Letter to My Teenage Self

Dear young, awkward, skinny Sue,

First of all, don't freak out, but you turn out to be 33 years old and not yet married. Yeah, you don't get married in your early twenties and have a bunch of kids. Didn't expect THAT, did you? But that is the least of all the unexpected things your life holds! I have some news, and some advice, and some lessons I want to share (because people in their thirties like to do that kind of thing).

1. Stop obsessing about romance, marriage and crushes. It's not just something people say to make themselves feel better about being single, but there REALLY REALLY is a LOT more to life than romance. There are SO many good and exciting and challenging things to do and learn and explore, and YOU ARE WASTING YOUR TIME READING ROMANCE NOVELS AND WATCHING CHICK FLICKS.  Did I say that loud enough? Did you hear me? Put that book down (or even better, throw it away), and jump into something more challenging and interesting.

2. Life gets better once you cross 25. There is nothing like the confidence of the late twenties and thirties. Man, you just won't care anymore! Remember when you were excruciatingly aware of your awkward gait, and self-conscious body language, and you used to practise walking confidently on your way home from college? That totally stops being a thing. You start fitting into your own skin. Also, bonus, you finally start having regular good hair days, and even know how to look pretty without too much effort. But sorry, you never really figure out make-up and how to switch on a photogenic smile, but that's okay. You're beautiful and you finally believe it.

Making weird faces at cameras for three decades

3. You need to start working on discipline. It's not something that magically appears when you cross a certain age. If you don't exercise those self-control muscles now, you will be struggling with it fifteen years later. You have GOT to learn to switch self-indulgence for self-denial. I promise you the fruits of self-denial are much much sweeter. If you don't know where to start, make a daily schedule, set goals for yourself, and make yourself accountable to someone. Start something, and keep at it. It will get easier.

4. Adventures are not as scary as you think they are. Guess what, you travel to the US three times, live in the Philippines for two years, leave your home and family to start afresh many times in MANY different homes, and with many different sets of people, and you actually enjoy a lot of that. You are sometimes homesick and you make mistakes, but you also make lifelong friends, and learn to survive on your own, you learn to travel (although home is still your favorite place), and to figure out how to get things done when you need to without paralyzing anxiety. Life begins at the end of your comfort zone. If you cling to it too firmly, you will never grow or change or become the woman you were meant to be.

Adventures: Even boring introverts need them

5. Your faith means nothing if it is not transformed into LOVE. Yes, I know you are super into apologetics, and understanding and explaining the truth of the Catholic faith. And you may be happy to know that 33 year old Sue still loves the beauty and the truth revealed by Jesus through the Catholic Church. But reading blogs and hanging out on Catholic forums and arguing with people is never going to change the world. Look for ways to love people. Fill up your time with service to the poor. Spend more time sharing your faith than defending it. I promise it's worth it.

6. You don't land up marrying ANY of the many crushes you have now. Instead, you meet and fall in love with a doctor (I know, what?!!) from a very different culture than you. You're 32 when you meet him, but all the experiences and lessons of the previous decade have prepared you for this man, and the new life God is inviting you into with him. You can't skip steps. God works things out exactly when and how He wants to, so stop worrying or obsessing about it and live fully the present moment. There is no shame in being single. By the way, when romance finally happens, it is exactly as sweet and beautiful as you hoped it would be, and makes the years of waiting worth it.

Romance in your thirties is just as sweet

7. You never have everything totally figured out. Apparently, nobody does. There are many unanswered questions, self-doubt and struggles with impostor syndrome, problems to solve, decisions to make at EVERY stage of your life. It's not that you magically find your one true career or calling and then live it our perfectly. You're a teacher, a blogger, a full-time Catholic worker, but you will soon be a wife, hopefully a mother, and probably an author (yes, you're supposed to be working on a book). You may do other things and be other things too as life goes on. You don't have to have it all figured out. You just need to ask God what's next, and be faithful to that thing.

Life is good, young Sue! Be happy! Don't be afraid. Stay close to Jesus, and trust that He's going to help you figure things out. And like they say, survive, chuckle, show affection.

P.S. You're no longer young, awkward or skinny.

Related Reading

Breaking Out of the Bubble

Why I’m Glad I Wasn’t the Pretty Girl

Three Everyday Situations That Stress Socially Anxious Introverts Out

I promise I’m not a complete mess. The calm and capable Sue that many of you know is not just a facade. I’ve learned over the years to deal with anxious and awkward feelings and for the most part, I don’t find the world at large scary and intimidating. That said, I still have remnants of social anxiety and a lot more self-awareness than I used to, and a willingness and desire to talk it out (sorry, fam). So here are some of those situations, just so we Socially Anxious Introverts can feel less alone (while still actually being alone as we read this post on our phones).

Usually only for female introverts: Beauty Salons 

Or as we used to call ‘em, beauty parlours. You know, the place we go to get hair removed from various parts of our bodies as dictated by society (why aren’t unibrows cool yet?), not to mention get our hair trimmed, cut and coloured, our nails manicured and polished, our faces.. um.. treated.. whatever. I’m no beauty expert. In fact, I probably go to these places a lot less than most women I know. Why? Not because I don’t like looking pretty (according to current social norms of pretty). Not even because I’m a sissy who can’t handle the pain of having hair extracted from my forehead. I grit my teeth and offer it up, while pondering whether suffering for the sake of beauty can simultaneously have any spiritual value, and concluding that ‘nothing offered to God is wasted’.

