Their words.

I was carrying so much from work — the discrimination, the silence, the feeling that no one believed me. Roz just listened. No judgment, no advice I didn't ask for. By the end of the call I could finally breathe.

She saw through me in fifteen minutes. I had been pretending to be fine for months. Talking to her felt like sitting with someone who already knew my heart and still loved it.

After my mother passed, everyone kept telling me to move on. Roz was the only one who let me just be sad out loud. She gave my grief room to breathe, and slowly it turned into peace.

I called about an argument with my sister. I hung up understanding that the problem wasn't the problem — the way I kept holding it was. We spoke again the next week and the one after. It changed how I love people.

Roz helped me see the answer was sitting inside the situation the whole time. I had been running from it for two years. One conversation and I made the call I had been afraid to make.

I have spent years in paranoia, sure everyone was against me. Roz walked me through it gently and showed me where the bondage was coming from. I left lighter than I had felt in a decade.

Thirty minutes on the phone with a stranger became the turning point of my year. She is not a stranger anymore. She is the person I call when my heart is heavy.

I didn't think talking about it would help. It did. She listens the way nobody else in my life does — fully, patiently, without needing me to be anything but honest.