Lessons in Hibernation, Part Three: Light Through the Fog

36435DDB-999E-4C8D-BE51-DCDB443EBE57.jpg

What a strange year it has been. It's hard to say when the fog rolled in. It must have been early March. It rolled in slowly—crept in, rather, as it always does. By the time I noticed it was there, it felt hauntingly familiar.

Depression is an old friend—though the kind of depression I experience is more of a general malaise, paired with intense lethargy. I don't really get sad because I don't really feel anything at all... except for a crushing invisible weight on my shoulders. All I want to do is lie down, back against the floor, and stare at the ceiling. I spent a lot time as a teenager, on-and-off, staring at ceilings. Sometimes, even when I'm in a good headspace... like when I'm stretching at the gym, as I stare at the ceiling, I feel a certain wave of comfort roll over me.

When I'm in this foggy headspace, as I'll call it, any kind of movement feels like I'm trudging through sludge. Even the simple act of standing in the shower feels painful. My shoulders will ache, my body cries out to get closer to the floor—to lay down—to ground itself however it can. To roll in a ball. To burrow. To hibernate.

During these phases, I generally cut out most forms of self-care. I don't go to the gym as often, I lose interest in makeup or hair care or fashion, and I stop listening to my body when making decisions on what to eat. Because I don't have as much energy to expend, I save energy by cutting out what I'd spend on myself. In an effort to ensure I don't damage my relationships, I use all my energy to turn myself 'on' around other people.

I am not looking for pity here. The depression I experience is, at worst, very high-functioning. The feeling of 'weight' and lethargy is consistent, but I am still capable of having a genuinely good time with friends—when I actually choose to see them. I still enjoy laughter and stimulating conversation, and I get shit done around the house (though it feels more like a slog than it should). I stick to my deadlines. I enjoy walks with my dog. I make jokes with my husband. I get goofy. I am able to 'turn off' the utterly lethargic vibes when I'm chasing a distraction, like a weekend away or a night out for dinner.

But when life normalizes, when the distraction ends, the crushing pressure returns. If I'd been starring in a movie about my life over the past two months, it would be called Killian and her Invisible Friend Who Enjoys 24/7 Piggybacks and Spiking Killian's Tea With Sleeping Pills — and, I mean, with a title like that, it's an Oscar shoe-in, for sure.

Of course, there's always a reason for this kind of fog. 

I've been part of a women's group since last fall, and at the start of this year we'd been diving into some heavy subjects—hate, fear, and judgment. At our meetings, we began to confront cultural pressures and how they impacted us. We'd go around the room and confess our deepest fears and the parts of ourselves we'd been trained to hate.

Working with a group of women is magical—the speed at which we can grow together is so much faster than when we journey through growth alone. You see yourself—and all the issues you thought were so unique or personal to you—mirrored in all of these beautiful people around you. When a woman who you see as strong and capable and powerful admits to feeling weak and unworthy and small, it breaks something deep within your heart. Because you start to recognize that all the women you see as strong and capable and powerful have parts of themselves that feel weak and unworthy and small. And because you realize that woman is also you. 

I always knew I had dark spaces in my heart. I knew that I had long suffered with insecurities around self-worth as it related to physical appearance, money, status, and power. But I had never been in a room where, when every single person confessed what she hated most about herself, I thought, "but you're so strong and beautiful! How could that one thing overshadow the radiance of your wholeness??"

It made me wonder: are the parts of myself that I hate, or hide, overshadowing my radiance, too? 

Enter: the fog.

Gaining Clarity: I'm learning that the fog is my ego.

Looking back at the rhythm of my life, the fog comes to visit whenever I'm in the midst of some kind of transition—when life is forcing me to go inward or I'm feeling the need to make big declarations about "who I am" or "what I'm doing." I'm reading a book called The Dark Side of the Light Chasers, which references this quote by Sogyal Rinpoche:

"Ego is our false and ignorantly assumed identity. So ego, then, is the absence of true knowledge of who we really are, together with its result: a doomed clutching-on, at all costs, to a cobbled together and makeshift image of ourselves, an inevitably chameleon charlatan self that keeps changing—and HAS to—to keep alive the fiction of its existence."