No, my real problem is that every trip to the local beauty salon is a scary adventure fraught with socially awkward situations, kind of like crossing a minefield and trying very hard not to blow up. Extroverts probably think I’m crazy. “Yay! People I might know and can chat too!” Introverts instead think, “Aaargh! People I may know! People who may know me! Not very well! People who know my mum. People who don’t like me! Or my mum! Any and all of these combinations of people could be there when I walk in, or walk in as I sit there defenseless. Small talk! To talk or not to talk? Did that person just not notice me or are they ignoring me? Or do they think am I ignoring them?”

I kid you not, I once went to a beauty salon, saw someone who I thought I knew and had not parted on good terms with. However, I wasn’t totally sure it was her. She looked different. Perhaps a different haircut? Or was it a totally different person? Since we didn’t part well, if it WAS her, I needed to say hello so as to make peace. If it wasn’t her, er... that could be awkward. The awkwardness was compounded by the fact that she was totally ignoring me. But I couldn’t just let it go. I had to do something.

So this is what I did. I said “Hello” in her direction in a not very loud voice. My rationale was that if it WAS her, she would be aware of my presence, would hear me and look up. Common courtesy would compel her to respond to my greeting, and even if she still bore me ill will, well, at least we had said hello. If she was a stranger, she would think she misheard or that I was talking to someone else, and she would just continue staring ahead at the mirror.

She didn’t respond. Okay, maybe she was a stranger? Or maybe she just hadn’t heard me because I wasn’t loud enough? Or maybe she hated my guts so much that she was ignoring my small attempt at reconciliation? AAARGHHHH! So much tension and anxiety! I still don’t know to this day if it was her or not.

This is what I think would be a great idea. Beauty salons with individual cubicles. Why is this not a thing yet? C’mon, I’m sure I’m not the only one with this problem!

Only for Catholic introverts: Receiving Communion 

You think I’m joking, right? I’m the Catholic who can wax eloquent about the beauty of God becoming bread so that He can satisfy our hunger, of the privilege of receiving Him in the Eucharist, of the very real transforming power I experience after receiving Him in this way. And yet, I am not immune from the very real awkwardness connected with actually physically getting into a line and receiving the Host into my body.

First of all, hand or tongue? Lots of Catholics have lots of strong opinions about this, but the fact of the matter is that the Church allows either as long as Jesus in the Host is received with reverence and faith. So then it comes down to practicality. I used to feel like there was more likelihood of it dropping if I received it on the tongue, so I took it in my hand. But then in recent years I decided that I would try receiving it on my tongue. As long as I made up my mind beforehand, and didn’t debate with myself all the way to the front of the Church. (Yeah, I told you my mind is nuts.)

But even after deciding to receive on my tongue, there are so many factors. Like am I opening my mouth right, sticking my tongue out far enough, at the right angle? Because if I get it wrong, the gross and awkward result is that the priest or extraordinary minister’s hand touches my tongue euggh euggh eughh. And then goes on to continue to distribute to Host to hundreds of others. Euggh.

What about the many times I have to figure out whether the priest of extraordinary minister has forgotten to say, “The Body of Christ”, or whether it is merely his timing that is off? Because there I am waiting to say “Amen”, while the impatient priest is waiting for me to open my mouth and stick my tongue out. It is a very delicately timed operation with too many potential ways to fail. I salute you, distributors of Communion, for bravely facing the awkwardness day after day for the sake of spiritually feeding the followers of Christ.

Apart from the awkwardness of the Communion line, there is also the awkwardness of reacting to liturgical abuse, like when the priest passed the communion bowl around at a chapel Mass while communicants ‘took’ Jesus instead of receiving Him. I just wanted to focus on receiving Jesus, instead my mind was racked with questions like, “If I know this is abuse, should I just pass the bowl without receiving? Or go up to the priest and ask that he gave it to me (in the way the Church requires)? Or just take it as it is HIS abuse, not mine, and no matter what, it is still Jesus?” I know, I know, I should stop over-thinking things I can't control, and not sweat the small stuff, and let things go, etc, but more easily said than done.

I wish I could just be caught up in ecstasy like St. Catherine of Siena when she received Communion, but alas, I’m not there yet.

For all introverts: Shopping 

I’m not talking about big supermarkets where you can wander down aisles picking things off shopping racks and popping them into shopping carts. That’s a dream situation for introverts, second only to online shopping. I’m talking about the average Indian shopping experience that involves plenty of conversation, interaction and relating.

When I was a kid, I had such a horror of shops that I would go to extreme lengths to offer any of my siblings bribes to go to the shop for me. If my love of junk food surpassed my fear of shops, I would reluctantly drag myself there practising all the way what exactly I would say, what the shopkeeper’s possible responses would be, and what my response would be in each situation. This phobia was probably caused by the fact that I didn’t speak Hindi as a child, and most shopkeepers didn’t speak English. Also little kids usually got ignored, and were made to wait the longest. Also, my parents hate shopping so that may have had something to do with it as well.

But as an adult who has mostly learned to get around, there are varying degrees of annoying and stressful shopping situations.

Exhausting: Being overstimulated by all the people, options, colours, noise and making rash decisions or no decisions as a result. Or in one unfortunate case throwing up in the middle of a shopping center because it was all too much. (Shout out to my resourceful sister J who rushed into a shop and asked for a plastic bag just in time.)

Annoying: Shop assistants who hover and keep asking you questions or shoving various items of clothing at you (this is usually a clothing store problem). Usually I walk out very soon after this happens.

Awkward: Male shopkeepers at lingerie shops whom you have to converse with about bra size and panty style eeshk.

Frustrating: Having a limited budget and having to try on shoes after shoes after shoes that are not your style and then feeling so stressed out that you just buy the least ugly of the lot, which are still pretty ugly and then you go home and vow you will never go shopping again.

