01/15/2026
The Social Moment that Reveals a Toxic Dynamic
At a social event last night someone responded to my history with a lengthy explanation about how everyone has a shadow--bigger and smaller depending on where the sun is--and that the important thing is facing the light. If the shadow is behind you, you’re moving in the right direction.
I bristled.
She had positioned herself as the one who sees clearly and me as the one who needs guidance. That creates a hierarchy: knower and learner, teacher and corrected person.
The shadow story presented as instruction asked my nervous system to submit, accept a reframe, and regulate her comfort by taking in the lesson politely. That is the opposite of safety. It replicates the dynamics of harm.
Her assertion also rewrote what actually happened. It turned sustained harm into a universal inner struggle. It smoothed over power differential and threat, and replaced them with a tidy story about attitude and orientation.
What I lived was not a shadow. It was repeated, unpredictable, frequent, degradation and physical abuse at the hands of caregivers. This included approximately 175 incidents of suffocation torture after abduction into a year of domestic and s*x slavery. I was fifteen. After I escaped, my father blamed me for the abductor's behavior.
Things worsened 8 years ago, after I asked for help with severe complex PTSD from extreme developmental trauma. I was subjected to psychiatric and medical abuse on repeat. That involved non-consensual gynecological surgery, followed by the state of Delaware's refusal l to hold the perpetrator accountable.
From an Interpersonal Neurobiology lens, human beings are shaped by what happens between people when danger is present. Does it stop? Does someone intervene? Does the environment become safe enough for the body to stand down? If the answer is no, the body goes into survival mode.
“Walk toward the light” language skips over my lived experience and biology. It implies that healing is a matter of perspective. It places the burden on the person who was harmed to transcend what was done to them, while letting the reality of the harm remain untouched.
The shadow story centered her comfort. It asked me to perform resolution so the conversation could stay pleasant. That is a familiar demand. Many of us learned early that other people’s ease mattered more than our truth.
Part of me wants to stay away from her. It recognizes a move that minimized harm and blurred responsibility. Another part of me wants to give her one chance to understand the difference between metaphor and reality, between internal struggle and external domination.
Interpersonal Neurobiology lives in those moments, in how we assess whether someone can tolerate hearing about power and sustained threat without retreating into platitudes.
If I say, plainly, that what happened to me was about control and ongoing danger, not shadows or lessons, and she can stay present with that, then something relational might be possible. If she needs to explain herself, defend the metaphor, or reposition me as negative or unfinished, then the answer is clear.
I will distance myself. Not to punish her, but to reduce unnecessary demands on my nervous system.
This is why I no longer accept language that reframes harm as personal growth. It doesn’t bring light, but dims truth. And truth, not metaphor, allows real connection. That, not keeping your face to the sun, is the foundation of recovery.
