Let me tell you something straight out the gate: shadow work is not pretty.
It’s not sweet.
And it sure as hell isn’t about aesthetics.
The Descent Is the Initiation
You wanna be a witch? Then start acting like one. Not the curated-for-Instagram kind. I’m talking about the witch who goes willingly into the dark, barefoot and shaking, because she knows that the answers don’t live in the light—they live in the shit you don’t wanna touch.
You think you’re healed because you stopped crying?
Nah.
You’re numb.
You buried it.
And what you bury doesn’t die. It festers.
Shadow work is digging up the bones and asking, What the fuck are you still doing here?
And then listening. Really listening. Even when the voice sounds like the version of you you’re most ashamed of.
Triggers Are Teachers (Stop Ghosting Your Lessons)
If someone says something and it makes your chest tighten, your stomach drop, your fists clench—that’s not just “drama.” That’s data. That’s your shadow slapping you across the face and saying, Hey bitch, I’m still here.
We spend so much energy trying to avoid being triggered, but what if the trigger is sacred?
What if it’s not there to hurt you, but to point you to the part of you still bleeding?
Let it.
Let the rage rise.
Let the jealousy burn.
Let the shame choke you until you realize it’s not yours to carry anymore.
Then fucking alchemize it.
Alchemize (v.)
/ˈal-kə-ˌmīz/
To take the raw, the painful, the ugly—rage, grief, shame, trauma—and transmute it into something powerful.
To turn your wounds into wisdom.
Your triggers into truth.
Your fear into fucking fire.
It’s the sacred process of owning your shit, sitting in it, and choosing to rise anyway—new, raw, and real as hell.
Shadow work isn’t just about healing. It’s about alchemizing.
Stop Spiritualizing Your Coping Mechanisms
Here’s the thing nobody wants to say: a lot of what people call “intuition” is actually unhealed trauma.
A lot of “boundaries” are actually fear. (We’ll unpack boundaries in another post—because damn, that’s a whole-ass thing of its own.)
A lot of “discernment” is just your wounded inner child calling the shots.
This is why shadow work matters.
You can manifest all day, but if the thing you’re calling in is just another illusion built on unhealed shit, you’re not manifesting—you’re repeating.
Let’s be honest.
You don’t need another oracle deck. (Ouch!)
You need to ask yourself why you still shrink when someone tells you “no.”
Why you panic when someone doesn’t text back.
Why you keep loving people who treat you like an afterthought.
That’s where the magic is.
Not in the ritual—but in the reckoning.
Your Power Is In What You Survived
You know why I love shadow work? Because it reminds you that your power isn’t in your polish. It’s in your fucking scars.
The shadow is where your rage lives.
Where your sensuality got buried.
Where your voice got swallowed down like poison.
Where your wild got chained.
But guess what?
You still exist.
Which means your fire never went out.
It’s just waiting for you to come back and claim it.
A Priestess Challenge (For the Brave Ones Only)
Take ten minutes.
Light a candle, sit your ass down, and write a letter from your shadow to your conscious self. Let it say whatever the hell it needs to say. Let it scream. Let it accuse. Let it wail. Don’t filter it. Don’t pretty it up.
When you’re done, read it out loud.
And if your hands are shaking by the end?
Good.
That means you’re finally listening.
This Work Isn’t Cute. It’s Sacred.
You can do all the goddess rituals you want.
But if you’re not willing to sit with the wounded child, the rageful teenager, the bitter lover, the broken mother, the wild slut, the jealous sister inside you—you’re not doing the work. You’re just cosplaying your healing.
Shadow work isn’t about becoming a better version of yourself.
It’s about becoming a truer one.
And yeah, it’ll hurt.
It’ll strip you raw.
But babe… you were never meant to stay buried.
You’re meant to rise.
Covered in ash.
Wings smoking.
Eyes blazing.
Like the fucking Phoenix you are.
🖤 Journal Prompts for Going Deeper Into the Dark
- “What part of me feels the most unlovable—and where did I learn that?”
→ Trace it back. Was it a look, a moment, a sentence that broke something in you? Don’t sanitize it. Sit in it. Let it speak. - “What do I secretly judge or resent in others—and how does that live inside of me?”
→ This one’s a mirror. Shadow projections show up loud in judgment. If it triggers you in someone else, it’s usually pointing to a wound, fear, or desire you haven’t claimed yet. - “If I let my rage speak without shame, what would it say?”
→ Let her howl. Let her spit and snarl. No “nice girl” edits. What has your rage been holding onto that your heart hasn’t dared to name?
That’s some powerful shit there