What You Refuse To Own Will Own You: Shadow Work And Projection

For most of my life, I thought “shadow work” sounded like something other people did. The dramatic ones. The mystical ones. The ones with crystals and incense and journals full of moon water.

I thought I was just being a “good person.”

I followed the rules I was given. I stayed polite. I swallowed my anger. I put other people’s needs ahead of my own and told myself it was love. I tried to be patient, forgiving, and endlessly understanding.

In my mind, I was serving God, goodness, family, community, all the things I was taught were holy.

Then at some point, I wrote this down and felt my stomach drop:

Your shadow becomes the god you serve while you deny yourself.

When you try to banish it, it does not disappear. It possesses you in secret.

You chase it in relationships, fight it in your enemies, or pass it on to your children.

What you refuse to own will own you.

I stared at those lines and thought, “Well. There it is.”

Not my entire life story, but an uncomfortable amount of it.

Step 4 is where I had to stop pretending that my shadow was a side note. It has been the main character more often than I want to admit.

The God I Thought I Was Serving

When I say “god” here, I am not talking about one religion or belief system. I am talking about whatever internal authority you are most afraid of disappointing.

For me, that authority was stitched together out of:

what my family rewarded

what my community approved

what my faith tradition called “good”

and what my nervous system decided was safest

The god I thought I was serving told me things like:

Be nice.

Be grateful.

Do not be too loud.

Do not make people uncomfortable.

Do not need too much.

Do not embarrass us.

On the surface, those look like virtues. Underneath, there was a shadow screaming.

The parts of me that felt used, angry, lonely, or deeply unseen were not actually gone. I had just learned to deny them so quickly that I could almost believe they were not there.

Almost.

The truth is, those disowned parts were the real god I was serving. I built my life around not triggering them. I shaped my choices around not feeling them. I would do almost anything to avoid facing how resentful, exhausted, or abandoned I sometimes felt.

That is what I mean when I say your shadow becomes the god you serve. You end up obeying what you refuse to look at.

Possessed In Secret

I used to think “possession” was a horror movie word. Now I hear it and think about all the times I said, “I do not know why I did that.”

I did not know why I stayed too long.

I did not know why I kept saying yes when I meant no.

I did not know why certain people could spin me out with one sentence.

Looking back, I can see plenty of reasons.

My banished anger did not disappear. It found side doors. It came out as sarcasm, silent treatment, fantasy, over-functioning, people-pleasing, and the kind of “forgiveness” that was really just me dissociating and calling it grace.

My buried grief did not disappear either. It turned into numbness, then into over-investment in other people’s lives. If I could not feel my own pain, I could at least help you with yours. That felt safer.

From the outside, some of that looked kind and generous. On the inside, it often felt like something else was driving, and I was just along for the ride.

That is what shadow possession looks like in regular, non-movie life. You keep making choices you do not fully understand because you have never been allowed to name the feelings underneath them.

Chasing It In Relationships

The parts of ourselves we refuse to own tend to walk right back into our lives on someone else’s legs.

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If I do not admit I have anger, I find people who are comfortable expressing rage. They say and do the things I secretly wish I could, and I orbit them.

If I do not admit I have needs, I might end up with partners or friends who are very needy. I pour everything into them and call it love so I never have to sit with the fact that I am starving too.

If I do not admit that I judge people, I might cling to someone who says the cutting things out loud while I sit there shocked, clutching my pearls, secretly relieved.

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We call this chemistry. Or “I do not know why I am so drawn to them.” Or “I always attract the same kind of person.”

Really, we are chasing our own shadow around the room and hoping it will resolve itself without us ever having to make eye contact.

Protecting It 'in' Enemies

Sometimes we do not chase it. Sometimes we fight it.

You see someone online or in your family who embodies everything you reject in yourself and you become obsessed.

You:

watch what they do

talk about them all the time

gather stories about how terrible they are

You might even build an identity around not being like them.

