Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual’s conscious life, the blacker and denser it is.

If an inferiority is conscious, one always has a chance to correct it. . . .

But if it is repressed and isolated from consciousness, it never gets corrected.

—C.G. Jung, Psychology and Western Religion

The shadow sounds scary, doesn’t it? Dark, ominous, formless, foreboding, morally shady, elusive, creepy, even evil. When we talk about the shadow as Jung defined it—the part of our unconscious mind that contains what we reject and hide from—the very thought of its existence can put us on edge, like we’re not really our own masters. Like we’re carrying around this bag of toxic garbage, and it’s weighing us down. But according to Jung, the shadow will always be with us, and it serves a clear purpose. It’s not trash; it’s compost.

Can you imagine yourself as a small child, born helpless into a family with its own dynamics and value systems? You knew, even in infancy, that you needed to adjust to the powers that be to survive. As you started to understand how some behaviours or moods got rewards or punishments, you shape-shifted to your best advantage, structured your inner world, and showed up accordingly. Was your nature, or your behaviour, considered too loud? Too needy? Too competitive? Too sad? Too hungry? Too angry? Too sensitive? Too shy? You learned that Mom and/or Dad didn’t approve. Society didn’t approve. Red alert. Start camouflaging yourself, even from yourself.

It is the self-preserving, self-protective part of us that pushes away what is deemed unlovable, unacceptable, and dangerous by our families and the larger world. As we grow up, that lifesaving reflex develops into a crucial skill for getting by. What is successful moves into the limelight. Everything left over that doesn’t fit, that feels shameful or enraging or destabilising, or even too brilliant and visionary, is relegated to the shadow.

The shadow may primarily dwell outside daily consciousness, but it never stays fully hidden. It impacts our beliefs at the edges of our awareness, erupting into waking life at the most inconvenient times. It emerges, sometimes with overwhelming force, when we’re shaken, triggered, heartbroken, scared, angry, jealous, or in crisis. It rules compulsions and addictions, irrational-seeming fears and unhealed traumas. Sometimes the shadow takes control when things are going so well that we can’t believe it. It comes along to help us sabotage ourselves to maintain safe equilibrium, no matter how dull and empty it’s become. 

Jung defined the shadow not just as the seat of so-called negative emotions and complexes, but as a rich and meaningful part of the greater self, crying out to be consciously acknowledged and integrated into a healthier, more vibrant whole. Integrating that through shadow work can be an intimidating idea, but it is not a penance. It is a hunt for treasure. And besides, life demands pushing our limits to thrive. For humans, that means facing our greatest darkness.

Humankind has devised numerous ways to avoid the discomforts of life’s stressors, wildly repressing our emotions, turning to substances, compulsive scrolling, or obsessively positive thinking to numb our experiences and mask our truths.

Escapism provides a temporary relief, but suffering is an essential component of the human condition. Viewing the shadow as part of a healthy ecosystem, like Jung did, takes us out of victimhood. We are the ones who created our shadows, and we, too, possess the ability to bring them back into the light, back into our own sight, to confront our deepest fears, question the narratives we’ve constructed about our identity and worth, and reforge our relationship with ourselves and the world around us.

Extracted from The Book of Shadow Work by Keila Shaheen (out now from HQ, £20)