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Most of us spend a ridiculous amount of time trying to exile the parts of ourselves we find uncomfortable, embarrassing, or inconvenient. But those parts don’t disappear—they just get louder. They become your Shadow. And until you start working with your shadow instead of ignoring it, it’ll keep shaping your choices from the dark.
Rooted in Jungian psychology, the Shadow holds the traits, memories, desires, and fears we’ve shoved into the basement of our minds. Not because they’re evil, but because they didn’t fit the mask we thought we had to wear. The result? Internal sabotage, doubled emotions, and an exhausting amount of self-monitoring.
When I stopped trying to wrestle my Shadow into submission and let her speak—without judgment—everything changed. She didn’t disappear. She got clearer. And I got honest.
Why the Shadow Matters (Especially If You’ve Been Through Hell)
Working with your Shadow isn’t about “fixing” yourself. It’s about unburdening the parts of you that are sick of pretending.
I spent years believing my Shadow was proof of my failure—internalized messages from trauma, abuse, and all the roles I thought I had to play to be loved. Every feeling came with an echo, a second wave of shame or fear just for having felt the first one. I call it the double burden. Maybe you’ve felt it too.
But once I gave my Shadow permission to think what it wanted to think—without trying to censor, justify, or erase it—I stopped feeling everything twice. That was the beginning of real self-acceptance.
But once I gave my Shadow permission to think what it wanted to think—without trying to censor, justify, or erase it—I stopped feeling everything twice.
How to Begin Shadow Work (Without Spiraling)
You don’t need a therapist, a candle, or a perfect full moon to start shadow work. You need honesty. And maybe an art journal. Or a notebook.
Recognize the Shadow When It Shows Up
That surge of defensiveness? The part of you that resents kindness or fixates on someone else’s success? That’s not you being “bad”—that’s the Shadow flinching.
Journal and Doodle
Draw first. Scribble. Try a shadow art exercise. Then write down what the hell you think it means. Or don’t. Sometimes meaning shows up later.
Let It Think What It Wants
Seriously. You’re not obligated to agree with your Shadow—but it deserves the chance to speak. Ignored parts become loud parts. Witnessing quiets them.
Tools for Working with Your Shadow
Shadow work isn’t one-size-fits-all. Try a few methods and see what fits.
Create a Space – A sketchbook. A ritual shelf. A locked Google doc titled “Shit I Can’t Say Out Loud.” Your Shadow needs a space of her own.
Art & Creativity – My go-to. Making art lets my subconscious bleed into the physical world. I find what I couldn’t name by letting my hands lead. It’s messy. It’s weird. It works.
Flow States – That feeling when time vanishes and you become the thing you’re doing? That’s flow. It’s a sacred space where the Shadow can emerge safely, without needing to fight for attention.
Mindfulness – Sit with your thoughts. Especially the ugly ones. Don’t moralize them. Just look.
Tarot & Symbolism – Whether you believe they’re mystical or metaphorical, cards reflect what’s inside. Use them as a mirror, not a map.
Integration Isn’t a Clean Process
Let’s not sugarcoat it: you are not getting rid of your Shadow. You’re building a relationship with it. That relationship can be tense, hilarious, heartbreaking—and ultimately healing.
Over time, your reactions soften. You interrupt the old patterns mid-swing. You stop mistaking shame for a need for placing accountability in the correct place. You stop being surprised by who you are.
Shadow Work as a Lifelong Practice
Shadow work isn’t something you “finish.” It’s the ongoing practice of choosing wholeness over perfection. The Shadow shifts as you do, constantly collecting what you try to throw away. It will outgrow you if you’re not paying attention.
And yes, it’s hard. Yes, it stirs up memories and pain you thought you buried deep enough. But guess what? You’re still here. Still capable of holding both the hurt and the healing.
One Last Thing
Your Shadow isn’t your enemy. It’s the part of you that remembers everything, even the things you swore you’d forget.
So sit with it. Make something from it. Let it ruin your illusion and rebuild your truth.
You don’t need to be good.
You need to be whole.
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