For most of my life, I 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 and through intergenerational trauma).

Approval, silence, secrecy—these became my safety. They also created a version of me that was well-liked on the outside and deeply disconnected on the inside. I didn’t even realize how disconnected I was, but my self-destructive behaviors showed it.

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

My inner work has taken many forms: sacred medicine experiences like bufo alvarius and ayahuasca; consistent yoga and breathwork practices; intergenerational trauma research; writing and reflection; therapy; and therapeutic ketamine. Many of these experiences broke me open and rewired me. They taught me what presence feels like, what surrender really means, and how truth reveals itself when everything else falls away.

I bring that same depth and grounded awareness into every session with you.

During my final years in a 9–5 job, I wrote poetry about wanting more from my career. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever share it. I was just writing for myself. After leaving the 9–5, I realized the book was complete and that I wanted to share it. Self-publishing it became a symbol of reclaiming my voice.

That all led me here. I left tech to pursue coaching, completing formal coaching training and opening a private practice dedicated to helping those who feel ready to release the suppression they’ve been living under and reconnect with who they are at their core.

These days, I’m learning to slow down with myself, the world around me, and people who fill my days. In the in-between moments, you’ll find me with my rescue dog, Quinn. She lives by energy, not thought—a quiet teacher of authenticity who brings me back to groundedness, one frito paw at a time.

— Priscilla Zorrilla