Upsetting: Having a shopping companion who hates shopping just as much as you, and hangs back at every shop y’all enter so that you have to do the talking, but then gets frustrated with your indecisiveness and starts pushing you to make a decision which leads you back to the previous situation.

Stressful: Having to shop on behalf of someone else, try to figure out what exactly they meant when they described a particular style, and hope against hope that if you make another stress-induced extravagant purchase they won’t be mad at you, and hopefully can exchange it and never ask you for such a favour again.

This, friends, is why I thanked God when online shopping came to India about six years ago. But don’t get me started on communicating with online shopping delivery men.

So yes, being a Socially Anxious Introvert is a thing. If you identified with any of these scenarios, you just got yourself a new label! Congratulations!

Other awkwardness and social anxiety related posts:

Social Awkwardness: The Confession Stories 
Awkward Comments in India 
More Awkwardness 
Let's Talk About Awkward Hugs
An Indian Catholic in Catholic America 
Thoughts of an Introvert at a Party 
An INTJ's Guide to Praise and Worship

An INTJ's Guide to Praise and Worship

As an INTJ who grew up in the Charismatic Renewal, I have faced and battled with many of the natural clashes of this personality with a very demonstrative and uninhibited style of prayer. My theory is that 'T' (thinking) type personalities gravitate more towards more structured, less demonstrative and intellectual forms of prayer like Adoration, the Rosary, Lectio Divina (reflect and share about bible passages.. yes, please!), etc, and 'F' (feeling) type personalities gravitate towards more ‘touchy-feely’ forms of prayer- praise and worship, raising hands, holding hands at the Our Father, any kind of feel good music, etc. But I think 'T's sometimes need to learn how to let go of control a little, and 'F's need to build their faith on a more solid rock than their emotions that can easily be swayed. Anyway all that is to bring you back to how I as an INTJ have survived (and sometimes thrived) in what seems like an odd style of prayer. So here I am to answer your INTJ questions that deafeningly and irresistibly pop up just as you are right in the middle of a hymn at a prayer meeting.

INTJ: Wait.. what exactly does it mean to 'GIVE God glory and honour, magnify him' etc etc? How on earth can I 'lift God up' if He is already pretty much the most powerful being that exists? I exalt Him? What?

INTJ Guru: Great question! You CAN'T actually make God bigger than He already is. Even though it sounds like that it what you are saying, that's not actually what the words are pointing to. What you ARE called to do, is look at Him, acknowledge Who He is, in all His goodness and beauty, and allow Him to be magnified in your own soul, and thus in the world. It’s like opening the windows, and letting the beauty and awesomeness of a gorgeous sunshiny day into your home. It was there all along, it just wasn’t in your home yet.

INTJ: But what exactly is the point of all this worshipping? Wouldn’t it be better to just go out and do some good deeds? I know- I’m ‘made to worship God’. But isn’t that a little narcissistic on God’s part?

INTJ Guru: If God is really Love, and love is all about willing the good of the other, then there has to be a better explanation for God’s call for us to worship Him. God is always about doing what’s good for US. So how on earth can praise or worship be good for us? It’s simple- praise and worship frees us from our OWN narcissistic navel-gazing, from being imprisoned in the cell of our own ego, and frees us to see ourselves and God as we REALLY are. It’s a chance to get some perspective. Like dragging your kids away from their social media, and inviting them to take a look at the star-filled night sky, or the view from the top of a mountain. God knows how shallow and self-obsessed we are, and He says, “Look at Me, get a glimpse of the universe at it really is, and you will know who you really are.”

INTJ: That’s great, but a lot of the time I’m expected to sing songs and speak praises when I feel nothing at all. Why speak words of love when I feel no love? It reeks of hypocrisy.

INTJ Guru: Ah ha! You of all people, O INTJ should know that love is not a feeling but a choice. Praise is an act, not a feeling. Worship is a choice to give oneself regardless of what one is feeling in the moment. As C.S. Lewis said, “Faith is the art of holding on to the things your reason has accepted in spite of your changing moods.”And that right there is the secret to entering into true praise and worship.

INTJ: Okay, okay. But seriously, some of the songs the PnW leader chooses are truly cringe-worthy. They lack any value, doctrinal or aesthetic. Some seem childish and shallow. Every fibre in me screams “No! I can’t do this!”

INTJ Guru: O INTJ, I truly sympathize. Our minds and hearts and will are not disconnected. One affects the other. I have a couple of suggestions. One is, you could gently suggest a couple of solid and truly reverent and holy worship songs to your music leader. Share how they bless you and draw you to a more meaningful act of surrender.

However, you are still most likely going to be stuck in situations where you can’t do anything about it. In those cases, dear INTJ, as ridiculous as it may seem to other personality types, THAT is the cross God is asking you to embrace. You can offer to Him even your cringes, and choose to believe that nothing offered to God is wasted. Most likely, He is doing one of those cool-but-painful sanctifying things that He does. Although, if it's heretical, you're allowed to just not join in for that part of the song. But cheesy you can do.

INTJ: What about the whole hand raising expectation? Is there some guide to that? The deeper the emotion, the higher the arms? There seems to be an unspoken rule that at certain parts of certain songs everyone raises their arms. What about when the prayer leader demands that everyone raise their hands, or shout ‘Alleluia’, or clap, or some such thing?

INTJ Guru: I prefer to avoid the kind of prayer meetings or groups that are too directional about such things. Maybe it works for some people. But not you and me, O INTJ. When in doubt, remember that you are free. You don’t HAVE to do what everybody is doing. The safest thing is to close your eyes, and just do what you feel God is asking you to do in the moment. Raising your arms can help express an inner act of openness or surrender. Again, our body, mind and spirit are connected. So don’t dismiss outward forms of prayer.

