For most of my life, I mostly cared about how I was perceived from the outside. I learned early-on to suppress parts of myself in fear that my truth would not be accepted (which was learned in my teenage years). Achievement, approval, secrecy—these became my safety. They also created a version of me that was well-liked on the outside and incredibly disconnected on the inside. I didn’t even know I was disconnected to myself. I didn’t consider anything else except for outside validation.

My life shifted around age 30 when I let myself be deeply vulnerable for the first time. That moment cracked something open in me and I began a decade-long, beautiful journey back to myself.

My inner work has taken many forms: sacred medicine experiences like ayahuasca, bufo alvarius, and kambo; consistent yoga and breathwork practices (I'm a 200-hour registered yoga teacher); writing and reflection; therapy and therapeutic ketamine. Through these experiences, I’ve come to understand and embody timeless principles like presence, surrender, acceptance, and gratitude for life’s overlooked moments. I see myself as a student of life, continually learning and practicing what it means to live with awareness and depth.

During my final years in a 9–5 job I wrote poetry about wanting more from my career. I was unsure if I’d ever share the poetry. I was simply writing for myself. After leaving the 9–5, I realized the book was complete and that I wanted to share it. Publishing it became a symbol of reclaiming my voice.

That leap led me here. I left tech life to pursue Inner Work Coaching, completing formal training and opening a private practice for those like me who’ve been successful on paper but feel disconnected from themselves. Now, I hold space for people who are ready to release the suppression they’ve been living under and reconnect with their truth.

These days, I’m in my own season of slowing down with myself, the world around me, and people who fill my days. Letting life be quieter, richer, softer. In the in-between moments, you’ll find me with my dog, Quinn. She lives by energy, not thought—a quiet teacher of presence who brings me back to groundedness when I need it most, one frito paw at a time.

— Priscilla Zorrilla