Dare I love my shadows
photo by Elias Tigiser
Just as the light seeps in through the dark, dense trees, our shadows are majestic yet afraid; our shadows are scars yet still hurting; our shadows are wailing yet still quiet. Our shadows are hidden deep within the dark depths of our souls, never allowed to be seen by anyone, never allowed out in the light.
I've always been afraid of my shadows: the seemingly dark and daunting beings who follow me through every step of my life, haunting my dreams, and who don't ever seem to leave me alone. As I grew older, specifically at 17, I always wished that I could understand my shadows more and understand how to be okay with having them.
My family’s heritage is Indian, however, they’ve lived in Kenya for over 100 years. I was born in Kenya, but at the age of five, my family moved to India to expand our business, which eventually didn’t work out. Somehow, through a miracle, we were able to move back to Kenya when I was 13. I vividly recall being so ecstatic to meet new people and go back to my home country. What I didn’t expect was my initial fear of people and not understanding the ways that they communicated. Having to move back to Kenya eventually made me lose contact with my childhood friends from India. I never expected to leave them, but I realized that I changed as I grew older and so did they. We tried to maintain contact but eventually drifted apart, which made me feel extremely alone at times. I was nostalgic for the past whilst trying to build friendships with new people in Kenya. I would often get upset at myself for how I was reminiscing about my past self and old life when my new life was better in so many ways.
As I settled into my life in Kenya, I had a difficult time connecting to people at school and, through these experiences, I was very self-critical and harsh towards myself. I was overly worried about people and afraid of them. I would self-sabotage by never giving myself space to understand my strengths or who I was. I would often question myself and think there was something wrong with me that people didn’t like or understand. I would embody their hurtful words that I was not good at communicating and that I was incapable of making friends. I sat with those words for years. Any way of connecting to people was stopped by the voices of others that filled my head.
“I was afraid of love without realizing that I was. I always thought that I was simply incapable of love, without realizing I was afraid to truly experience and express love.”
This changed during the pandemic when I was no longer meeting my relatives or people at school. During this time, I realized the person who matters the most to me is me. The words I choose to hear and tell myself are the ones that make a difference. This was when I started to spend more time by myself: time reflecting on my past, questioning beliefs that were never really mine, exploring my soul, and exploring my mistakes —though it wasn’t in any way glamorous. I spent my time reading and writing in nature. I fell in love with literature and explored my hobbies, as well as the things that were important to me. During my time alone, everything seemed to move from haziness to clarity. I was able to address my shadows of fear and being afraid of people and their control over situations. I also came to understand something crucial, which is that I am all on my own. If I don’t take the time to fully see myself for who I am, how can I expect someone else to do so?
During this time I was also able to explore the meaning of shadows and what they look like in my life. Shadows are the parts of ourselves we would much rather keep hidden in the dark; these are also the parts of us that need the most love. Our shadows are any qualities of ourselves we dislike, find shameful, or are even afraid of. Shadows represent the side that always stays hidden — that we are willing to protect from being seen at any cost. Before now, I have always tried to hide so many things about myself from everyone. I have tried to hide the fact that I can be very short-tempered at times; I can be highly suspicious of people's intentions towards me; I can be overly critical about myself and others; I can be afraid of failing; I can be constantly guilty of everything; I can be super self-conscious and timid around strangers; I can be paranoid about love and feelings of love.
A particular shadow I would like to call forward is my current difficulty with being vulnerable. I have always been afraid of letting people know that I feel certain emotions of sadness or empathy with the fear of getting hurt. This fear always controlled how I showed up in situations that required love, being that I never knew what it meant to love or be loved. Looking back now, I see that if infinite love is possible, it was the love that my grandfather had for me when I was a child. He was someone who showed me so much love in so many ways, all the time. Even when he had so many reasons to be upset at me or himself, he was always striving to embody love. I remember him buying me hundreds of little sweets every day and letting me eat them secretly. He would always cheer me up when I was upset. He would drop me off at school and pick me up with a big smile. He would forgive me instantly for anything I did, and, despite my protests, he would go out of his way to do these things because he wanted to keep me safe.
I, on the other hand, never truly understood love. I was afraid of love without realizing that I was. I always thought that I was simply incapable of love, without realizing I was afraid to truly experience and express love. The only emotions I would feel were anger, fear, and frustration, as though I was supposed to be angry and that anger was my substitute for love. Anger was a lived-in home for me. I had seen people in my family always get angry at each other, and it was so easy for me to embody it and allow it to consume me. I would almost make myself believe that I was anger itself, nothing more, nothing less. If I was not that, I was not anything. In this mentality, I took all of my grandfather’s love for granted just because it was always available to me. I was so used to my anger that I never truly let myself experience his love, nor was I able to return it. When I did finally open my heart to love and understand it, it was too late to reciprocate. I was almost 15 when my grandfather passed away after being in the hospital for a month with pneumonia. His death was painful, unexpected, and scary.
