Embracing the Shadow: A Journey to Wholeness

There is currently a wave of interest in wellness communities in the concept of our 'Shadow' and doing 'Shadow Work'. As a therapist, it excites me that people want to gain greater awareness about themselves and are willing to work toward mental well-being.

Through my work, I have noticed that many people use the term freely but don’t seem to have a real understanding of what their shadow refers to or how to do shadow work. They perceive themselves as having 'good' and 'acceptable' parts, alongside other 'bad' and 'unacceptable' parts. The shadow is understood as referring to the bad parts. Additionally, the idea is that they are only aware of a fraction of their bad parts; the others sneak up on them and cause havoc. This is experienced as an ongoing internal war, where they desperately try to gain control over their dark side. Regardless of how hard they try, they can’t keep themselves from being bad. The assumption is that there is something wrong with them. They come to therapy wanting help to get rid of their bad parts and behavior.

I find this understanding heartbreaking. This internal war, the level of self-dislike, and the unshakable belief that they are broken in some way explain the anguish we experience, which presents as anxiety, depression, overwhelm, isolation, and even suicidal ideation.

Understanding the Shadow

What is the Shadow?

The shadow encompasses all the parts of ourselves that we have been taught (through our experiences) are ‘bad’. We have rejected and suppressed these parts to be viable in the world—to belong, feel loved, be valuable, worthy, good enough, right; the list goes on.

To explain, let me borrow the analogy of ‘this being human is a guest house’ from the Sufi mystic and poet Rumi. In his poem, The Guest House, he encourages us to welcome all different ways of being into our house and view them as guides from the beyond (The Guest House). I picture each of us as a guest house. When we are born, all the rooms are occupied by the various elements or qualities of who we are. As a newborn, all the rooms’ inhabitants get along with each other. We own all our qualities and feel able to be our whole selves. Our qualities are neither good nor bad.

As we interact with others, we learn about who we are, who others are, and what the world is. We learn how we can expect to be treated and develop strategies to ensure we stay safe and receive love. These rules or definitions become the blueprint we then use to navigate through our lives.

Let’s use the example of the quality of power. If we encounter a person who uses power negatively—by being abusive, controlling, and violent—we may define power as bad. We determine that we will never be like that person. So, we decide to turn off the light in the power room of our guest house. We do this as a way of improving ourselves by getting rid of that bad part of us. It is an attempt to renovate the guest house. Another scenario for how we come to switch off our lights is when we are attacked or shamed for showing a part of ourselves. We learn very quickly that it’s not safe to be like that. The more we interact with others, the more we learn about what is good and bad, and the more lights we switch off, trying to improve ourselves and avoid suffering.

Power, Creativity and Innocence in the Dark

We switch the light off thinking that we have completely rid ourselves of that quality. The truth, however, is that the inhabitant is still in the room. Only now, instead of being part of the whole being, it is neglected and abandoned in a locked dark room, slowly becoming the worst version of itself. I always imagine an innocent Hobbit transforming into Gollum from The Lord of the Rings. Through this process, the shadow is born. The more we resist this part of ourselves, the more it persists.

The Illusion of Control and the Cycle of Suffering

The thing is, when we turn the lights off, we don’t just lose access to the ‘bad’ parts; we lose access to the ‘good’ as well. Going back to the power example, we try to ensure that we won’t ever be abusive and controlling. Without meaning to, we deny ourselves the ability to be assertive, self-assured, and have clear boundaries.

To take this example further, if we have decided that power is bad, a likely strategy for viability is to people-please. This looks like being a caring person who is very considerate and goes out of their way to help others. In its extreme form, this looks like meeting everyone else’s needs by self-sacrificing and ignoring your own. It creates a reality where you are powerless to have what you want, hoping that others will meet your needs because you are so kind.