INTJ: What about the whole ‘free praise’ thing? My eyes are semi-shut, and I mumble along while I hear people say things like ‘Mighty God! Holy One! King of Kings and Lord of Lords! All glory belongs to You! You are the Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End!’What even?!!! Do they memorize a list of acceptable things to say? Those words and phrases feel so meaningless to me. Do I go on a bathroom break during these times, or hope that no one can hear clearly that my free praise goes something like ‘God, Ihavenoideawhattosaysopleasegetmethroughthis…’?

INTJ Guru: It might be more helpful to pick a few phrases that you DO identify with, ways that YOU have experienced God, and say those aloud instead. As you grow and experience God in new ways, you can add more ways to the list. For example, ‘You are beautiful, and all that is beautiful comes from Your heart. You are slow to anger and full of mercy. Your love is so precious to me. How good and patient You are. I love you so much. I praise You. I trust You. I believe in You. You are more than enough for me.’ It doesn’t have to be fancy or complicated or what anyone else is saying. You don’t have to shout. But again, speaking those words aloud is a way of internalizing and solidifying the truth that your mind has accepted. It’s also a way to let go of the control and image of control we cling to so tightly. Yes indeed, O INTJ, as a man or woman of faith, you do indeed have to be willing to look and sound just a little stupid.

INTJ: You are throwing the word ‘worship’ around a little too easily. I’m Catholic. Isn’t Mass the best and truest form of worship? In fact, isn’t Jesus the only one who can offer acceptable worship to the Father?

INTJ Guru: Welcome to the Catholic Church, my friend, the Church of ‘Both.., and.’ Worship can be offered both inside and outside of the celebration of the Eucharist. The Eucharist is the ‘culmination of the men offer to Christ and through Him to the Father in the Holy Spirit’. (CCC 1325) That means we can praise Him, give ourselves to Him in spirit and in truth, with song and vocal praise, in tongues and with arms raised, and all of that is brought to its culmination in the Eucharist, when Jesus accepts what we offer, joins it to His sacrifice on the Cross and offers it to the Father. The only problem would be if we replaced the Mass with what’s commonly known as ‘praise and worship’, or if we just went to Mass as an obligation and considered prayer meetings to be our only true worship. That would be misguided and counter-productive.

INTJ: Thanks, INTJ Guru. One more- How does one ‘climb this mountain with one’s hands wide open’? I have climbed mountains, and I need my hands to grab at rocks and bushes and haul myself up. Climbing a mountain with my hands wide open? (Also, they mean arms, right?) Sounds like a physical impossibility to me. And don’t tell me to ‘lean not on my own understanding’.

INTJ Guru: There are two possibilities. One is- yes, it’s impossible… but not for God. So the very seeming impossibility and helplessness is what you are called to reflect on. Not an adequate answer you say? Then do what I do- picture yourself climbing a mountain, arms stretched out, and God grabbing your hand, and guiding you up. I have had some pleasant experiences of chivalrous men helping me climb mountains, and it usually involved some amount of hand-holding. Mountain climbing can be sweaty, exhausting, thirsty, and scary work. You can reach halfway up and then your shaky legs collapse and you decide you want to die. Now picture our big, awesome God grabbing you by the hand and hauling you up, and you pretty much have a good picture of my faith life.

INTJ: Okay, so visuals and analogies help. One last question. I don't HAVE to sing ‘they will dance for joy like we are dancing now’ if no one is actually dancing, right?

INTJ Guru: No, you don’t. You can compromise by humming along. You could sway and shift feet and sing it, but then you kind of hope that when the world has seen the light, they would be dancing slightly more energetically and dramatically and a lot less awkwardly. So maybe just don’t.

Now go forth and worship!

Thoughts of an Introvert at a Party

I got invited to the birthday party of a friend of a friend, and inspired by the enthusiasm of my roommates and the promise of jiving, I rashly said yes, even though in the past three weeks I have been living in a whirlwind of social occasions.

Pre-party:

"A party that starts at 8.30 pm? That's almost bedtime! Why would any party START at 8.30?"

"I'm so tired. So tired. Sooo tiiired."


"Didn't I just read an article about introverts that said introverts can survive on two to three social occasions per week.. I've been in four social situations JUST TODAY!"

Trying to pep myself up:

"I can do this! There'll be dancing and it's fun to look cute!"

Moment of panic as I arrive and see a bunch of strangers walking into the house:

"What am I doing here? Why am I doing this to myself? Why am I voluntarily putting myself in a social situation with a bunch of people I don't know???"

As I walk in and see one of my oldest friends:

"PRAISE YOU, JESUS! I KNOW SOMEONE!"

Sitting awkwardly in a sub-room of the main party hall, staring into the distance. Small talk, making a small effort to introduce myself to people, then lapsing into silence again.

 "The underneath of that couch looks like a good place to hide. Whoops, introvert thought. At least I haven't located the bathroom."

Moved to main hall with disco lights and blaring music. After making small talk for a while, I find a plastic chair to be my Comfort Zone, clutch my Sprite and settle back into introspective silence.

"Ah. So this is why I usually hate parties."

"How come the other introverts I know don't seem to be bothered by this setting? It's like they've accepted that this is how life is. But it doesn't have to be!"

"How would I optimize this party? The lights would be brighter, but not too bright, so that you can sit in a corner without feeling like you look awkward. No disco lights, that's so overstimulating. The music would be softer so you could actually have conversations without yelling. There would be some kind of game that would make it easier to talk to people you don't know, without having to randomly go up and introduce yourself by yelling over the music. And there would be some way to encourage all the guys who are able to dance to go up and dance with the girls who are longing to get on the dance floor. We don't want commitment, WE JUST WANT TO DANCE!"

