India pt. 1: My Arrival (cont’d)
Without placing the blame on anyone, I was one socially awkward person. In my upbringing, I only spoke when spoken to; I was never taught how to engage in small talk or shown the art the conversation. Whenever I arrived at a social function, I was often left to fend for myself as my parents wandered off to join the other adults. Ultimately, this generated a paralyzing fear when it came to social interaction. I absolutely despised arriving late to family gatherings because I knew that I’d have to somehow announce my arrival by greeting people. I didn’t know how to greet people. I suppose I’d been so conditioned to just do what I was told that when it came to being myself or taking initiative, I simply had no clue what that looked like. My family’s ignorance and/or indifference to this matter didn’t help.
Similarly, when we had guests over growing up, I remember the feeling of numbness as I sat in my room, listening to the sound of footsteps and voices below. Overcome with anxiety, I would delay going downstairs for as long as I could. When eventually, I had no other choice but to emerge for food, down I went, body as stiff as a board, my breath shallow, and gaze fixed to the floor. Upon contact, the words would simply not formulate. My voice weak and shaky, I’d utter a faint hello, or stumble awkwardly over the simplest phrase. As soon as I served myself to rice and whatever sides of vegetables and meat my mom had prepared, I ran straight for the TV, where I was safe again. It was the perfect excuse for avoidance.
Social anxiety is an invisible bully. I accepted it as part of me because I just didn’t know how to confront it. Since the adults around me never seemed to express concern either, things just carried on, as is, for years. Although I did have friends at school, any social interaction that was new or in the slightest bit unfamiliar, especially as I got older, was absolute torture. As a defence, I naturally adopted what people call “resting bitch face”. If I looked angry or annoyed, people would leave me alone, right? My close friends often expressed disbelief at the idea that I could be this socially inept introvert. Sure, I felt confident enough around the select few who knew me well, but otherwise, I suffered in silence. These days, although I’ve found ways to manage my social anxiety, there are still moments when it creeps up again. It’s a continuous work in progress.
Meeting Family for the First Time
So when I awoke the following morning, my very first in Delhi, out of a deeply ingrained habit, I expected to feel the same numbing anxiety at the thought of leaving my room and greeting family members who didn’t quite know who the heck I was. I was a guest in their home and eventually, I’d have to show myself.
I lay there, under a multitude of blankets, listening to the sounds of movement around the flat. I peeked at my phone and it was still very early. Trying to reason with myself, there was absolutely no need for me to throw myself out there just yet, having arrived so late the night before; jet lag — jet lag was a more than acceptable reason to stay in bed until late afternoon, if needed. But as I went back and fourth trying to muster up all the excuses in my head, I realized that I wasn’t experiencing the paralyzing fear that I was used to. Somehow, I felt calm. It was a feeling of freedom that at that very moment, was monumental.
All the work that I’d put into trying to understand myself better, everything I had done over the last few years for the sake of my personal development, was paying off. To find myself in this place of peace was exhilarating. I shot up from under the covers and went to meet my family.
My aunt and uncle were just sitting down to breakfast as the help finished up her rounds for the day. With a big smile, I greeted my Bak-bak and Bak-may and expressed how grateful I was to them for receiving me. Joining them at the table, they warmly welcomed me to breakfast, which consisted of a delicious cup of black milk tea, some hardboiled egg, Amul cheese in a can (tasty and nothing like the American kind), toast…
We spoke about my travels and how everyone was doing back home; years ago, my sister had visited India and met them briefly while in town. Their youngest daughter slept in late and I would meet her a little later. I learned about their other daughter, located in Hyderabad, as well as their son and 2 young grandchildren whom I’d also eventually meet. They mentioned that they were having an exceptional winter and that just before my arrival, Delhi had experienced record-breaking cold. The conversation was just like any regular conversation that someone would have with family they were meeting for the first time. There was nothing painful or awkward about it. This is what I had longed for for so long — to feel at ease and free to be myself, with no doubts, or questions, or fears. I was just me.
As my aunt prepared to head out to her beauty salon for the day (it’s not uncommon for the Chinese in India to own businesses in this sector), I relished in this newfound sense of inner peace. I wasn’t feeling the need to run and hide. I could just sit there, at my aunt and uncle’s dining table, in Delhi, India, sipping a cup of tea.
I took my time that day to adjust to the new time zone and climate. Since I had come with no fixed plan, there was no rush to figure things out. My uncle showed me around the neighbourhood and my first lessons in navigating the organized chaos that is Delhi traffic, began.
Later that evening, I finally did meet my cousin, Melissa, only a few years younger than I am. She was reserved and quiet, which first immediately made me think that there was something wrong with me — but, not wanting to engage in old patterns, I carried on without a second thought and soon enough, everything was fine. While she had plans to head to Goa for a friend’s wedding, I thought about where I wanted to begin exploring. I was excited to see more of India and to remember what it felt like to travel on my own again.
Here though, is where I encountered some apprehension. How much of my plans to take local transport and stay in backpackers’ hostels should I reveal to my family? Back in Canada, relatives had already voiced concern and outright disapproval of the trip, given the political situation taking place at the time and the horror stories of the treatment towards women. Although the freedom of being able to be myself brought me immense relief and joy, the part of me who is wildly independent and free-spirited debated how much of my true self I could and should share openly without ruffling any feathers or having anybody worry too much about me.
I was beginning to see a connection. Back home, as I evolved as a person and was stepping into a different version of myself, questions troubled me about who I was in relation to my family and whether I belonged at all. Here in Delhi, halfway across the world, it was as if I was experiencing an echo of those original sentiments.
2 Comments
Robert
This was an engaging read. You must have made notes religiously through the trip, as the narration was pretty detailed and seem like it just happened yesterday. When we met I would never have guessed you were an introvert as mentioned here. I guess the trip did change you for the better! 🙂
admin
Visiting India did change me somehow! And you’re totally correct — I think before this, I probably would have not reached out to someone online AND followed through with meeting them! Very glad we did though and had a chance to share some good conversation. Thank you, Robert!!