But here is the twist. When your life is organized around “I am not that,”

that “not that” is still running the show.

If my shadow is “selfishness,” and I build my identity around never being selfish, I might push myself past exhaustion, refuse help, refuse pleasure, and quietly judge anyone who takes up space.

On the surface, I am “the giving one.”

But underneath, selfishness is still the reference point. I am protecting the shadow indirectly by never questioning the extreme I swung to in order to avoid it.

This is one of the hardest pills to swallow in Step 4.

My enemies, real or imagined, have often been mirrors. I did not want to admit what I saw there.

Passing It On To Your Children

Here is the part that hurts the most to write, and the reason I refuse to skip Step 4.

If you will not hold your own shadow, your children will end up carrying it for you.

Not because you are a monster. Because this is how systems work.

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If you were never allowed to be loud or vulnerable or afraid, you might snap when your child is loud or vulnerable or afraid. You are not just reacting to them. You are reacting to everything you were never allowed to be.

If you were rewarded for being the responsible one, you might lean too hard on the responsible child. They grow up learning that being “good” means meeting other people’s needs and never dropping a ball.

If you were taught to hate your own sensitivity, you might accidentally roll your eyes, make a joke, or offer a Bible verse or motivational quote because you cannot tolerate the feeling of watching someone do what you were punished for.

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None of this means you do not love your kids. It means the shadow you refused to own found another way into the room.

This is why Step 4 matters. Not because we need one more reason to feel guilty, but because we finally have a chance to interrupt the pattern instead of repeating it.

Owning What Owns You

So what does it actually mean to “own” your shadow?

For me, it has looked like telling the truth in sentences I never wanted to say.

I can be resentful.

I can be controlling.

I can be judgmental.

I can be needy.

I can be avoidant.

I can be selfish.

And also:

I can be kind, loving, loyal, creative, and deeply committed to growth.

Owning my shadow does not mean I like those parts or that I want to act them out more. It means I stop pretending they are not in the building.

Once I admit, “Yes, that lives here too,” I can actually make choices. I can pause before reacting. I can apologize. I can repair. I can parent differently. I can walk away sooner. I can grieve what I was not allowed to be, instead of passing that grief down like an heirloom.

Step 4 is not about shaming yourself. Shame keeps the shadow underground. Step 4 is about telling the truth so the shadow does not have to drag you around by the collar anymore.

This is the heart of shadow work and projection: the parts of you that you refuse to acknowledge do not disappear; they simply act out through your choices and relationships.

What you refuse to own will own you.

What you are willing to own, you can finally begin to change.

A Slice of Humble Pie

For years, I thought my “goodness” was proof that I had no shadow, or at least a very small and polite one. I did not want to admit how much anger, envy, judgment, or grief I actually carried. I told myself I was serving love, God, and family values. In reality, I was serving an image and letting my unspoken feelings run everything from behind the curtain, and owning that has been humbling. It means admitting that I have hurt people, including my own child, in ways that came from my unacknowledged story. I cannot go back and redo it, but I can stop pretending the shadow is not mine. That honesty is where my repair work really begins.

Reflection

Think about one trait you absolutely do not want to see in yourself. Maybe it is selfishness, laziness, neediness, anger, judgment, or something you were taught was especially shameful.

Where does that trait actually live in you? How do you bend your life around never being “that,” and how does that bending hurt you or the people you love?

Then ask a harder question: where do you see that same trait in the people you choose, the people you despise, or the way you parent or care for others? Notice how your shadow shows up in relationships, in enemies, or in the stories you tell about your family. You do not have to fix it all today. Step 4 simply asks you to tell the truth.

Affirmation

I am brave enough to see the parts of me I was taught to hide, and I choose honesty over inherited shame.

Thank you for reading. If this stirred something in you and you’d like to spend more time with this work, you can explore The Humble Pie 12 Steps and learn more about how I support people as a trauma recovery coach.