"Why is nobody dancing? What kind of boring old people are you?"

"Oh my gosh. I'm at a party with 30 and 40 year olds. I'M SO OLD!"

"Wow. Indians are really socially awkward. No one is initiating conversations with anyone. Except the people that they came with."

See my roommates dancing crazy in the corner:

"I could join them. On the other hand, my Plastic Chair of Comfort is getting more comfortable. Let's just stay here. I'm beginning to enjoy my Recluse persona."

Finally get asked to dance:

"Oh yeaahh! This makes it all worth it!"

Lose my dance partner, but at least a few other couples are dancing now.

"This wall looks like a great place to prop myself against while I wait for someone else to dance with. It's not socially acceptable for me to only dance or be silent at a party? Says what Party Police? I make my own rules! Rebel, that's me!"


Finally decide to create my own fun by teaching my girl friends how to jive:

"Oh yeah! Parties are fun! Dancing is fun! I'm fun! More parties! More dancing!"

 My friends are making going away noises. It's past midnight, but I just got asked to dance again.

"I don't want to go home! I love dancing! Let's dance the night away!"

Finally respond to the fact that our ride really wants to leave. Photos, goodbyes, and a ride home. Back to normal life. No more parties for a while.

P.S. I'm not an extreme introvert, so real introverts don't hate me for being a faker. I can often be the life of the party, have lively conversations at parties, and enjoy being with people. Just not always.

An Indian Catholic in Catholic America

Did I mention I was Catholic? And that I work with Catholics? And that I'm in the heart of Louisiana that happens to be very Catholic. (Hollywood hadn't prepared me for this.)

So... observations, experiences, thoughts.

1. Mass Etiquette: The Sign of Peace

Well, throughout my life I assumed that the hands pressed together gesture actually was THE 'sign of peace'. I did not realize that it is the Indian namaste adapted for the Church in India. So I come to the US, and people are shaking each others' hands, hugging each other, kissing each other (spouses.. on the lips... IN THE CHURCH.. the horror!) Also a bunch of old ladies make the two finger Jesus-peace sign (as opposed to the hippy make-love-not-war sex-drugs-and-rock-and-roll peace sign) to everyone across the aisles.

But apart from repressing the urge to namaste to everyone, the confusing thing is... whom do you hug? (Answer: People you are close to, not perfect strangers... oops) Whose hands do you shake? (Answer: Strangers, and friends who are not into physical affection, or perhaps are more liturgically reserved) How do you know the difference? (Answer: Wait for them to make the first move, and react as if that is what you were planning to do all along. This is a very delicate operation, as you can't wait too long or you'll look like the awkward Indian. Awaiting with reluctance the socially awkward moment when the person I turn tries exactly the same thing, and we both stare at each other, willing the other to make the first move.)

2. Mass Etiquette: Posture and Body Language

In India, it is inappropriate to cross your legs at the knee at Mass. It gives Indians the impression of being a casual viewer, the audience at a movie theatre or a show, not particularly reverent. I was trained into this by my mum who worked hard at getting my siblings and me to 'assume a more prayerful posture' at family prayer as well- no lounging about, feet tucked under us, etc. In Catholic congregations here, many people lean back with their arms around their (respective) spouses, legs crossed. Sometimes there is applause after the last hymn. It definitely makes me feel like we're at a performance.

3. Catholic Dating Wardrobe

 One of the girls living here was going on her first date weekend with someone with whom she had an online long-distance relationship, and invited all the girls in to help her decide what to wear. It was quite the experience for me-about six girls viewing and commenting on each outfit... VERY unanimously. They spoke with one voice. The details of discerning date outfits was something they had obviously worked on many times before.

It sounded from the conversation that every young Catholic woman had the same set of clothes in her wardrobe, which included such items as a flannel shirt, boots, a black dress, dressy sweater, a variety of scarves, black and gray leggings, and such categories as casual but classy, meeting the parents and ordination- appropriate, but also meeting-the-guy-friends-at-the-pub appropriate, Fall-outdoorsy-cute not trying too hard bonfire outfit, etc. Maybe it's because I don't go on dates, or because I have a much smaller set of clothing options (my dress style is 'Gospel poverty' aka shabby/ repetitive), but I have a feeling it would not have taken me that much time or mental energy or friend support to make those kinds of decisions.

4. First All Saints' Day Party aka Holyween.

Super fun Catholic controversy is whether or not Catholics should celebrate Halloween (glorifying evil or 'O Hell, where is your victory, O Death, where is your sting?') My peeps here ignore the whole argument by having a saints dress up party which includes a LOT of candy (known as sweets/chocolates in India). Catechesis plus candy = win-win. We had decorations with lots of saints cards hung everywhere, games, stigmata cookies (not even kidding), etc. I live with about 70 or so very Catholic people, of which about 30 are kids. EVERYONE was very into costume- creating.

So we had multiples of St. Kateri Tekakwitha, and Mother Teresa, randoms like Saint Philomena and Polycarp, extremely recents like St. Zelie and St. Martin (St. Therese's parents, canonized a few weeks ago), famous biblical characters like Queen Esther, and assorted animals from Noah's Ark.

And then you had the Lamb of God. She occasionally said, "Behold," and gambolled and pranced a little.

And of course, for my very first All Saint's Day party I went as... 'That Unknown Indian Woman who Made It to Heaven But Noone Ever Officially Canonized Her or Made Saint Cards with Her Picture.' Patron saint of humility. She was so humble, noone ever heard of her.