I love that. The ego clutches at you desperately—holds you down, hides you from your true beauty—"TO KEEP ALIVE THE FICTION OF ITS EXISTENCE."

I mean, really think about that: "the fiction of its existence."

Your ego is not who you are. The ego is the mask you wear, the guard you put up, the protection you carry. And when the ego feels threatened, when it feels you try to take it off, to reveal what lies beneath, it will do whatever it can to stop you.

Two months ago, when I asked myself the question, "is my highest self still being overshadowed?" the fog came through. The discomfort, the malaise... it's the ego's defense mechanism. "Do not pass Go. Do not dig deeper. It's too hard, too hopeless." And then I had the breakthrough I discussed in Part 1, where I realized that my body image issues were still controlling me. Even though I had claimed them long ago and done the work to overcome—by making myself vulnerable, working with my inner child to heal the wounding, practicing daily self-love—I was STILL HOLDING ON to deeeeeeply rooted beliefs that my body was not perfect, and that a perfect body is the only kind worth having.

But not only that—BECAUSE I had done so much work on these issues, I was actually harboring SHAME for not having overcome them!Shame is your ego's most precious possession. 

It is your SHAME that the ego wishes to protect you from. It cannot fathom that owning your shame is freeing, because shame hurts. So the ego buries it deep down—and then it overcompensates for it. If you have shame surrounding a time when you acted with no integrity, lying about a mistake you made that might have thrown someone else under the bus—the ego may overcompensate by giving you intense feelings about integrity moving forward. You may start to work hard to prove how much integrity you have—and judge others who aren't exhibiting it, because you secretly judge yourself.

When I unearthed that I was still being controlled by my stories—when I felt SHAME for that—the FOG GOT REALLY HEAVY. And then I had my second breakthrough surrounding self-worth and money. It wasn't that this issue was a new discovery. Oh, believe me, I was keenly aware. Part of leaving full-time employment, part of taking the risk to pursue my own path—it was a conscious decision to confront these very issues. It's just that I didn't know how much SHAME I'd been harboring around the subject. When I talked about my fears around finances, I'd speak as though I was actively confronting them head-on—and I believed I was! But I was lying to myself about how much shame it really caused me. And that inhibited me from breaking free from its power over me. When my dad called me and asked if I was okay, and I broke down sobbing out of nowhere... the universe was offering me a gift.

Earlier that day I'd asked it to show me the way out of the fog. It's answer was, "identify what still hurts. take your power back."

And that's what led me to shadow work.

Breaking through the fog:

You cannot cut off your shadow. You can only shine a light upon it.

We had already been doing a lot of shadow work at my women's group, unbeknownst to me. Any time you dive down and uncover your fears, hates, anxieties—any issues or feelings that cause you deep shame, or that feel like they'd be painful to say out loud, it's shadow work. But I came across the phrase "Shadow" in a roundabout way. (A very synchronistic way, as it turns out).

I'd been following Jenna Zoe, a Human Design reader, for a couple of months. I hired her for a reading, which was relatively profound (more on that in a later post), and I've been particularly drawn to her ethos that all anyone really needs is to decondition themselves from society's expectations and to allow themselves permission to be exactly who they are. It sounds simple, but so do most complexities in life. It became clear to me that Jenna had a strong connection with an LA wellness blogger named Lacy Phillips, who runs the blog Free and Native. Lacy is a manifestation guide—she runs a business that helps people manifest their dreams.

At first, Lacy triggered me. "This person charges how much to do what?" She claimed to have a system for manifestation that no one else had come up with before, and touted older systems of manifestation as dated and deficient. I was skeptical. "Really? No one else has come up with a system like yours? You broke the ultimate code for manifestation?" But then I started reading her blog, and following her on Instagram, and I started to notice two things. (1) The people who worked with her were seeing results, and (2) Her system wasn't just about manifestation—it was guided therapy disguised as (and with the added benefit of) manifestation.

