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i wish i was worse
In i wish i was worse, Shirin Delalat invites us into the quiet revolution of choosing authenticity over approval.
Forget the tidy, redemptive memoir. This one is a scalpel disguised as a story. Darkly funny, deliberately provocative, and painfully precise. With chapters that feel like whispered confessions and inconvenient truths, Shirin takes you through the moments she stayed quiet when she shouldn't have, and the ones she didn't. And paid for it.
Some chapters will make you laugh. Some will sting. All of them are honest.
This isn’t a journey of redemption. It’s a rebellion. Because sometimes choosing yourself means disappointing everyone else. And sometimes burning bridges is the only way to see the road clearly.
What emerges is a portrait of a life lived on her own terms.
Unfiltered.
Unapologetic.
Entirely hers.
Forget the tidy, redemptive memoir. This one is a scalpel disguised as a story. Darkly funny, deliberately provocative, and painfully precise. With chapters that feel like whispered confessions and inconvenient truths, Shirin takes you through the moments she stayed quiet when she shouldn't have, and the ones she didn't. And paid for it.
Some chapters will make you laugh. Some will sting. All of them are honest.
This isn’t a journey of redemption. It’s a rebellion. Because sometimes choosing yourself means disappointing everyone else. And sometimes burning bridges is the only way to see the road clearly.
What emerges is a portrait of a life lived on her own terms.
Unfiltered.
Unapologetic.
Entirely hers.
- GenresNonfiction
228 pages, Paperback
Published November 9, 2025
13 people are currently reading
298 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews
December 4, 2025
After devouring this memoir in a single sitting and reaching the final line, I found myself whispering, “I wish I was worse too.” Then suddenly, I was on a trip down my own memory lane, hugging my arms around my body in that protective gesture we make when our invisible scars start to throb again—scars that stopped bleeding long ago, softened with time, yet never fully healed.
Shirin Delalat’s stunning memoir is heart-wrenching, brutally honest, liberating, bold, fierce, provocative, and exquisitely human. Her words don’t just touch you—they punch you, over and over, right in the gut. They shake you, scream at you, demand that you stop shrinking yourself to fit into the bare, suffocating spaces others leave for you. Her voice forces you to confront that lifelong habit of pleasing, smoothing over, staying small—but also gives you the courage to burn the old versions of yourself and rise from your own ashes with unfiltered authenticity.
I didn’t expect to love this memoir this much. I didn’t expect it to have teeth—to bite, to draw blood, to scorch, to shake the core of my own long-buried truths. But it does. Its rawness exposes the ways we let our vulnerabilities stay buried, hidden behind silence—how we let things slide to avoid conflict, how we say nothing to keep the peace, how we follow society’s script and call that “goodness.” But Shirin shows that sometimes being “good” is a myth, a costume, a quiet erasure. And sometimes being “bad”—being loud, direct, defiant, unapologetic—is simply the act of choosing yourself.
This memoir asks whether the idea of a “good person” is nothing more than an inherited illusion. Because if goodness means obediently following the guidelines others wrote for us, suppressing our true voice, performing a version of ourselves just to be palatable—then maybe being “bad” is actually being real.
Being worse is being awake.
She digs into the uncomfortable questions:
What happens when your corporate job subtly pushes you to become a minion of the system, stripping away little pieces of your humanity each day?
What happens when you grow up under generational expectations that suffocate your evolution?
What happens when people love an outdated, diluted version of you and resent the braver, louder, more honest one you're becoming?
Each chapter forces you to turn inward—to confront your own story. And the part I agreed with most is her raw, visceral truth about grief: that it does not arrive in tidy, labeled stages. Grief refuses to be organized. It claws at you, tears you apart, then settles into your bones in ways you learn to tolerate but never fully understand.
Like Shirin, I’ve cried silently in bathrooms because society teaches us to hide our sadness, to conceal our fragility, to be composed in the face of heartbreak. But that suppression is its own violence.
And then there’s the “big freaking C”—the cancer that threatened to dismantle her entirely. She describes facing it with a mix of terror, reverence, rage, and clarity. She lets us witness how illness cracked her open, reshaped her, and rebuilt her. Her fight to become a mother, her deep, sacred bond with her son Grayson, and the fierce, unconditional love she shares with KB—who accepts her exactly as she is, even at her worst—were some of the most inspiring sections of the book.
She also talks about the courage of burning bridges: leaving a workplace where you’re valued but no longer fulfilled, walking away from friendships that cannot accept your evolution. These chapters are master classes in choosing yourself—not because it's easy, but because it’s necessary.
