Let’s talk about her. You know the one. That insistent whisper in your mind, the one that shows up when you dare to dream too big or love yourself a little too loudly. She’s the inner critic who rolls her eyes at your reflection, scoffs at your ambition, and resurrects your worst moments like a highlight reel of shame and self-doubt.
That voice? That’s your shadow.
And let’s be honest—sometimes, she’s an absolute menace.
I know her well. I’ve spent countless mornings at the bathroom mirror, afternoons in boardroom chairs, and quiet nights in bed with her coiled around my confidence. She is cunning, cloaking her criticism in the name of caution, or “realism.” She’s always prepared with a list of reasons why you shouldn’t try, shouldn’t ask for more, shouldn’t believe in yourself.
But here’s what I’ve learned after years of trying to quiet her: your shadow isn’t trying to destroy you. She’s trying to protect you.
Understanding the Shadow
In the world of personal growth, “shadow work” might sound like an abstract, ethereal concept reserved for journal pages and incense-scented retreats. But truly, it’s one of the most grounding, gritty, and healing practices we can commit to.
Your shadow is the sum of your hidden hurts—those tender spots formed by rejection, shame, criticism, or unmet expectations. She is the version of you who took on the world’s pain before you had the tools to process it. And now? She’s the part of you scanning for danger, even when you’re just trying to be brave.
I met my shadow head-on during one of the most destabilizing seasons of my life. My career was slipping through my fingers, motherhood left me wrung dry, and my marriage was unraveling thread by thread. I was the master of putting on a smile in public and falling apart behind closed doors. And just when I tried to rise, she’d lean in with a dagger of a question: “Who do you think you are?”
And I believed her. For a while.
The Turning Point
It took therapy, sacred conversations with soul sisters, and a whole lot of ugly crying in parking lots before I realized: my shadow wasn’t the enemy. She was the embodiment of every outdated belief I had inherited—from my family, my culture, and a society that constantly tells women to shrink themselves.
She wasn’t right. She wasn’t even rational. But she was loud.
So, I did something radical. I stopped fighting her and started listening.
When she told me I was failing, I asked what she was afraid of. When she insisted I wasn’t good enough, I met her fear with compassion. And when she tried to sabotage my growth, I thanked her for trying to keep me safe—and then I chose courage anyway.
It wasn’t a perfect process. It never is. But day by day, that voice softened. We found a rhythm. I stopped letting her drive, but I did let her ride shotgun—because even the fearful parts of me deserve to be seen.
From Shame to Self-Compassion
Here’s what I want every woman reading this to know: You don’t have to banish your shadow to be free. You just have to stop believing she’s the only voice worth listening to.
That part of you—the one who’s scared, bitter, guarded, or angry—she’s not “bad.” She’s hurt. She’s human. And she needs your love, not your rejection.
Growth doesn’t come from silencing our pain. It comes from honoring it.
You can absolutely hold doubt and dream big. You can wrestle with your insecurities and still walk into a room like you belong there—because you do. You can cry in your car on the way to a meeting and still show up as the badass, multi-dimensional woman that you are.
The goal isn’t perfection. The goal is wholeness.
A Ritual for Real Life
Next time your shadow whispers something cruel or cautionary, try this little practice:
- Pause. Close your eyes. Breathe deeply. Name what’s happening. “This is my shadow talking.”
- Ask her what she’s afraid of. Is she trying to protect you from failure, embarrassment, or abandonment? Recognize the wound behind the words.
- Thank her. Literally say, “Thank you for looking out for me.” And mean it.
- Reassure her. “I’m not in danger. We’re safe now. And we can try something new.”
- Step forward anyway. That’s where your power lives—in the action you take even when you’re scared.
Dancing with Your Darkness
Wholeness doesn’t mean you never hear your inner bully again. It means you know how to respond to her with grace. It means embracing your flaws, your fears, and your fire with the same tenderness.
Because here’s the secret: your shadow isn’t just a bully. She’s a mirror. And when you dare to look closely, you’ll see the most wounded version of yourself still trying to belong, still trying to be loved, still trying to keep you from breaking again.
But you’re not breaking—you’re blooming.
So let her dance with you. Let her show up. But teach her the steps. Lead with love.
And the next time she says, “Who do you think you are?”
You’ll smile and say, “I’m me. All of me. And that is more than enough.”