Whatever. I bin busy.

Anyway I loved that part of Catholic America, remembering and honouring the members of our family who have gone before us. We don't do that much in my Catholic world in India. I'm bring All Saints' Day parties back home!

Okay, more later. Buh-bye.

P.S. Sorry I haven't written in SO long. It's apparently one of the busier times of my life.

Let's Talk About Awkward Hugs

Why?

Well, because Blimey Cow came out with another video:

And of course, because I am an expert on awkwardness. And hugs.

Can I just be honest and say that I have given my fair share of awkward hugs?

True story: I was playing 'What was your first impression?' with the Americans I work with (what, no one else plays that game?) and BOTH my male team mates said that they remember the awkward moment when they just met me and they didn't know whether they should hug the Indian girl... or what. I KNOW IT'S ME! I give off a 'Well maybe we could hug, but then again let's not, perhaps a side hug, I don't really know, let's go with an awkward 'Heyy!! Welcome to India!' in a warm tone to make up for the fact that I'm not hugging you' vibe.

But let's increase the general potential of hug awkwardness with the different cultural expectations. So Americans just hug. Two arms around you, usually angled with one over the shoulder, one under the opposite arm (just pretend this makes sense), variations allowed based on height, level of tightness and length of hug depending on how close you are.

Most Indians don't do general greeting/goodbye hugs. But Indian CATHOLICS now (Western/Portuguese influence variety). Things are different. You do the handshake plus kiss on both cheeks to other Catholics, especially older aunties and uncles. Or hands placed on shoulders/upper arms along with the kiss on both cheeks. Now the kiss itself isn't usually a real kiss- it's usually a cheek brush. Sometimes it's a cheek bump and then you could have bruises on your face.

In the Philippines, and with some Europeans, you do the kiss on one cheek greeting. Also in the Christian circles I hung out with in the Philippines, we did the one cheek kiss with girls, and wait for it...a SHOULDER PAT for guys. IT'S SO CONFUSING! After spending time with too many different cultures, and throwing in my own special social awkwardness, I mess it up ALL. THE. TIME. I go in for hugs when people aren't offering them, try to shake the hand of people who are trying to hug me, get my nose pressed against people's chests, almost kiss people when we both go for the same side or mess up the one cheek-two cheek thing (someone I know told me 'That's how I got my first kiss'), and get my nose buried in people's hair or ear (same person told me 'Some guy had his nose in my hair during a hug and said 'Garnier?' and I said 'no').

Here's the only three possible options I have come up with to deal with awkward hugs:

1. Comment on the awkwardness: Preferably at the same time as the hug occurs. This will either defuse the awkwardness, or make the hugger plan to avoid you forever, so it's all good.

2. Practice: Embrace the awkwardness. (Ah ha ha ha. I crack me up.) Accept the fact that this happens and hug anyway. And maybe if you keep doing it, you'll come up with an smoother technique. It's like dancing, you know? You're going to look like a fool at the beginning, but eventually grace will take over. (For most people.)

3. Stay the heck away from all potential huggers: Exchange the awkwardness of the hugs with the awkwardness of being the non-hugger. Everybody else lovingly hugs each other goodbye, and you stand off at one side and smile and wave. Or let your arms hang awkwardly to the side and stare gloomily at people while they leave. Whichever. Just be that person.

I'll leave you with this fascinating fact: The word 'awkward' on the blog post draft page appears.. wait for it.. 15 times!

More Awkwardness

On Answering the Phone

This is me, when my phone rings.

"WHY? WHY? WHYYYY?"

Like Jordan in the video, "Oh no! My day is ruined! It was going so well before you called me and brought out all my insecurities and now I feel like an idiot! THANK you!" (Well, maybe not that bad, but close.)

Ignore it for a while, and hopes that it stops, and that the person on the other end changed their mind.

Try to think of good reasons why I don't need to answer.

Put phone on silent and leaves it lying around, so I won't even know when it rings.

If it's a number I don't know, I assume it's a wrong number, and also that if it's important enough, the person will text me. (What, isn't that normal?)

When I DO have to answer it, I use my perfected method of keeping to business, and smoothly ending the conversation ASAP!

"So, yeah, anyway, got to go, see ya, bye." Hang up with a giant sigh of relief.

On Hugging

When I have the choice, and I don't know the person well, I just don't. No hug is better than fake hug.

It's not that I don't like hugs. I just prefer REAL hugs. So if I don't know the person well enough for a real hug, but they expect me to hug them anyway... I fake it. And following the phone rule, get out of it ASAP.

Actually, this is my rule for all awkward situations: FAKE IT TILL YOU MAKE IT. (Says Sue of 'Keeping It Real' fame.)

Sending the Text to the Wrong Person

Thank the LORD this has not happened to me. However, it HAS happened to my brother more than once. And my over sensitive awkwardness phobia meter goes off the charts every time I even think of what happened, and I'M the one going "NO PLEASE GOD NO PLEASE BRING IT BACK NO NO NO WHYYYYY?"

I have often speculated on how horrible it would be to play a nasty prank on someone you know well where you got into their phone, and switched the numbers of their closest friend with the person they had a crush on. OHMYGOSH THE POTENTIAL AWKWARDNESS! I even stop a moment before I send texts like that, to contemplate how horrible it would be if it went to the wrong person.

Having to Ask What Someone Said the Second Time

I have mastered the art of noncommittally agreeing the second or third time I need someone to repeat something. I listen to the tone of their voice, judge whether it seemed like something I NEEDED to know, guess what they most likely said, and then "Mm- hmm" at them. I have occasionally had to be honest and admit I didn't hear, but usually it's just not worth it to keep asking. "What?" "Huh?" "What was that?" "You did what?" This only does not work if the person said completely unexpected things in a matter of fact tone, and you find yourself agreeing to something that you did NOT plan to.

