We recently connected with Sabeeha Dhillon and have shared our conversation below.
Alright, Sabeeha thanks for taking the time to share your stories and insights with us today. Do you feel you or your work has ever been misunderstood or mischaracterized? If so, tell us the story and how/why it happened and if there are any interesting learnings or insights you took from the experience?
As human beings, we all crave to be understood—to feel like someone gets us. For most of my life, I shape-shifted in hopes that I’d be more accepted and feel less alone inside my own mind. At the same time, I wanted to escape myself—maybe because I never really felt like me.
When I was younger, my version of escape was throwing on Michelle Branch or Linkin Park, sitting on a longboard I never actually learned how to ride, and letting the wind and music carry me. Somehow, I felt more understood by strangers singing to me than by the people around me. That imprint—that craving for resonance—wove itself into my DNA and followed me into my creative work.
Because of that belief system, I was unknowingly asking the world to tell me who I was, instead of just allowing myself to be.
When I first started sharing my writing on social media, I posted short poems about my inner thoughts, feelings, and emotions I never got to express as I was healing my mental health holistically. I wanted to inspire people, but their responses often felt like pity, like they were trying to inspire me instead. So then it was a constant battle to ‘prove’ my art, instead of embodying authentic expression.
It wasn’t until recently that I realized the part of me that was creating and writing back then was secretly screaming, hoping someone would truly see me—even if that wasn’t my conscious intention, it was because I needed to truly see me.
I’ve learned that the deepest parts of us will find a way to speak, even when we’re trying to hide them behind curated versions of who we think we need to be.
Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.
The story of how I got into my craft is really the story of my entire life. And to be completely honest, it’s taken me 34 years to truly see myself with clarity. This interview came at a divine time because for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’ve come home to myself, after years of never giving up on myself.
I used to give answers that sounded impressive—answers I thought would make me seem brave, accomplished, “healed.” But the truth is, all of this started in the dark. Everything I’ve built began with me fighting to find the light within myself, especially during times when heartbreak, depression, trauma, or even my own loved ones (unintentionally) pulled me further away from who I really was.
I grew up feeling like I was living in my own movie but didn’t recognize the lead character. As a kid, I had a vivid imagination and struggled with two learning disabilities that made school feel like a battlefield. Expressing myself didn’t come easily in academic environments, so I became shy. Quiet. But my inner world was loud— colorful, alive. My dad used to tell me, “If you want to remember something, just make a movie in your head.” That simple piece of advice changed the way I processed the world. That’s when the movie scenes started to play.
I started writing early at 13 when my depression hit. My grandmother gave me a journal, and from there writing was my solace within my own self. It became short stories, poems, little pieces of my inner world. Then one day in high school, a teacher told me I was “the worst writer she’d ever seen.” That both crushed me but at the same time, it lit a fire under me.
Everything changed when a different teacher encouraged me to enter a 24-hour playwriting challenge. Our group included a writer, three actors, a producer, and a director—and I chose to direct. Something about that experience lit me up from the inside. I even interned for three summers as a production assistant at Opera Pacific through UCI just to be around the behind-the-scenes magic of creative work. That spark never left.
Still, I had a fascination with human psychology and a long-standing obsession with CSI, so I initially pursued forensic psychology in college. But by sophomore year, I realized it didn’t ignite me the way storytelling did. So I changed my major to Screenwriting and English, and minored in Marketing. I fell in love with film and writing again. But after graduating, doubt crept in and the dream became a hobby.
Instead of going to business school, I chose to learn hands-on. I entered the tech world, and over the next 11 years, I helped to scale the company I joined from the ground up—eventually becoming Director of Operations. But that creative flame never died. I started building my platform on the side because I knew I had stories to tell—my own, and the ones no one else was voicing.
Alongside all this, I survived intense challenges—addiction in my early 20s, PTSD that left me non-functional for weeks, and two abusive relationships. Eventually, I attended Onsite in Tennessee, and that experience changed everything. It helped me remember who I was. Why I was here.
My journey into sharing my story began in 2019 with raw blog posts about overcoming my mental health holistically. I wanted people to feel less alone and know that they have the power to change their lives if they want to. The response shocked me. That blog turned into a YouTube channel, then evolved into my podcast, Proper Madness, and later into Tea Time with Sabi—a space where I share lessons, insights, and growth in real time. At one point, I had over 15K followers and was quickly growing as a mental health influencer. But then… I healed. And when your brand is built on your pain, what happens when the that is gone?