As soon as we implement this strategy, we set ourselves up for Gollum’s escape. Every time we ignore our own needs, allow people to cross our boundaries, and self-abandon, we create frustration, hurt, and anger. There is only so long that we can treat ourselves this way before we lose control. Gollum escaping looks like having a tantrum. Maybe you throw some things, raise your voice, or say things like, “No one cares about me! You are all so selfish! No one appreciates me! No one sees my value! I hate you all! I’m not going to do anything for you anymore!” This tantrum is usually spectacular and results in a huge amount of guilt and shame once we have calmed down. Against our every effort, we have behaved exactly like the person we never wanted to be like. The obvious solution? Double down on caging Gollum and be even more of a people pleaser, setting ourselves up for the next tantrum.

This cycle of suppression and explosive release is where the real creation of suffering occurs. We mistakenly believe that by locking these qualities away, we are in control. In reality, we are merely handing over the keys to our neglected parts, granting them the power to act out autonomously and destructively. The very energy we use to suppress our shadow fuels its eventual, and often destructive, escape. We are not managing our darkness; we are simply ensuring that when it emerges, it does so from a place of neglect, resentment, and distortion, causing maximum damage to ourselves and others.

A Call to Shadow Work

Why is this work so important? Because it makes us aware of the unconscious rules we have created and live by. It allows us to question these old blueprints and redefine our own truth. How does this awareness help us? Carl Jung captured it beautifully: “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.”

If we don’t do this work, we live life based on a lie—the lie that we need to compensate for our inherent defectiveness. We also go through life allowing a compromised, fragmented version of ourselves to make all our decisions, forever reacting from a place of fear and lack.

So, can we heal this part of ourselves? The paradigm must shift: the notion of trying to "heal" Gollum is itself a form of resistance, a subtle rejection of what is. The way out is not through healing but through awareness, radical honesty, and a courageous stepping into your whole self. It requires taking full accountability for your present reality: other people may have helped you build these cages, but you are now the one perpetuating your own captivity.

The dark rooms we created to keep us safe end up caging us, trapping us in the very suffering we were trying to avoid.

From Internal War to Compassionate Reintegration

The goal, therefore, is not to win a war against ourselves but to end the war entirely. True shadow work is not an exorcism; it is a process of compassionate repatriation. It begins with the courageous act of turning the lights back on in those locked rooms—not to evict the inhabitants, but to see them clearly, understand their origins, and acknowledge their intended function. That neglected power, for instance, wasn't inherently abusive; it was a natural capacity for self-efficacy and integrity that, through a painful experience, became wrongly conflated with harm.

This work involves sitting with the discomfort of meeting these disowned parts without immediate judgment. It means asking, "What was this quality originally meant for? How did it get hurt? How is it trying to protect me, even in its maladapted way?" The tantrum isn't a monster emerging from the deep; it is the desperate, raw cry of a vital part of you that has been imprisoned and starved for recognition. It is a dysfunctional but earnest attempt to have its needs met.

The Path to Wholeness

By listening to this cry with curiosity instead of fear, we can begin to reintegrate these qualities consciously. We learn to reclaim power not as control over others but as agency over our own lives—setting boundaries, speaking our truth, and honoring our needs. We learn that anger can be a healthy signal of violated boundaries rather than a destructive force. We discover that our vulnerability is not a weakness but the very source of authentic connection.

This is the profound shift: moving from a life spent barricading doors in our own guest house to one of welcoming back every part of ourselves as a valuable, albeit sometimes wounded, guest. We stop trying to be 'good' by being less of ourselves and start striving for wholeness, which encompasses the full spectrum of our humanity. In this integration, the shadow loses its destructive power and instead contributes its strength to the whole. The energy once spent on suppression is freed for creation, connection, and authentic living. The birth of the shadow created suffering; its conscious embrace is the beginning of true liberation.

Conclusion: Embracing Our Whole Selves

In this journey of shadow work, we learn to embrace all aspects of ourselves. We recognize that every part has a role to play. By integrating our shadow, we can reclaim our power and live authentically. This path may be challenging, but it is also deeply rewarding. Together, let’s embark on this journey of self-discovery and healing, allowing ourselves to be whole and free.