Actually, I'm usually the mumbler, getting frustrated that people keep asking me "What? What?" As I keep mumbling answers back at them, I'm yelling 'WHAT ARE YOU, DEAF?' in my head. Yeah, this usually happens when I'm really tired.

Thankfully Indians don't have the toilet paper awkwardness situation. We do however have the same problem with the absence of running water, a mug and soap. This is why I don't use bathrooms outside my home. :-)

Actually, over the years I have learned how to deal with most potentially awkward situations where they don't rattle me anymore. However, sometimes horribly awkward situations just come out of nowhere and hit me over the head when I least expect it. One of them happened last week. I was at a wedding reception of a couple I didn't know well, with a family and culture very different from mine. The reception hall was basically a dim room with disco lights and deafening club music playing. I was also with the only white people in the room sitting on a sofa, and being stared at by all the other guests. No, that wasn't the awkward part.

The awkward part happened when the groom decided that there should be some 'couple dancing'... and when no one was getting up, shouted my name on the mic, forcing me to get up and dance with one of my American friends. COUPLE DANCE. TO CLUB MUSIC. (My rhythmic soul screamed 'Kill me now!') While multiple guests TOOK PHOTOS AND VIDEOS of my humiliation.

Oh awkwardness, my arch enemy. You won that round.

Awkward Comments in India

You know my biggest phobia?

Socially awkward situations.

But I'm getting over it. You know what they say- 'Face your fears'. Well, life in India is so full of these situations, that you either get over it or emigrate to a more politically correct part of the world. I'm not going anywhere, so I've just been learning to accept the fact that conversations are not always going to be as smooth as I would like, and that it doesn't mean I have to lose my cool, be discomposed (insert dead body pun here), or uncomfortable at all.

In fact, I've gotten so good at them, that I often get picked to have necessary awkward conversations with people.

Sometimes the situation itself isn't awkward. But the comments and questions are just... special.

So in recent months one of the most wonderful conversations I've been having with EVERYONE is about how much weight I've lost. I meet people I hardly know and the first thing they say to me is 'Sue, you've pulled down!' (which in India means lost weight,or look haggard, probably both).

It's not just that they say it once. They say it every time we meet. They ALL say it, from people I work with, to aunties who have known me forever, to awkward guys who I hardly know. The phrase 'personal comments' is unknown.

"You're taking too much tension!"

"Why are you so thin? Aren't you eating?"

"What happened?" (ominous head shaking) "You have definitely lost."

It gets to the point that all I think people can see is my emaciated frame. But other people get it worse. We were in a group talking about how sometimes in the summer we don't feel like eating as much. My friend BA said, "I eat more when it's hot. I wish I ate less, then I would lose weight." (Wait, she brought it up first <--- pun alert, in case you missed it :-D) And then the person we were talking to said, "No, no, none of you need to lose weight" he paused, "except for you, R" We all looked at him, shocked. R is the healthiest member of our team, but she isn't stick thin... so she gets this. "You have a tendency," he said."You'll have to be careful."

Oh. My. Gosh.

So, yeah, weight. Favourite topic of all Indians.

But wait, there's a bigger topic! (<----Double pun alert, don't miss 'em!)

And that is of course, marriage.

Did I mention that I'm 28 and single? And Indian? Yeah, I thought so.

So my older sister texted me a few days ago. 'I just read an article about people asking personal questions like why you're not married. They said a good response is to ask them 'Why do you ask?' I thought you would find that helpful.'

Boy, would I.

In the next few days, I had not one but about three conversations with different people asking me about my marital status.

"Are you getting married?"

"How old are you?"

"Do you like Indians or Americans? Which is better?" (This, in the presence of a very embarrassed male American team member.)

"What do your parents think?"

"Arranged or love?"

"When are you getting married?"

And that oldie but goodie...

"Any good news?"

I also go some great advice about marriage: "Don't make ANY conditions. Don't be so picky."

Because the important thing is to be married. Because the worst fate for a woman in India is to be single and 28. The horror.

What's In a Hug?

I'm not a very physical person. Most Indians aren't. Spontaneous hugs are pretty unusual. It's not a part of our culture. Or most Indian family cultures. (Ooh look, I DO have something in common with most Indians.) I still remember a friend casually draping her arm around me when I was 14... and how strange I found it. 'Free Hugs' would not be a good idea on an Indian street.



Indians not only avoid hugs, but often even handshakes. At Mass, we fold our hands and bow slightly, in the 'Namaste' posture at the sign of peace.

There are people who hug. But some huggers repel me- because their hugs are fake. They don't mean what they're supposed to mean. Sometimes they create a false sense of closeness. I can't hug you if I don't know you. Or they remind me of air kisses. I can't hug you if you're just hugging me because that's what your social convention tells you to do. The kind of hug says a lot about what's in your mind. If it's brief, controlled, tense... it's not a real hug. Just say hi instead.

And then there are the creepy guy-huggers, who use hugs to force intimacy on unwary girls. Ugh. Keep away from me. Hugs from people who are not used to hugging as a healthy way of expressing affection are creepy hugs. I'd rather get an awkward shoulder pat than a creepy hug.

The wrong kind of hugs make me want to stay away from hugs. But also, I'm just not a hugger.

But here's the thing. We NEED hugs. I need hugs.

Well, we need whatever a hug really is. What is a hug? What's happens when one person envelops another in their arms?