After all, the basic tenant for manifestation is the law of attraction, right? If you set yourself up to the right frequency, you will attract what you desire. But you can't attract what you desire if your frequency is off—so HOW do you unblock your frequency? By working through your shit. And man, did I ever relate to that sentiment.

In fact, this blog was born of that concept—that in order to be your authentic, thriving self, you have to confront what hurts. I even gave my initial heart logo a twisted smile and a crossed-out eye to symbolize the duality of healing. What Lacy has managed to do is categorize the work in a structured, systematic way (through modular workshops), and come up with a reward for the behavior (manifest your heart's deepest desires). She makes it abundantly clear that you cannot manifest properly if you are blocked in some way—e.g., if your subconscious is secretly harboring shame around your relationship with money, you won't be attracting it properly. And to help her clients clear these mental blocks from their system, she's created a few mini-courses called UNBLOCKED, REPARENT, and SHADOW. Each of these courses is about de-conditioning yourself from your programming—releasing yourself from your unhealthy stories.

This. Is. Therapy.

But it's the best kind of therapy—the kind that forces you to do the work, complete the exercises, and offers you tools to get through it. Though I haven't taken any of Lacy's courses, I now completely value their place on the internet—and I'm sure they're worth every penny. My initial reaction to her, as I'd later confirm, was a projection of my own baggage—the fact that I, too, was attempting to speak this message to people (in so many words).

I was projecting my own self-doubts about my competence onto her. Intrigued by the workshop titled SHADOW, I googled "Shadow Work"—I'd heard the term somewhere before. And then, there it was: a summary of Carl Jung's philosophy on the Shadow Self. Psych 101, I see you! The more I researched, the more I realized the work I'd already been doing—the work I'd ALWAYS been drawn to—was based on Jung's theory. It was through Lacy's blog that I found the book The Dark Side of the Light Chasers.

This book is changing my life.

Reading this book feels like a twisted sort of deja-vu. Like, if I were on the path to writing any kind of wellness book, it would be this one, verbatim... but ten or twenty years from now, once I'd actually gathered the data to be able to support and articulate my theories. It honestly feels like I'm reading my thoughts from the future. Of course, I'm not. It's all the work of Debbie Ford, and I'm so glad she did this work because now I won't have to! Ford explains so much that I won't be able to articulate in just a few words, so I encourage you to buy the book (or download it on audible, which is helpful when she gets to her guided meditations).

But her overarching point is this:

in order to release yourself from being controlled by your ego, being ruled by judgement, you have to unearth ALL of your shame and lay it on the table.

Since doing this, since taking ownership of all of my shit, my fog has lifted. Entirely.

I feel brand new.

And I mean, I'm owning ALL OF MY SHIT. I am calling out ALL of my shame, large or small. Because even the small stuff adds up.

Here are a couple examples of where shame shows up in the small stuff:

  1. The other day Jaren and I were walking downtown and started to hear a thunderous beat coming from a few streets over. A raging outdoor concert. I asked, "what do you think that is?" He teased, "Why, are you shook?" Jaren loves to tease me for being easily shaken or thrown off my guard. I HATE when he teases me about that. It triggers me—because I don't WANT to feel like I'm easily shaken. I don't respect people who are easily shaken. I think it's weak. So normally, I would have rolled my eyes and been like "ugh, no, I was just curious, damn it!" ... This time, I thought about it... I looked at Jaren, and I laughed, "Yeah, I think I'm a little bit shook!" And in a weird way, as we laughed about how easily 'shook' I am... it brought us closer. Because who cares if I'm easily shook?! Being easily shook has actually been a blessing at times—it's forced me to be on high alert in sticky situations. It has actually HELPED me get OUT of sticky situations faster, because I was able to foresee them.

    Letting go of my internal shame of 'being seen as weak' freed me SO much in that moment and allowed me to feel authentically me—which is playful, care-free, and able to give zero fucks about what anybody else thinks of me!