And this sentence, for me, became a mantra I will hold onto forever:
“I’d rather be the kind of worse that tells uncomfortable truths than the kind of good that perpetuates comfortable lies.”
That line alone is worth tattooing on your soul.
This memoir is immersive, sharp, empowering, electric. It encourages you to stop chasing the perfect version of yourself and instead embrace the truest version, even when she’s messy, angry, loud, or “worse.” It reminds us that choosing ourselves is not selfish—it’s survival. We don’t owe the world our constant composure, our silence, or our emotional obedience.
We are allowed to scream.
We are allowed to burn.
We are allowed to show our teeth—and bite back.
Overall, this is one of the best memoirs I have read in years, and I wholeheartedly, passionately, urgently recommend it.
Five blazing stars from me—every single one earned.
medium.com
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Shirin Delalat’s stunning memoir is heart-wrenching, brutally honest, liberating, bold, fierce, provocative, and exquisitely human. Her words don’t just touch you—they punch you, over and over, right in the gut. They shake you, scream at you, demand that you stop shrinking yourself to fit into the bare, suffocating spaces others leave for you. Her voice forces you to confront that lifelong habit of pleasing, smoothing over, staying small—but also gives you the courage to burn the old versions of yourself and rise from your own ashes with unfiltered authenticity.
I didn’t expect to love this memoir this much. I didn’t expect it to have teeth—to bite, to draw blood, to scorch, to shake the core of my own long-buried truths. But it does. Its rawness exposes the ways we let our vulnerabilities stay buried, hidden behind silence—how we let things slide to avoid conflict, how we say nothing to keep the peace, how we follow society’s script and call that “goodness.” But Shirin shows that sometimes being “good” is a myth, a costume, a quiet erasure. And sometimes being “bad”—being loud, direct, defiant, unapologetic—is simply the act of choosing yourself.
This memoir asks whether the idea of a “good person” is nothing more than an inherited illusion. Because if goodness means obediently following the guidelines others wrote for us, suppressing our true voice, performing a version of ourselves just to be palatable—then maybe being “bad” is actually being real.
Being worse is being awake.
She digs into the uncomfortable questions:
What happens when your corporate job subtly pushes you to become a minion of the system, stripping away little pieces of your humanity each day?
What happens when you grow up under generational expectations that suffocate your evolution?
What happens when people love an outdated, diluted version of you and resent the braver, louder, more honest one you're becoming?
Each chapter forces you to turn inward—to confront your own story. And the part I agreed with most is her raw, visceral truth about grief: that it does not arrive in tidy, labeled stages. Grief refuses to be organized. It claws at you, tears you apart, then settles into your bones in ways you learn to tolerate but never fully understand.
Like Shirin, I’ve cried silently in bathrooms because society teaches us to hide our sadness, to conceal our fragility, to be composed in the face of heartbreak. But that suppression is its own violence.
And then there’s the “big freaking C”—the cancer that threatened to dismantle her entirely. She describes facing it with a mix of terror, reverence, rage, and clarity. She lets us witness how illness cracked her open, reshaped her, and rebuilt her. Her fight to become a mother, her deep, sacred bond with her son Grayson, and the fierce, unconditional love she shares with KB—who accepts her exactly as she is, even at her worst—were some of the most inspiring sections of the book.
She also talks about the courage of burning bridges: leaving a workplace where you’re valued but no longer fulfilled, walking away from friendships that cannot accept your evolution. These chapters are master classes in choosing yourself—not because it's easy, but because it’s necessary.
And this sentence, for me, became a mantra I will hold onto forever:
“I’d rather be the kind of worse that tells uncomfortable truths than the kind of good that perpetuates comfortable lies.”
That line alone is worth tattooing on your soul.
This memoir is immersive, sharp, empowering, electric. It encourages you to stop chasing the perfect version of yourself and instead embrace the truest version, even when she’s messy, angry, loud, or “worse.” It reminds us that choosing ourselves is not selfish—it’s survival. We don’t owe the world our constant composure, our silence, or our emotional obedience.
We are allowed to scream.
We are allowed to burn.
We are allowed to show our teeth—and bite back.
Overall, this is one of the best memoirs I have read in years, and I wholeheartedly, passionately, urgently recommend it.
