My Words

In the journey of life, there are moments so charged with emotion that they shape who we are. I will share three of mine.

When I was seven years old, I started a new school in Bogotá, Colombia. They put me in second grade, even though I was younger than the other children. One memory from that time has stayed with me ever since.

It’s 1983, I am sitting at my desk, doing a spelling test. I’m nervous, because I believe that words aren’t my strength.

The teacher says five words and my hand trembles as I write them down.

I finish. The teacher comes to stand next to me, then takes the sheet of paper. I have only one mistake, which I think is good.

But she says, “Too easy,” and hands the paper back to me.

She gives me more words. I write them down, but fear is running through my entire body.

She takes my sheet again. This time, she finds many mistakes.

I fail the test.

Over time, I realize that words have a special charm. Maybe my spelling wasn’t good back then, but writing lets me express my feelings and ideas. That makes me a good writer. And in my adolescence, it gave me courage.

Now, I find myself writing poems and speeches for events.

I reclaimed my words.

Life is like waves that rise and fall. There are fears deep down. And when the waves rise, they appear.

It’s 2023, I arrive in Canada. Immigration is hard, and even harder when you don’t know the language. I feel unable to communicate in English, and this terrifies me. I struggle.

I am in the bathroom getting ready for my wedding anniversary. I am staring at the mirror and see that one side of my face is paralyzed. I remember that a few days ago, I was feeling unwell. I am afraid. I don’t like what I see in the mirror.

“What’s happening?” I ask myself.

 I answer, “Fear has won the battle this time.”

I go to the hospital where the diagnosis is a weak nervous system caused by stress. The recovery will be long.

My tongue is paralyzed. I cannot form words. I cannot speak properly.

My words have been stolen.

There is a thin line between correct and incorrect, good and bad, fear and courage… It’s on that line that we learn who we really are.

After recovering from the paralysis, I decided to reconnect with myself, to prioritize my self-care, and to recover my passions again. And one of these is my love of writing.

I also felt it was the moment to share my experiences with others.

It’s 2025, I want to participate in the X Page Workshop, but I believe my English is too weak for this. I am afraid. I even think about sending an email saying, “Thank you for the opportunity, but my English is terrible.”

But I don’t send the email. I go to the open house, and I am in a small room with other participants. It’s time for the interviews. I am afraid. I don’t like tests, and this feels like a test. A lot of thoughts cross my mind. My heart is pounding, and my hands are sweaty.

I breathe deeply. And although fear arises in me again, I reach across the thin line and find a crumb of courage. I take action. Today I am here. Today I choose not to say my usual phrase:

“I speak a little bit of English.”

I decide to enjoy the experience, so that I can say, “At least I tried.”

Between the mentors who come and go, and the dance of the questions, I navigate the process. I go with the flow. And I do okay.

In the final activity, everyone is asked to share one significant word from the open house.

My word is: “I did it.”

I know it’s more than one word.

But I did it.