of me can wait patiently to be disarmed. A task that is only possible for someone who willing remains tethered to reality, firmly rooted there, unmoveable when the heady clouds of delusions creep in once more.
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