I’ve spent years trying to understand myself and still feeling broken. Listening to Shiilia was the first time I felt like my reactions made sense. She didn’t rush my healing or try to fix me — she helped me trust myself again. I walked away feeling steadier, softer, and more hopeful than I have in a long time.

I didn’t come in believing in ‘healing work.’ I came in trying to understand someone I love. Shiilia’s words helped me see things differently — not as flaws or excuses, but as human responses to pain. I left with more compassion, less judgment, and a deeper respect for the healing process.

I wasn’t looking to heal — I was just trying to make it through the day. But something about Shiilia’s story made me stop and listen. She didn’t talk down to me or pretend life was easy. She made me feel like maybe I wasn’t too far gone. That mattered more than she’ll ever know!

I didn’t realize how numb I had become until I heard Shiilia speak. Something in her words slipped past my defenses and landed exactly where I’d been avoiding. She didn’t ask me to be brave or positive or healed — she told the truth about how survival actually feels. Listening to her was uncomfortable in the best way. It forced me to stop lying to myself about what I was carrying. I didn’t walk away feeling fixed. I walked away feeling honest. And for me, that was the beginning.

I didn’t believe in hope when I met Shiilia. I was living in a shelter, using just to get through the day, and I couldn’t see a future that didn’t hurt. I ran into her at a restaurant and I don’t even know why I spoke — maybe because I had nothing left to lose. She didn’t flinch when she looked at me. She didn’t rush me or judge me. She hugged me like I mattered. She bought me warm soup, gave me her number, and offered me a ride — simple things that felt impossible to accept because no one had been kind to me in a long time. That moment cracked something open. Not because she saved me — but because she reminded me I was still human. Today I’m working. I have my own place. I’m sober. And when things get hard, I remember that night — that someone saw me at my lowest and treated me like I was worth loving anyway. That changed everything.

I didn’t come to Shiilia’s work feeling hopeful. I came exhausted, guarded, and tired of pretending I was okay. What struck me most was that she didn’t try to inspire me or wrap pain in pretty words. She told the truth — the kind that lands in your body before it makes sense in your head. Her words cracked something open I’d spent years holding shut. Not in a dramatic way, but in a quiet, unsettling, honest one. I walked away feeling exposed, steadier, and more real than I had in a long time. This wasn’t comfort. It was clarity. And it changed me.