“I am able to see that I can’t linger on my past self and, even though these qualities of my shadow — the anger and avoidance — still live in me, they are not fully alive; only when I give them the power to be unleashed can they exist. I ultimately have the power over how I choose to see a situation and how I choose to respond; whether that is out of anger or love, it is my choice.”
While he was in the hospital, with wires all around him and large ventilator tubes down his throat, I refused to look at him or meet him because it was too painful to see. After his death, I realized what a huge mistake I’d made because he had still been alive; he could have felt my presence in the hospital. I like to think of what we would do if he was alive now — now that I am different and more loving. If he were here, we would write poems together, read books and talk about them, go out to cute cafes and try different drinks, pet lots of cats, read my poems, go out in nature, bake cakes and eat them all alone together. If he was here, I would never miss a day to show my love to him. Still, to this day, I struggle to accept my actions towards him; I struggle to forgive myself for who I was, and I regret never showing him my love.
How do I forgive myself? How do I forgive who I was 5 years ago, 10 years ago, 2 years ago? How do I see myself as someone who was naive and weak and is now learning to love herself? How do I see that my shadows are part of me? I was able to do so during the pandemic in 2020 when there was so much time for me to reflect on myself. I found that the first step to accepting my shadows and my shadow self was forgiveness and acceptance. I do still struggle to forgive myself, however, I have come to accept who I was when I was full of anger. I am able to look her in the face and empathize with her to understand why I did what I did and why I was incapable of embodying love. I am able to see that I can’t linger on my past self and, even though these qualities of my shadow — the anger and avoidance — still live in me, they are not fully alive; only when I give them the power to be unleashed can they exist. I ultimately have the power over how I choose to see a situation and how I choose to respond; whether that is out of anger or love, it is my choice.
Where does this power of choice come from? It comes from being open to every emotion of life and by being vulnerable with ourselves and one another. Seeing someone be vulnerable is powerful. Being vulnerable yourself? That is a whole different complex equation to solve. Vulnerability. Sounds so simple at first, “Go right ahead — go ahead and pour out all of your shadows and secrets and mishaps to another human and you shall be free.” Totally achievable right? Nothing scary about it… Well, if I were to see it in another light, being vulnerable doesn’t always mean sharing deep secrets about yourself. Being vulnerable is being empathetic to others. Being vulnerable means opening your heart to love. Being vulnerable is being able to see the light and the darkness within someone and still love them. Being vulnerable is loving and embracing your younger self for who they were. Being vulnerable is knowing that you might get hurt but loving someone anyways. Being vulnerable is showing up for people, even with your own scars that still hold pain. Being vulnerable is being beautiful and messy, fearless and timid, selfless and protective all at the same time for yourself and others, and that is divine.
Nature, too, is vulnerable. The way the light seeps into the water in the ocean creates beautiful shadows on its surface. Nature knows that when it mixes the elements of light with the essence of water, it is fully exposed and vulnerable. Just like how I allow love in and allow it to touch my murky shadows, in that moment I am vulnerable. I was touched by this light of love so beautifully the first time that I ever went to the ocean at the age of 19. Before then, I had always feared the ocean, its depths, its mysterious self that it doesn't show through the surface, and the unknown that was so scary I would much rather avoid it. I still remember the moment my feet touched the water. I had never felt more at peace or more alive. I could see the light from the sun seeping into the water, creating beautiful shadows on its surface. This light felt pure and divine and so did the shadows it created. My body felt serene and infinite — as though I could accomplish anything. The ocean, as I see it, is like my shadow side: the deeper I go, the scarier it gets. The deeper I go, the quicker I want to rush back to the shore. Yet, the deeper I go, the more infinite my body and my spirit feel. I am alive like never before.
“The shadows [created by the light] are mine; a part of my being, my other half, and without them, my soul is forever incomplete.”
The journey to accepting my shadows began by trusting myself, radically, in a way that no one ever has or ever can. We often seek others to provide us with the love and trust that we deserve and crave, yet very rarely do we project this love upon ourselves. It can be so simple to love someone else and love their flaws, but not when it comes to ourselves. I’ve found that radical self-trust is when, despite my actions, I am willing to trust my body, mind, and soul towards its choices and to simply let it be and let go of the need to control everything. I know what is essential for me at this very moment and at every moment.
I am not saying that I will be able to forever accept my shadows. I will keep discovering new ones or re-discovering older ones. If I simply allow them to be without judging them, then I have embodied life and opened myself to its beauty.
Just as the light seeps through the branches, it twinkles like jewels on my hand. This light is beautiful and divine. It touches my skin and an instant warmth comes flooding in and I know I am safe; I know I am protected. The shadows it creates are mine; a part of my being, my other half, and without them, my soul is forever incomplete. Now, I am more open to love and more vulnerable in order to embody love. I am learning each day what it means to love and understanding that love isn’t that scary. Learning to forgive myself for who I was is freeing and being vulnerable to life is beautiful and divine.