Contact. Physical affirmation that I'm not alone. Connection, Intimacy. Touch. One-ness. Being drawn out of 'me' into 'us'. Community. A taste of being loved- One of the most basic human needs. A glimpse of heaven.* Being drawn out of isolation. An unspoken 'I'm with you'.

After my two nieces came into my life, I learned a lot more about how important meaningful physical contact is... for them and for me.

My three year old niece is not a hugger. She's kind of like me- does her own thing, will only love on her own terms, when she feels like it, how she feels like it. When I beg for a hug, she runs away and flashes that mischievous grin at me. She doesn't cling, or beg to be carried all the time.

But after a while she comes to me.

"Now I'll be your baby. With a blanket."

At first, I wasn't sure what the game involved. She curled up in my arms, her body cradled against mine, a bed sheet wrapped around her. And that was it. She stayed there for fifteen minutes, occasionally cooing a little. And then she continued with life as usual. Every time we hang out, we have to play 'baby' for a while. She found a way to soak up the love, the closeness, the physical reminder of a deeper truth- she is loved.

I need to find a way to get that more often. And give that more often. Even if it's not my default impulse.


Betty Duffy recently wrote an blog post called 'Strength for loving':

Before my husband leaves for work, I have recently begun asking for a hug. My husband and I both are life-long touch-me-nots. We've often congratulated ourselves on this feature in our relationship–” Aren't you glad we don’t have to touch each other all the time? How do people get anything done?”

Lately, however, it has become essential for me to be wrapped in someone and something bigger than myself. I just want to get to the core of us, where the presence, God-willing, sometimes is.  

 At the Resurrection Christ told Mary Magdalene “Stop hanging onto me.” And my husband occasionally follows in the footsteps of the Lord. “How long is this going to take?” he wants to know. He’s holding a cup of coffee, which I take and set on the counter. At this point I have often not dressed or brushed my teeth. I’m still wearing my glasses, and I can see that this is a great sacrifice for him to be receptive to this outside object interfering with his forward motion. Inertia is the enemy of love.

“Ten seconds,” I say, as he submits, possibly counting inwardly. “It’s good for me. It’s probably good for you too.”

I am recalling the Irish brogue of a priest I once heard talking about men who have forgotten how “to use their strong arms for loving.”

Strength is for loving. And those ten seconds supply me with most of my needs for the day. I recall this sensation, when the little boy with the lego tractor has been following me around the room. Anywhere I sit down, he sits down too. 

“Don’t you want to play?” I ask him.

“No.” He weasels his feet under my thigh, which feels irritating to me. Toes pinch.

So I put down what I’m holding, whatever it is, and hug him for ten seconds. Unlike some of my other kids, he doesn't protest. Then he slips to the floor, tractor in hand, and pushes it out of the room. (Read the whole thing here.)

Go hug someone today.

*"Heaven is a hug that lasts forever." Says Family Circus.
**"We need 4 hugs a day for survival. We need 8 hugs a day for maintenance. We need 12 hugs a day for growth." Says Virgina Satir, a psychotherapist

Social Awkwardness: The Confession Stories

My biggest phobia since I was pretty young was socially awkward situations. Some people aren't affected by awkwardness. They walk into the awkward situation... and embrace the awkwardness. Or shrug it off, one of the two. I used to feel embarrassed to the roots of my very being. It was like I was blushing from the inside out. (Indian skin doesn't show blushes very well. Which I would count as a very good thing.)

Over the years, I learned to cope a little better with possibly socially awkward situations... mostly by avoiding them. Or pushing them to the back of my mind, so I don't think about them for years. Another great way to deal with such situations is to blog about them. Also, it helps to throw in the word' awkward' as much as possible.

You, lucky reader, get to be embarrassed WITH me! Now, when I experience awkwardness, I think, "This would make a great story!"

One of the best opportunities for social awkwardness for Catholics are Confessions. I mean, saying your sins aloud to a stranger (even though he is the representative of Christ, who isn't a stranger at all) is awkward in itself, but then you thrown in a dose of ME, and it just gets.... horribly awkward.

A couple of years ago I was about to go for Confession in an unfamiliar church. I've hardly ever used confessionals, usually I seem to be sitting in a chair close to the priest. (On one occasion, I was in a car in the parking lot of an airport. )

Anyway, I saw the line of people waiting to go in, so I waited in a pew. From where I was, it looked like there were two doors, and I saw people going in through both doors, so I assumed there were two priests, which made sense with the number of people waiting. Finally I saw someone emerge from one door, and I entered, and knelt down.

I peered through the grill, but didn't see a thing. "Is this normal?" I wondered. It was kind of dim. And I couldn't hear anything. "Do I wait for him to say something, or should I just start?" I was already hot and uncomfortable. I think what makes me feel the worst is when I'm not sure WHAT I'm supposed to.

So... I just started.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I last made my Confession in ...."

Without the slightest acknowledgement from the priest, I kept talking. I could hear the murmur of the other priest and confessor from the other side. But not a peep out of mine.Why didn't I just stop? Well, I didn't know what to say. "Father, are you there? Can you hear me? Because it feels like I'm talking to myself." Yeah, no. I just couldn't.

You are wincing, waiting to hear the worst, aren't you?

I WAS talking to myself.

But not quite. It turned out that there was just. one. priest. He took it in turns to turn to first one side of the confessional, and then the other. I was basically doing a run through of my entire confession. Aloud. But what was really awkward was that it was quite possible that while I was talking, the priest COULD hear me... and so could the other confessor.

Collective awkward wince, everyone.

I'm going to count it as a victory that I kept my cool, swallowed my embarrassment, and made my entire (identical) confession to the same priest a few minutes later, after I realized my mistake, and the grill really went up.

This story has no moral.