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Blog Post

ME AND MY (YES, MY) SHADOW

Updated: Apr 19, 2023

Shadow Work for Dummies X




Beneath the social mask we wear every day, we have a hidden shadow side: an impulsive, wounded, sad, or isolated part that we generally try to ignore. The Shadow can be a source of emotional richness and vitality, and acknowledging it can be a pathway to healing and an authentic life.

– C. Zweig & S. Wolf


My personal shadow began before I was born. It grew tremendously in the days immediately after and has remained a constant presence in my life ever since.


This is a portion of my story from the beginning.


You may relate to some of it. Or your shadow-story may be entirely different. Comparing the facts of your story to mine is not helpful, while identification with the feelings -- the common feelings we all share -- is immensely healing – for everyone.


When we listen to each other without judgment or comment, with empathy and love, we both share in something bigger than the both of us – and the process of healing happens organically, naturally.


So, this is the origin story of me and my shadow:


My mother was born just a few months after the start of the Great Depression of 1929, to a fairly poor Italian family. The stress her mother must have felt during that era of history, when grinding poverty was a constant threat must have impacted my mother’s development.


And mine!


How? It’s a scientific fact that, when a woman is born, she has all of the eggs she will ever have for her whole life. According to the American College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists (ACOG), a female fetus typically has around 1–2 million at birth.


Why am I telling you this? Because it means that part of me already existed in physical form in 1929, even though I was born some 30+ years later.


Stress hormones in my grandmother’s body would have affected my mother gestating in the womb, and also affected me as one of 2 million oocytes hanging out in mom as a fetus.


Wild, huh?


So physically, we all are on Earth much earlier than the date of our birth, and (creepily) existed in our maternal grandmother’s womb, experiencing (on some level) the energies, traumas, joys, and reactions they experienced during those times.


Then I – and my shadow – were born. Birth many agree is traumatic in and of itself. Leaving the sheltering darkness and warmth of the womb, with the constant soothing heartbeat of our mother, with all of our needs met, is jarring.


While it may not be written in our conscious memories, experiencing birth remains in our very cells,

and is certainly within our subconscious –

influencing much of our behavior, reactions and perspectives later on in life.



Safe and protected, free-floating in nurturing liquid, we are forced, compelled to leave that place, into the cold air and harsh lights of the world.


Then within days, another major trauma occurred, one which I was not consciously aware of – but which my body carried a strong, unpleasant memory.


The details did not become clear until well into adulthood, when my father came to a therapy session with me. It was his first time in my therapist’s office, and he would only come once more.


Dad was a very loving man, but, like many of his generation, had an extremely hard time being loving. He was often cold, walled-off, guarded and tense. When I catch a glimpse of my face with a tight-lipped, displeased appearance, I see my father.


But he was willing to come to a therapy session, and that was huge. My therapist said to him, “You know John is in recovery for substance abuse, but do you also know he is in recovery for sexual issues?”


My dad did not know that. My therapist then asked him, “Is there anything in John’s past that might account for his sexual obsessions?”


Dad – tight-lipped, walled-off and emotionally closed and closely guarded, didn’t hesitate:


“I never liked it!” he blurted out, without having to think about it. “Your grandmother would change your diaper and – very harshly, flick your penis with her finger saying, ‘Look at the little pishadill.’ I never liked it."


Suddenly, a tremendous flood of light illuminated a significant area of my life, which up until then had been shrouded in darkness, a hidden, but ever-present shadow.


Hidden because I consciously had no idea about this event.


But ever-present because my body held a very strong memory of this event (or events!). And now it had been revealed.


Throughout my childhood, I was plagued by painful body-memories that became unbearable whenever things were quiet: at school, in church and in bed at night. Whenever there was no activity going on, and I was left alone with my thoughts, these feelings in my body would arise and haunt me.


As a six- or eight-year-old, I had no words to describe it and certainly had no inkling that I could ask an adult.


The traumatic and the trivial are the two kinds of information your mind represses.

– Renee Fredrickson, Ph.D. in A Journey to Recovery from Sexual Abuse


These traumatic events comprised the foundations of my shadow-self, that shame-based part of me that followed me, haunting me all of my days.


The effects of these events and how they shaped my “choices” and my life are too immense to detail in one short blog post. Yet anyone can imagine that a life directed by – and lived in reaction to – one’s shadow-side is a life of tremendous challenge, confusion and pain; a perplexing existence where one cannot explain one's motivations or why one does things.


I’ll give a brief example, one out of many:


In my pre-teen and teenage years, I would have homework to do. I would wait until late in the evening on Sunday, after a weekend of playing and watching television to start my homework. Yet instead of doing my homework, I would dither and dilly-dally and balk and delay and futz around.


And then it would be time for bed, and I still wouldn’t have done my homework. My unease, my worry – even dread – was tremendous. I couldn’t get to sleep. I tossed and turned for hours.


The next day I would wake up tired, knowing I would be in trouble with my teachers and with my parents. I walked to school in a state of high anxiety. And shame.


I could never explain why I didn’t do my homework. I just didn’t. I spent infinitely more energy not doing my homework than the energy I would have spent just doing it and getting it over with.


And I couldn't have told you why. In my mind, I was lazy. I was rebellious. I was bad, defective, stupid, stubborn, and defiant. There was no other explanation…


In reality, I am none of those things. I am today tremendously productive, creative, functional and anything but stupid.

But back then, not having the words or the information about what “made me tick” I was left with the only explanation I could come up with.


My solution, at age 14-15 was to start experimenting with drugs and alcohol. Paradoxically, they made me feel normal… for a time.


Perhaps next week, I will pick up the thread of this blog post. I never know until I sit down on Sunday with my French Press café and Radio Deluxe what Spirit has for me to write about.


I hope this gives my readers some insight into my story of my shadow, and the possibility that you, too, can heal from whatever traumas and indistinct patterns that plague your life.


I have! And continue to do the work to heal, body, mind and spirit.


Happy Sunday (bon dimanche)


John


I am available to do Prosperity Now! individual or group sessions or general life-coaching, I Ching readings, dream interpretation or join us for our weekly Wednesday Course in Miracles group.

Please contact me at prosperitynowlifeofdreams@yahoo.com or sign up on my website: http://www.johnafrederick.com

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