Plant medicine, shadow work, and the ache of un-becoming
Day two of my shadow work week took me to places I didn’t expect.
My ritual theme for the day was to meet the grief, the rage, the parts of me that were silenced. To compost what in me must die.
I assumed my day would be hard, heavy, and full of catharsis.
I didn’t expect to the joyfulness.
🎧 My Journey Playlist: Shadow Dwelling – a playlist for deep emotional release rituals. Let buried truths rise.
Intentions
I asked the plant medicine to show me what I’ve buried and promised that I would not look away.
I knew that I was at a threshold. That what would come of this week, of that night, could quite possibly be the death of one identity and the beginning of another.
It could be a portal. To myself. To my soul.
A key to uncaging myself.
The day started in stillness, but the night had other plans.
What came through in the plant medicine journey was not just visions—but a release in motion.
These are the reflections of the wild somatic ride at the threshold of descent.
Wild Ride
Tonight was wild. I’ve done plant medicine before. Even the same dosage. But never alone nor in an intentional ritual like last night.
I opened sacred space. Called in my Spirit team. Cleansed my body. Submerged into a ritual bath.
The cards reflected to me where the journey would take me.
Shedding identity. Leading with curiosity. Honoring ritual.
But the journey took me to places that my mind didn’t imagine.
I’m still processing.
Across the Threshold
As the medicine opened, there were some swirls and pulsing colors, soft visuals expanding into the ether.
Then…so much joy.
Each cell of my being was bursting with joy!
I couldn’t stop hugging myself, smiling, and giggling. Embracing little me as big me.
Little me was so grateful and happy that I was giving us this time to connect. Safe. Free. Just to be with each other in this beautiful space. Surrounded by healing waters. Floating in a liminal space of pure love.
I don’t know that I’ve ever felt so much joy.
Then tears. Lots of tears.
Streaming down my face as I felt both deep sorrow and profound euphoria simultaneously.
The immense beauty and extreme pain of being human.
Experiencing love and loss in the same moment. Over and over again.
Laughing at how silly it all is. How hard I try. How hard we all try.
With arms still wrapped around me and a smile on my face, I lost myself in the universe above me where time didn’t exist.
Lucidity befell me to discover my body in an arched, lifted posture. It was moving. Not in a way I forced. Not like stretching. More like unwinding.
Without effort, my mouth started opening wide. My body contorted again.
Like my body was remembering how to speak. Or scream. My neck cracked. My arms reached for the sky. My chest kept opening. Releasing.
I couldn’t control it. Couldn’t stop it. I could only surrender.
I am willing. I am safe – I reminded myself.
My body curled, shifted, stretched. I felt everything. No pain. Just presence.
This went on for what felt like hours.
It felt like I was being breathed.
Maybe for the first time.
My body was doing what it needed to do to release something old—something deep.
There were no words.
Just gratitude. And love.
Gratitude for giving myself this time and space. For reconnecting with the little me, wild and silly. For allowing my body to safely release what it has been holding onto for decades.
Love for allowing my whole self to be witnessed.
Integration
This morning, my body still aches—in a good way.
It’s like my body is saying, “Thank you for not ignoring me.”
I cried brushing my hair.
I stared at myself in the mirror and thought, You’re still here. I’m so sorry I left you for so long.
I’ve been so in my head, trying to figure everything out. Trying to fix me. But this wasn’t about figuring out anything. There was nothing to fix. It was about letting go of control. Letting go of versions that were never me.
The cards reflected what I felt.
Say goodbye to the life you once knew. Embrace who you truly are. Integration is not explanation – it’s a slow return.
This was grief. Not about anything specific—but maybe about everything.
Every time I betrayed myself to be chosen.
Every time I silenced myself to be safe.
Every time I ignored what my body was screaming just so I could stay in the room. Or the relationship. Or the job.
I felt raw. Tender. But more me.
More in my body than I have in years.
The rest of the day called for nesting.
A day in my pajamas. A muffin and tea. A massage. And curling up in bed again.
And that’s what I did.
Not every shadow reveals itself in words. Not every shadow is dark.
Sometimes, it expresses suppressed joy and silliness.
Sometimes, it’s the body that releases what was hidden first.
And sometimes…you don’t need to understand it yet. You just need to stay. Witness. Let it move through you.
Let it move you.
With joy, with tears, and elation.
End note: This piece is part of the Harvesting the Raw series, exploring what surfaced during my solo shadow work week in a village in the woods by the bay. I published these out of order because healing isn’t linear. You can start with Part 1 here and move to Part 3 here.
