Shadow Work: Learning to Meet the Parts of Ourselves We Hide

“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.”

• C.G. Jung

It’s the MOST beautiful fall day today, isn’t it? The leaves are changing, the light is getting softer, and every day there is a little less of it. There’s something about this time of year that naturally invites me inward, toward the places I might not always want to look.

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about shadow work and the parts of myself I tend to keep in the shadows. Maybe the parts I don't particularly like, or just wish would go away. The parts that feel angry, jealous, needy, afraid, controlling, selfish, insecure, or simply... messy. The parts I learned somewhere along the way were not acceptable. We all have them, and it has taken me a long time to begin shedding some light on mine.

At its heart, shadow work is simply about becoming more conscious of the parts of ourselves that we have pushed away, rejected, or learned to hide. These aren't necessarily "bad" parts of us. Sometimes they are simply parts that didn't fit with who we thought we needed to be in order to be loved, accepted, safe, or successful.

Maybe you learned to be the good child. The easy one. The caretaker. The peacemaker. The one who never caused trouble. The one who always made sure everyone else was okay. These adaptations can be incredibly useful when we're young. They help us navigate our families and our world. But sometimes the patterns that helped us feel safe when we were young continue operating long after we need them.

Lately, I've been coming into a deeper relationship with a younger part of myself that I think of as my "good boy." He's the part that learned to keep the peace, to not cause pain, to make sure everyone else was okay. He's the part that learned to put me aside in order to avoid disappointing someone or creating conflict. And I'm beginning to see just how deeply this pattern lives in me and how influential it has been in my day-to-day life.

There is something beautiful about wanting to be kind and not hurt people. I don't want to lose that part of myself. But I've also been learning that trying to arrange my life so that no one ever experiences pain is an impossible task. Sometimes, in trying so hard not to cause pain, I end up abandoning something true in myself and ultimately causing myself pain.

And the truth is, love and pain are interwoven. We will hurt people we love. We will be hurt by people we love. We will disappoint each other. We will experience loss. And eventually, even the people we love most will experience the pain of losing us.

We cannot love our way out of this.

This has been a difficult thing for my "good boy" to understand. Because if I can just be good enough, careful enough, thoughtful enough, maybe nobody has to hurt. But that's not how being human works, is it?

So I'm trying something different. Instead of pushing this part of myself away or judging it, I'm trying to sit beside it with some tenderness. To say, I see you. I understand why you learned to do this. You were trying to keep us safe. And then, gently, to ask, Is there another way?

Maybe this is what shadow work can look like. Not trying to get rid of the parts of ourselves we don't like, but bringing loving awareness to the places where we've been living unconsciously. The parts that are afraid. The parts that want control. The parts that want to be chosen. The parts that are angry. The parts that desperately want everyone to be okay. When we can meet these parts with curiosity instead of judgment, we may begin to understand what they have been trying to do for us.

This is also where shadow work and inner child healing can overlap. We can begin to recognize that some of our present-day reactions and patterns may have roots in much earlier experiences. Instead of judging ourselves for having these patterns, we can become curious about where they came from and what they might need from us now.

For me, this kind of inner work is not separate from the rest of my healing practice. It is part of the larger question I find myself returning to again and again: how do we become more deeply present to our own lives? Sometimes that happens through meditation or time in nature. Sometimes through movement, breath, ceremony, or conversation. Sometimes through acupuncture, where the invitation is not simply to treat a symptom, but to slow down enough to listen to what the body and nervous system may be communicating.

This is a big part of what we explore at Village Wellness in Berwyn, on Philadelphia's Main Line. Our approach to acupuncture and holistic healing is rooted in the idea that the different parts of us are not separate. The body, emotions, mind, relationships, and spirit all participate in the larger process of healing. Sometimes healing begins simply by creating enough space to notice what has been asking for our attention.

And I wonder what this looks like for you. Is there a part of yourself you've been trying to silence, change, or get rid of? Is there a pattern you keep finding yourself in, even though some part of you knows it isn't serving you anymore? Maybe there is a younger part of you that learned a particular way of being in the world because, at the time, it helped you feel safe or loved. What happens when, instead of judging that part, you get curious about it? What was it trying to do for you? What was it protecting? What might it need from you now?

Sometimes the answer isn't to get rid of the part. Sometimes it's to let that part know it doesn't have to do its old job anymore.

Fall feels like such a beautiful time to ask these questions. As we begin the journey into the darker half of the year, the trees don't cling to their leaves because they're afraid of what will happen when they fall. They let them go when it's time. There is no shame in the changing.

Maybe some of our own growing asks the same of us: to lovingly notice what we've been carrying, to thank the parts of ourselves that helped us survive, and to begin making room for something more spacious and true.

For me, that means learning that I don't have to abandon myself in order to care for someone else. It means learning that being kind doesn't require me to disappear, and that causing someone pain is not always the same thing as doing something wrong.

Sometimes there is no painless path. Sometimes the most loving thing we can do is tell the truth, stay present, and allow ourselves and the people we love to feel what is there to be felt.

Maybe that's one of the gifts hidden in the shadows.

Not becoming less caring. Not becoming less loving.

But becoming more whole.

And perhaps that is the invitation of this season: not to become someone new, but to become more fully acquainted with all the parts of who we already are.

With love,

Lance
Village Builder and Healer type guy ◡̈