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Meeting the Shadow: My Journey as a Therapist into the Hidden Self


As a body psychotherapist, I often speak with clients about the shadow—the part of ourselves we rarely acknowledge, the part that hides in the corners of our being, often expressed through tension, silence, or reactions that feel foreign, even to us.

But the shadow is not just something I’ve studied or helped others work through. It’s something I’ve come to know deeply within myself. And it’s only through that personal encounter that I’ve truly come to understand the depth of its impact—and its healing potential.


The Nature of the Shadow

The shadow is a psychological concept that describes the repressed, denied, or hidden aspects of ourselves. These might be emotions we were taught were “wrong,” impulses we felt ashamed of, or parts of our personality that didn’t feel safe to express in our families or cultures.

Carl Jung gave language to this phenomenon, but as body psychotherapists, we see it not only in the mind but in the body. The muscles that hold back tears, the jaw that clenches around unspoken words, the breath that becomes shallow when sadness or anger rises—these are the ways the shadow makes itself known.

The body remembers. And often, it remembers what we have chosen to forget.


My Personal Encounter with the Shadow

My first real encounter with my shadow wasn’t in theory—it was during a body psychotherapy session where I, the therapist, became the client.

I was lying on the table, receiving deep work. My therapist placed her hand gently on my back. There was silence—only breath and presence. And suddenly, something unexpected happened. A heat rose from deep inside me, followed by a wave of emotion I didn’t recognize. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to push her hand away.

It wasn’t a thought—it was a reaction coming from somewhere ancient inside me. Rage, grief, fear… it was all there, tangled together. And I didn’t even know why. I had no words at first, only sensation.

That moment was the beginning. The moment I realized there was a part of me I had kept hidden, even from myself.


Understanding the Shadow’s Role in Healing

That experience—and many more that followed—taught me that the shadow isn’t something dangerous. It’s something misunderstood. It carries our woundedness, yes, but also our power. And when left unacknowledged, it shows up in the body as illness, chronic pain, emotional numbness, or self-sabotaging patterns.

When I began to face my shadow with curiosity and compassion, something shifted. My work with clients deepened. My relationships became more honest. I no longer needed to pretend I was okay when I wasn’t. I allowed myself to feel fully, and in that, I found a deeper strength.

In my practice, I’ve witnessed how unresolved shadow material can manifest in the body: a frozen shoulder that won’t heal, tension in the diaphragm that reflects held grief, chronic fatigue rooted in unexpressed rage. The body will always find a way to speak.

Techniques I Use in Shadow Work

In my sessions, I use several approaches to help clients connect with their shadow in a grounded, embodied way:

  • Somatic awareness: We slow down and notice bodily sensations without judgment. Often the shadow first appears as tension, resistance, or numbness.

  • Touch and breath: Hands-on work and breath exploration can unlock stored memories or feelings that were long held beneath the surface.

  • Inner dialoguing: We give voice to the part of the body that hurts or feels ignored, often uncovering insights and emotional truths.

  • Imagery and metaphor: Sometimes the shadow communicates through symbols or dreams. We explore what the body is showing us beyond words.

Importantly, this work is never rushed. It requires safety, presence, and respect for the pace of the body. The shadow can’t be forced into the light—but it can be invited.


Reflecting on the Transformation

After doing this work myself, I began to notice subtle but profound changes. My voice felt clearer. My boundaries were firmer. I no longer needed to “manage” my emotions—they were simply part of me. I became more present in my body and more available in my relationships.

I see this in my clients, too. As we begin to acknowledge what’s been hidden, we reclaim parts of ourselves we didn’t know we’d lost. We integrate rather than divide. We soften rather than shut down.

And slowly, healing becomes not about perfection—but about wholeness.


Lessons I’ve Learned

Working with the shadow has taught me this:

  • The feelings we repress don’t disappear—they wait.

  • Our culture often teaches us to hide what’s real and reward what’s polished. But it’s the raw, vulnerable parts that lead us back to ourselves.

  • The body holds everything. Every story, every wound, every truth.

  • And above all, self-compassion is essential. Without it, shadow work becomes punishing. With it, it becomes deeply liberating.



The shadow is not our enemy. It is a part of us longing to be seen, felt, and integrated. In body psychotherapy, we don’t just talk about the shadow—we touch it, breathe into it, and meet it where it lives: in the body.

I encourage anyone curious about this path to explore it gently, with support, and to remember—your shadow holds the very parts of you that, once welcomed, can lead to deep transformation.

  • Man in shadowy profile against green background. Text reads: "The Shadow that is a part of The Year that is part of Us. Shadow that Inner and Out." Mysterious mood.


 
 
 

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