“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you.”
Ever since I was a little girl, stories fascinated me. When my reality didn’t add up to what my heart yearned to see, I’d peek my head out the window of a book, into the magical world of a new story. The journey was always surreal as I would fly in and out of the lives of countless characters but the landing back home was always disorienting. My ankles would buckle and my legs would struggle to hold the weight of my own tale. For years, I’d hold my story within me in hopes of it morphing into a new future that I could bear. But as the years progressed, the details of my story began to overflow and I was drowning. The waterline inside me lowered as the pen moved along the pages of my journals. Despite being surrounded by friends and peers that couldn’t clearly see me, I began to breathe again.
Writing is my meeting place. It is where I meet God; it is where I meet my past; it is where I meet myself. It is my self care. I can be completely me on the page without the worry of appearances.
I grew up in the suburbs surrounded by kids that didn’t look like me. My parents fought hard to bring us there to benefit from a superior education, but as my mind filled with information on Physics, Advanced literary studies, and how to analyze data, I missed out on an education of the soul. None of my friends were people of color. I was the minority in every scenario: racially, ethnically, socioeconomically, and spiritually. I was a master at blending in as best I could and would act just as surprised when someone noticed that I was brown.
My mother immigrated here from Mexico to marry my father, a first generation Mexican-American. I am a Mexican-American and my identity in this world is caught teetering on the slippery line of the hyphen between two cultures. Summers living in Mexico cemented my love for the culture and values of my ancestors while the daily life of America caught my attention and ambition for something more. The entanglements are vast and confusing.
The page is always where I sort it out.
When the world is loud and shouting countless opinions on what I should look like, how I should sound, the way I should live, the page is always there.
I thank God for the countless ways He has provided for His children to express themselves. These small lines and loops serve as the paint strokes of my heart that I can share with others or keep to myself. It allows me to sort and shout. It is my tool to share my story and give courage to others to do the same so we can all breathe a little bit easier and walk a little lighter embracing how God has created us.
My name is Jessica Annette Galvan. I am 32 years old and a follower of Christ. For the past 14 years, Gerardo Galvan has been my best friend and husband for 8 of those years. We have 2 brilliant little girls that we have the honor to raise together. I work as a freelance writer and editor serving creatively in many capacities to increase the amplification of different voices to reveal the beauty of God’s creation.