Five blazing stars from me—every single one earned.
medium.com
April 11, 2025
My Wife's Book Will Get You Uninvited From All the Right Places (Disclosure: I'm the author's husband)
I just finished reading my wife's book. Now I understand why half our social circle has mysteriously disappeared.
First off, yes, I'm married to Shirin. No, she didn't make me write this. Yes, I value my life enough to mention I enjoyed the book. But honestly? It's good. Annoyingly good. I stayed up all night reading it, which is a first for me. My usual reading pattern involves three pages followed by immediate unconsciousness.
"i wish i was worse" isn't some tear-jerking journey toward self-improvement. It's the literary equivalent of watching someone torch the unwritten rules we all pretend to care about while offering zero apologies and somehow making you laugh in the process.
The Shirin in these pages is the same woman who lives in my house. The one who tells you exactly what she thinks whether you asked or not. The woman who changed my mind about marriage when I thought that was impossible.
Fair warning: this book might ruin your ability to tolerate nonsense. Side effects include suddenly noticing how often you say sorry, questioning why you're still friends with certain people, and developing an allergy to bullshit disguised as "constructive feedback."
I've watched Shirin live these stories. I've witnessed the fallout when she chooses authenticity over politeness. Sometimes it's messy. Usually it's worth it. Always it's entertaining (at least for me, safely watching from the sidelines).
Read it when you're tired of playing nice.
I just finished reading my wife's book. Now I understand why half our social circle has mysteriously disappeared.
First off, yes, I'm married to Shirin. No, she didn't make me write this. Yes, I value my life enough to mention I enjoyed the book. But honestly? It's good. Annoyingly good. I stayed up all night reading it, which is a first for me. My usual reading pattern involves three pages followed by immediate unconsciousness.
"i wish i was worse" isn't some tear-jerking journey toward self-improvement. It's the literary equivalent of watching someone torch the unwritten rules we all pretend to care about while offering zero apologies and somehow making you laugh in the process.
The Shirin in these pages is the same woman who lives in my house. The one who tells you exactly what she thinks whether you asked or not. The woman who changed my mind about marriage when I thought that was impossible.
Fair warning: this book might ruin your ability to tolerate nonsense. Side effects include suddenly noticing how often you say sorry, questioning why you're still friends with certain people, and developing an allergy to bullshit disguised as "constructive feedback."
I've watched Shirin live these stories. I've witnessed the fallout when she chooses authenticity over politeness. Sometimes it's messy. Usually it's worth it. Always it's entertaining (at least for me, safely watching from the sidelines).
Read it when you're tired of playing nice.
November 14, 2025
“I Wish I Was Worse” was such a ride — the kind of book that has you laughing out loud one minute, completely intrigued the next, and suddenly ugly crying without warning. It’s feral, sentimental, and unhinged in the best way possible. A genuinely great read that stays with you long after you’ve turned the last page.
Shirin’s writing is so engaging that you can’t help but want more. This honest peek into her personal, family, and social life makes you feel like you truly know her. Meeting her in person at her book release party was such an honor — she’s just as captivating and genuine as the pages she writes.
Shirin’s writing is so engaging that you can’t help but want more. This honest peek into her personal, family, and social life makes you feel like you truly know her. Meeting her in person at her book release party was such an honor — she’s just as captivating and genuine as the pages she writes.
November 9, 2025
This book was a reckoning amongst the ruins of the sh*t I thought I had figured out, excavating things I definitely don’t have figured out, wasn’t ready to feel and can’t escape.
I loved it. I hated it too, sometimes. But it was so visceral, so powerful and so REAL that I couldn’t look away. This book is art. I’ll probably never read it again, and I’ll definitely never stop thinking about it. I’ve already preordered it because I can’t stand the thought of not having it here. Just in case I forget, or I need to be worse.
I loved it. I hated it too, sometimes. But it was so visceral, so powerful and so REAL that I couldn’t look away. This book is art. I’ll probably never read it again, and I’ll definitely never stop thinking about it. I’ve already preordered it because I can’t stand the thought of not having it here. Just in case I forget, or I need to be worse.
December 31, 2025
enjoyed this memoir about a woman who refuses to behave properly. the author seems unhinged in exactly the right way. relatability may vary depending on how much you enjoy making people uncomfortable
December 22, 2025
In “I wish I was worse,” Shirin shares her journey of love, loss, heartbreak and triumph. The reader is invited along on the journey of unraveling societal norms, “good girl” expectation, and people pleasing in a bold invitation to “be worse.” While Shirin’s “diary” is exceptionally well written, her experiences are relatable to anyone who has ever had a human experience.
