How I See Shadow Work (and Where to Begin)

Shadow work gets thrown around a lot these days like it’s a quick fix, as if it will be that simple. But to me, it’s never been about chasing the high. It’s about honesty and finding a way out of the pain; that I felt I had never deserved. It’s about sitting with the parts of yourself that you’d rather run from. And it’s about realizing that those parts have been carrying medicine all along.

My Personal Path Into the Shadows

For me, shadow work didn’t come in a pretty package. It came in the form of anger I couldn’t control, addictions that nearly swallowed me, and grief that forced me into places I didn’t want to look.

I remember nights where I felt haunted. Sometimes it felt like evil entities other times not so much, what I was truly haunted by was the weight of everything I refused to deal with. And honestly? The moment I stopped blaming “dark spirits” or "being cursed" and started realizing it was my own unacknowledged pain… everything shifted.

That’s shadow work: meeting yourself where it hurts.

The Native Way of Sitting With Darkness

In Native traditions, we don’t call it “shadow work.” We call it living in balance. The old ones knew that you can’t live only in light, the sun sets every night. The dark is part of creation, part of teaching.

Some ceremonies are done in darkness on purpose. You sit with the fire, you hear your own breath, you feel the weight of your spirit. You let the silence press in on you until you realize: you are still here. You haven’t been destroyed by facing what’s inside.

That’s what my ancestors have always taught: the shadow isn’t here to kill you. It’s here to humble you, to teach you, to remind you of your power to endure.

Getting Better at Labeling My Rambles

I’ve noticed something in myself recently. I need to get better at labeling my rambles. Because what feels like me just spilling thoughts actually carries guidance that can benefit people who are still at the very beginning of this work.

Some of you are still in the depths, still struggling, still thinking you’re cursed. I know that feeling. I used to believe the same thing. That I was broken, marked, or doomed. But here’s the truth: you’re not cursed. You’re being invited. Weird right?

Those “hauntings,” that heaviness, that sense of being trapped? That’s your shadow asking to be seen. Once you face it, you realize it’s not an outside force punishing you, it’s your own soul calling you back to yourself.

Where to Begin

If you’re new to shadow work, don’t overcomplicate it. Here’s how I started, and how I still return to it when I feel unbalanced:

1. Notice your triggers.When someone pisses you off, ask: what part of me is being poked? Why does this feel bigger than it is?

   
   

2. Create space. Light a candle, or even just sit quietly. Don’t run from the thoughts. Let them come. (Sometimes I’ll sit with herbs blessed the way my people always have, smoke and prayer make the room feel safe.)

   
   

3. Write it raw. I’ll journal the ugliest things I don’t want to admit. Rage, jealousy, guilt, grief. No filter. The page can hold it. Trust me whatever your feeling, someone else also has. If not one, multiple upon thousands.

   
   

4. Ask for guidance. Whether you pray to Creator, your ancestors, or simply your higher self, speak it aloud. Ask: what am I meant to see in this?

   
   

5. End with gratitude. Even if you don’t get answers, thank yourself for looking. Thank Spirit for sitting with you. That alone is medicine and honestly it takes patience and time to get answers. Thats a lesson they love to teach 'Divine Timing'...patience.

   
   

A Personal Story

Shadow work got real for me when I had to face the abuse I went through. Sexual abuse isn’t something you just “move on from.” It sinks into your body, it makes you distrust your own instincts, and it leaves you questioning if you’ll ever feel safe in your own skin again.

For a long time, I didn’t even call it what it was. I buried it, thinking if I stayed busy or strong enough, it wouldn’t touch me. But it did. It showed up in my relationships, in my fear of being vulnerable, in the way I’d shut down or get angry over things that didn’t match the actual moment. That was my shadow screaming at me: “See me. Don’t keep ignoring me.”

When I finally stopped pretending, shadow work didn’t look clean. It looked like me crying alone, shaking, writing things I didn’t want anyone to ever read. It looked like lighting candles and praying in desperation, not because I thought I was powerful, but because I felt powerless.

What I learned is this: my abuse wasn’t my fault, but the way it shaped me became my responsibility to heal. And shadow work gave me a way to stop running from that pain. To admit: yes, this happened, and it hurt me. But it doesn’t own me anymore.

That’s one of the deepest places shadow work took me to the point where I could sit with my trauma and not let it define my whole story.

Shadow work isn’t trendy. It’s ancient. My ancestors taught it without naming it. I’ve lived it in addiction, grief, anger, and healing. And you can begin it right where you are.

Start small. Notice your reactions. Pray over your space. Write your truth down. Sit with it.

And remember: your shadow is not your enemy. It’s your teacher.

If you live in the light too long, your eyes forget how to see in the dark. Shadow work is learning to walk there without fear because half of you lives in that place, waiting to be remembered. -Carly F.