Embracing My Shadows: A Journey of Self-Discovery

Shadows are always with us

The first time I heard about shadow work it sounded ethereal, maybe even a little hokey pokey. Integrating your shadow? Come on. I worked hard not to roll my eyes. All I could picture was my own cartoony shadow chasing me around, Peter Pan style.

Curiosity got the best of me, though. A quick Google search revealed that shadow work is just a term for identifying and integrating the parts of ourselves that are repressed, unconscious, or deemed undesirable. Not just acknowledging them but truly accepting them as part of who we are. It turns out, I had been doing shadow work for over two years—I just called it professional coaching, therapy, standup comedy, public speaking, or writing. Essentially, it's learning about yourself, understanding your patterns, and ultimately, embracing all your pieces.

The Beginning of My Shadow Work

My journey with self-discovery began in February 2020, when COVID was just a whisper in a hallway. I was at a large conference for work, crying in a bathroom. Professionally, I felt unseen and unvalued. Personally, I was going through a devastating divorce. I had sold my home and was living with my dad—something that felt like the ultimate shame.

In that moment, fate intervened. A friend of a friend overheard my sobs and introduced me to T, a physical therapist-turned-professional coach. I thought she would help me find a new job. Instead, she helped me find myself. T gave me a personality assessment that revealed truths I had long suppressed: I am blunt. I make decisions quickly. I have strong reactions when I’m stressed. I read the results and felt embarrassed. None of these are qualities women are traditionally encouraged to have. But over time, T’s words sank in:

Nothing about this is bad. You just need to recognize who you are and what you’re built for.

She told me things I was scared to believe: I think differently than most people, which is why I get easily frustrated. I thrive in environments that require change. I am built to be a leader, which explained my frustration at watching decisions unfold without being able to influence them. Once I embraced these parts of myself, things started to shift. Work got better, I got promoted. I’m not a CEO, but I now protect thousands of people across 36+ states. And I wouldn’t have gotten here without knowing who I am.

The Shadows That Linger

But shadows don’t all come out at once. If they did, it might feel like the end of Ghost, and we’d probably run screaming.

Fast forward to December 2022. I was lying in a hammock under palm trees, having a full-blown panic attack. I couldn’t breathe. I was crying. Something was wrong. I needed therapy.

More shadows emerged:

• The perfectionist who will do anything to feel loved.

• The little girl who never thought she was worthy.

• The child who just wants someone to take care of her.

• The yearning for love and the guilt over my divorce and the death of my first husband.

And then, there was my need for attention.I love being in front of people. It’s a rush like no other. But I denied that part of me for years, dismissing it as frivolous, unworthy, not valuable. I wanted to be taken seriously as an executive.

But here’s the truth: I am so much better now that I’ve embraced these parts of myself.

Finding Power in Vulnerability

Talking about my experiences—the things I once wanted to bury—has been the most liberating part of this journey. Over the past year, I’ve spoken more openly about being a domestic violence survivor and what it meant to divorce a spouse who was actively addicted to heroin. And something incredible happened—the more I shared, the more people came up to me and said, Me too. Thank you for sharing. I never could. Out of the shadows, we come.

I’ve also leaned into my love of performing. I started doing standup comedy, and it has been one of the best things I’ve done for myself. Standup is a masterclass in failure, in resilience, in learning to accept yourself in real-time. And what’s even wilder? My job wants me to be funny now. They ask me to host events because humor makes people feel comfortable. What a paradox.

Letting My Shadows Work Together

My shadows aren’t separate entities anymore. They are learning to work together.

• My need for control? It’s why I thrive in leadership. I don’t need to be a CEO to have influence—I already do. But I also started my own company in 2024.

• My helper complex? I’ve realized I can’t save the people I love from themselves. I couldn’t stop my ex-husband from overdosing. I can’t force my current husband to listen. Sometimes, helping means letting go.

• My inner artist? She is thriving. I host an open mic for women in standup, and watching them step on stage for the first time—terrified, but trusting me to hold space for them—is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever experienced.

And then, there’s my insecurity—my fear of failure. My ex-husband once told me, You don’t know what it’s like to fail.

And he was right. I only ever took calculated risks. But standup changed that. In my first class, I played it safe with a joke about Medicare requiring prior authorization for penis pumps. It landed. But the next class, I took a risk—I tried a joke about my ex-husband’s heroin addiction, using a pun on the word heroine. It bombed. The air left the room. But I didn’t die. I learned that it’s okay for people to feel sad about a sad story. It’s okay to be vulnerable. People aren’t as judgmental as we think—maybe. I’m still working on believing that fully.

Now, I let my control freak, my helper, my artist, and my insecurity play together. My artist tells my insecurity, Dude, chill. Everyone is afraid of failing, which means you really can’t fail. My control freak rolls her eyes at that, but my helper? She negotiates peace between them. My shadows are no longer lurking in the dark. They are part of me. And for the first time in my life, I am truly, unapologetically whole.