It’s clear through her stories that Shirin’s father was an extraordinary man and influence, supporting and encouraging a little rebellion and a LOT of being fiercely herself. If only we all had that kind of love and encouragement from an early age!
This book should be required reading for everyone, but especially to recovering people pleasers and those shrinking into boxes in which they don’t belong; there are few books that encourage rebellion with such heart.
Shirin and “i wish I was worse,” are the most heartfelt, relatable influence to any reader to be themselves, contrarian, worse.
It’s clear through her stories that Shirin’s father was an extraordinary man and influence, supporting and encouraging a little rebellion and a LOT of being fiercely herself. If only we all had that kind of love and encouragement from an early age!
This book should be required reading for everyone, but especially to recovering people pleasers and those shrinking into boxes in which they don’t belong; there are few books that encourage rebellion with such heart.
Shirin and “i wish I was worse,” are the most heartfelt, relatable influence to any reader to be themselves, contrarian, worse.
January 3, 2026
This book was everything I needed it to be. It was raw, authentic, and reassuring. In my efforts to remain true to myself, I too wish I was worse.
December 8, 2025
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.5
November 16, 2025
I thoroughly enjoyed the tone and originality of this book — I Wish I Was Worse feels sharp, intimate, and refreshingly different from the usual “tidy, redemptive” memoirs. Shirin Delalat writes with a voice that’s both vulnerable and provocative, balancing dark humor with painful honesty.
Some chapters felt so precise and resonant; others didn’t land quite as strongly for me, which is why I settled on a 3-star rating.
Still, this is an impressive and bold debut that challenges the reader to rethink what it means to be “good,” “liked,” or “acceptable.” It’s not about redemption - it’s about rebellion, and Delalat captures that beautifully.
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC in exchange for an honest review.
Some chapters felt so precise and resonant; others didn’t land quite as strongly for me, which is why I settled on a 3-star rating.
Still, this is an impressive and bold debut that challenges the reader to rethink what it means to be “good,” “liked,” or “acceptable.” It’s not about redemption - it’s about rebellion, and Delalat captures that beautifully.
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC in exchange for an honest review.
October 26, 2025
Disclaimer: I'm friends with the author. However, my friendship with her doesn't affect this review whatsoever because if she read it and knew I was BS'ing, she'd be even more pissed off. So obviously, I'm not sugarcoating anything, which actually makes perfect sense for this book.
I've noticed a slight trend in my reading this year. Call it reactionary, call it retaliatory, call it self-discovery--whatever. Or maybe it's just that I'm tired and angry on a lot of different levels and I'm drawn to these stories about gloriously messy and extra characters who either don't hide themselves or learn that hiding their true selves is far more trouble than it's worth.
i wish i was worse follows this trend with one notable distinction: it's not fiction. now, if you know me, you know I don't read much nonfiction. This largely has to do with the general state of the world and the fact that I actually read trial transcripts/cases/statutes for my job and all that leaves me without the desire or mental energy to read nonfiction. But every once in awhile, I make exceptions and because I do so infrequently, those exceptions had better be worth it.
i wish i was worse is worth it.
More a collection of essays and reflections than a memoir, i wish i was worse is told through Delalat's raw and unflinching examination of her past experiences: disappointments, mistakes, and the lessons learned therefrom. There's also grief that's borne of different losses. All of these experiences have not shaped Delalat so much as forged her into a woman who is unrepentant about who she is, what she expects, and what she wants.
The message of the book is set out early: "Don't mistake this for another guide to becoming better. This isn't advice. It's a dare. A dare to become worse: louder, messier, feral, diabolical." This is not because you hate yourself or you hate others--it's a dare not to care about what other people think. It's a book about loving yourself enough to be authentically yourself, no matter what, and trusting that you'll find the people who will love you not in spite of it, but because of it.
Delalat's voice is undeniable, with sarcasm, wit, humor, self-deprecation, and just enough tenderness to keep things real. Along with the rage and being fed-up with expectations of women, there's also some genuine laugh-out-loud moments. And there's love--lots of love. It's in every page, every word, and it's what drives her to be the best worst version of herself. Even throughout conflicts and heartbreaks and loss, Delalat stays stubbornly, defiantly true to herself and refuses to be better at making herself small for other people's comfort. She is worse in the absolute best sense of the word.
Thank you to Shirin Delalat and NetGalley for the eARC!