And that's a beautiful side note, by the way, that's addressed in this book: the traits we have that cause us shame often BENEFIT us without us knowing it.

If you're ashamed of being weak, think about all the ways your 'being weak' has actually worked in your favor. Alternatively, if what you're ashamed of is truly abhorred by society (like, I don't know, maybe you purposefully belittled your siblings because it made you feel big and powerful...), notice how your shame for that aspect of yourself actually helped you to be a "better" person. Maybe you're someone who really cares about people's feelings now. Acknowledging how you've benefitted from your shame can set it free. It has served its purpose. (Another example: we aren't murderers because we feel shame for the parts of ourselves that are capable of murder... so, good on us for going the other way!)

2. I was scrolling through Instagram and this woman showed up on my feed who I follow because she's a wellness person who occasionally offers solid insights, but she triggers me to no end. I hate her voice and I see her as super inauthentic and obsessed with herself. When she came up on my feed last, and I got that "gross" pit in my stomach, I asked myself: is there a part of MYSELF that I am ashamed of... that I'm reminded of when I see her? I was able to admit to myself that, yes, somewhere in my conscience, I can be narcissistic. Also, she reminds me of the popular girls I went to high school with, who I couldn't stand—but I really only couldn't stand them because I felt rejected by them. When I didn't feel accepted by them, I went the other way. I became alternative. Deep down, though, there's a kid inside who wants to be popular. And I've been ashamed of her because I've taught myself that the popular archetype is stupid.

See how layered this kind of work can be!?

But the reality is: I love who I've turned out to be by going the 'alternative' route. Being rejected by the cool kids made me who I am, which I think is pretty fucking cool. So who cares if I am a closet popular girl wannabe? I can set her free, she no longer serves me. Wanting to be "liked" by people is NOTHING TO BE ASHAMED OF.

As soon as I admitted that to myself, this wellness blogger stopped triggering me.

Do you see how empowering this work can be?!

It's no wonder the fog has lifted! My shadow self—what I depicted as my 'inner dragon' in my latest instagram post—is finally getting the attention it so deserves. It was my 'shame and money' breakthrough that lifted the bulk of my fog—I had been feeling so heavy because I was living each day of my life feeling inadequate because I wasn't bringing in 'enough' money. And I was lying to myself by trying to convince myself that it "shouldn't" matter. It DOES matter to me! And that's fucking okay. The SECOND I admitted that... I felt the weight come off my shoulders.

IT IS AMAZING HOW THE BODY QUEUES YOU WHEN YOUR MIND IS FOOLING ITSELF.

Your shadow is your shame. Your ego is the mask you wear to protect you from your shame. Your highest self is YOUR WHOLE BEING.

Your highest self is as all-knowing as she is because she sees, she understands, and she embraces your shadow. She is not afraid of her, nor does she put her down.

Your highest self is the radiance you manifest when you stand fully in your wholeness.

I fully expect to be visited by my fog again.

Life ebbs and flows. We are never 100% free from our shadows—as live evolves, we collect more baggage. When I become a mother, for example, I will probably start to experience new forms of shame in that new role. If I get a new job, or I'm confronted with different personalities than I'm used to in my day-to-day, old shames I may have forgotten about may float to the surface. This is a lifetime of checks and balances. And that's okay.

What I come away with now, though, is an understanding of what my fog is asking me to do: unveil and embrace the shadow.

So, when it visits me again, I'll know. Lay my shame on the table. Shine a light on the shadow.

This has been a very long blog post. If you have been kind enough to read to this point, I hope you feel encouraged to stop and take notice next time something triggers you. If someone pisses you off, or if you feel judgement toward someone—what about that person irks you so much? And CAN YOU FIND the part of yourself that harbors—in ANY CAPACITY—the trait you're so repulsed by?  Debbie Ford says, "If you begin the process of un-concealing your shadow and a voice inside starts screaming for you to stop, know that it's only your ego fearing its own death."

I think you'll find there's freedom in your fear.