I pivoted. Tried wellness. Tried coaching. It didn’t feel right. I lost followers. I stopped creating for two years. Then came back. Then paused again. Each time, I got closer to the core of who I really am.
Now I create from a place of full alignment. I use my business experience, my intuitive storytelling skills, and my own healing journey to help others wake up to themselves. I write, I speak, I create visual storytelling that’s rooted in intention and connection. My podcast Proper Madness, my writing, and my video content are all extensions of one mission: to help people alchemize their pain and step into the fullest version of who they are.
What I offer is more than content—it’s perspective. Emotional depth. Resilience. Wisdom wrapped in warmth. People come to me when they’re ready to remember who they are, when they need to feel seen, or when they’re in the process of rising from their own storm. I don’t claim to have all the answers, but I share what I’ve lived, and I offer my voice as a mirror for others to see themselves more clearly.
I’m proud of never giving up on myself—even when I didn’t recognize who I was becoming. My platform is no longer about performance. It’s about presence. About permission. And about power that comes from within.
What I want people to know is this: your story is sacred. Your mess is medicine. You have the keys to your own freedom, use them. If you’re willing to walk through the eye of the storm, the clarity you’re seeking is through the other side.
What’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative in your experience?
I always feel this rush of relief, excitement, and a glow from the inside out whenever a creative project I planned is launched, posted, or complete. There’s no better feeling than when you small seed of curiosity for an idea of something, is then met with a small step towards it because a voice inside of you goes ‘well what if’ and then you take it, run with it, create it, produce it, edit it. All those hours into taking the beautiful vision within your mind and making it into something tangible for others to enjoy… I love that feeling. Bonus is when someone tells you that what you created spoke to them in some way or made them feel inspired.
What’s a lesson you had to unlearn and what’s the backstory?
A lesson I had to unlearn is that I had to become someone else to be loved.
I haven’t been in a relationship in four years. I’ve dated. I’ve grown. I’ve spent so much time longing for that person, the one I could build a life with, start a family with, do the little and the big things with. And for a long time, I was searching for that person to complete me. Even when I thought I was healed, even when I was “working on myself,” I realize now… I was still trying to get something. To be chosen. To prove I was enough.
When someone I really wanted came along, I’d panic. I’d shift. I’d overthink. I’d try to perfect myself, become more of what I thought they wanted: softer, more feminine, more “cool girl.” Or I’d overshare my pain, hoping it would make them care more deeply. But either way, I was abandoning myself. I wasn’t being me. I was performing, sometimes subtly, sometimes not. And it was all rooted in that same old belief: that maybe if I just adjust a little more, they’ll finally stay.
I used to ask myself over and over, “What’s wrong with me?” when the people I wanted didn’t want me back. I would obsess. Replay everything. Ask them how I could improve. And I always got the same answer: You didn’t do anything wrong. I never believed them.
Over time, the truth revealed itself. One didn’t want kids. One wasn’t going to be ready to settle down for years. One couldn’t see me because he couldn’t even see himself. And one was still in love with his ex. None of that had anything to do with my worth. They just weren’t my people… and that’s what they were trying to tell me. I just wasn’t ready to accept it.
There’s been so much grief in that realization. But also… so much peace. Because now, I’m not changing myself to be loved. I’m choosing to love myself as I am, while still growing and evolving from a place of devotion, not deficiency.
I used to think being independent meant I didn’t need anyone, but I’ve learned that independence can become armor if you’re not careful. It became a shield for me. I started to say, “I can do it all on my own,” because I had to. But the truth is, I don’t want to. I want support. I want a partner. I want someone who sees the weird things in my room, who laughs with me about gym drama, who has my back the way I’ve always had my own.
And now, for the first time, I’m not searching from a place of lack. I’ve become my own home. I’m not rushing the timeline. I’m not trying to earn love or prove anything. I’m in this state of peace, surrender, and trust… knowing that the right person will meet me where I’m already standing: in my truth, in my power, and in my softness. No performance. No shrinking.
Just me. And that’s enough.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://linktr.ee/sabidhillon
- Instagram: @_sabidhillon
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/sabeeha-dhillon
- Twitter: @_sabidhillon
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@SabiDhillon
- Other: https://sabidhillon.substack.com/
Image Credits
The two photos of me looking out the window are by Tyler Middendorf