I've noticed a slight trend in my reading this year. Call it reactionary, call it retaliatory, call it self-discovery--whatever. Or maybe it's just that I'm tired and angry on a lot of different levels and I'm drawn to these stories about gloriously messy and extra characters who either don't hide themselves or learn that hiding their true selves is far more trouble than it's worth.
i wish i was worse follows this trend with one notable distinction: it's not fiction. now, if you know me, you know I don't read much nonfiction. This largely has to do with the general state of the world and the fact that I actually read trial transcripts/cases/statutes for my job and all that leaves me without the desire or mental energy to read nonfiction. But every once in awhile, I make exceptions and because I do so infrequently, those exceptions had better be worth it.
i wish i was worse is worth it.
More a collection of essays and reflections than a memoir, i wish i was worse is told through Delalat's raw and unflinching examination of her past experiences: disappointments, mistakes, and the lessons learned therefrom. There's also grief that's borne of different losses. All of these experiences have not shaped Delalat so much as forged her into a woman who is unrepentant about who she is, what she expects, and what she wants.
The message of the book is set out early: "Don't mistake this for another guide to becoming better. This isn't advice. It's a dare. A dare to become worse: louder, messier, feral, diabolical." This is not because you hate yourself or you hate others--it's a dare not to care about what other people think. It's a book about loving yourself enough to be authentically yourself, no matter what, and trusting that you'll find the people who will love you not in spite of it, but because of it.
Delalat's voice is undeniable, with sarcasm, wit, humor, self-deprecation, and just enough tenderness to keep things real. Along with the rage and being fed-up with expectations of women, there's also some genuine laugh-out-loud moments. And there's love--lots of love. It's in every page, every word, and it's what drives her to be the best worst version of herself. Even throughout conflicts and heartbreaks and loss, Delalat stays stubbornly, defiantly true to herself and refuses to be better at making herself small for other people's comfort. She is worse in the absolute best sense of the word.
Thank you to Shirin Delalat and NetGalley for the eARC!
November 28, 2025
I bought this book from my friend Shirin, who brought me an autographed copy. I was STOKED when she handed it to me at the bmx track, and I literally started reading it that night. I went home and finished it the very next day in one sitting. The way I laughed, and cried, and hollered, and related to this book was something I never expected. I must have blown up Shirin’s phone over a dozen times that day I read it. It’s absolutely FANTASTIC. It’s so relatable, and she sucks you in to her story. I could NOT believe everything she went through. I’m amazed by her tenacity to walk through this life, head up, wishing she was worse. And same sister. I wish I too was worse. I loved this book. So good. Getchu a copy. You will NOT be disappointed.
January 2, 2026
i wish i was worse is a must read. This book checks all the boxes! It’s a passionate memoir filled with real feelings that cut deep into the dark corners of life where emotions are raw and reflections are clear. This book is written so eloquently my heart broke with the author as every page read easily and left me wanting to read more. Number one Christmas gift this season i wish I was worse.
February 7, 2026
not for me - clearly very honest but also somewhat trite
February 15, 2026
I wasn’t expecting a memoir to wreck me on a Tuesday.
A friend of mine wrote a book called i wish i was worse, and I opened it thinking I’d read a chapter before bed.
I finished half of it that night.
It’s about motherhood, grief, friendship breakups, marriage, cancer, and the quiet violence of trying to be “good” all the time. There’s an entire chapter about breastfeeding and the shame women are expected to carry around it that I’m still thinking about. But what really got under my skin was this question running through it all: what if we stopped performing for people who were never going to love us anyway?
There were moments I had to put it down. Not because it was heavy or dramatic. Because it was honest in that way where you recognize yourself and wish you didn’t.
If you’ve ever smiled through something that should’ve made you scream…
If you’ve ever been called “too much” by someone who wasn’t enough…
Read this book.
A friend of mine wrote a book called i wish i was worse, and I opened it thinking I’d read a chapter before bed.
I finished half of it that night.
It’s about motherhood, grief, friendship breakups, marriage, cancer, and the quiet violence of trying to be “good” all the time. There’s an entire chapter about breastfeeding and the shame women are expected to carry around it that I’m still thinking about. But what really got under my skin was this question running through it all: what if we stopped performing for people who were never going to love us anyway?
There were moments I had to put it down. Not because it was heavy or dramatic. Because it was honest in that way where you recognize yourself and wish you didn’t.
If you’ve ever smiled through something that should’ve made you scream…
If you’ve ever been called “too much” by someone who wasn’t enough…
Read this book.
Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews