Beyond the Light: A Witch's Thoughts on Toxic Positivity and the Power of Shadow Work

Let me tell you something that might ruffle a few crystalline feathers: not every emotion is meant to be high-vibe. Not every person you encounter is meant to "serve your joy." And sometimes, the most profound spiritual growth doesn't come from cutting cords—but from tying them, weaving them, and understanding their origins.

In our current spiritual climate, where "good vibes only" has practically become gospel and "cutting off negative people" is offered as a universal prescription, I see a growing wound being papered over with glittery washi tape.

As a witch—especially one who walks a path steeped in rootwork, spirit communication, and ancestral reverence—I want to speak plainly and powerfully about something I see all too often: the spiritual bypassing that masquerades as “positivity,” and the deeper healing that comes when we step into our shadow instead of running from it.

The Cult of Constant Light

We live in a time where the idea of “toxic” has become weaponized against any discomfort. Feel sad? You’re toxic. Angry? Low vibe. Depressed? You must not be manifesting right. Someone struggling in your life? Cut them off, protect your peace, raise your frequency.

Now, don’t get me wrong—boundaries are sacred. Energy is precious. Not everyone is meant to be in our inner circle, and it’s okay—necessary even—to walk away from abusive dynamics. But what I’m talking about is something different. It’s this rising tide of spiritual avoidance that calls itself healing.

When we begin to equate all discomfort with danger, and all pain with toxicity, we’re not healing—we’re hiding. We’re building a false altar to the sun, pretending that endless light will save us.

But any witch worth her salt knows: no spell works without the dark.

The Shadow Is Sacred

In Jungian psychology and in many magical traditions (including Hoodoo, witchcraft, and even certain folk Catholic practices), we talk about the shadow—the hidden, wounded, shamed parts of ourselves we’ve pushed down or cast out.

These parts are not evil. They are not toxic. They are true. They are often the parts of us that have been hurt the most deeply, and therefore they protect themselves with anger, fear, or disconnection. And when we try to bury them under forced gratitude, fake smiles, or incessant "lightworking," they don’t go away—they grow louder in the dark.

Shadow work is the practice of turning toward these pieces with honesty and compassion. It is messy, non-linear, and often painful. It is not about "fixing" ourselves. It's about witnessing all that we are—including the parts that we’ve been told make us unlovable.

And here’s the kicker: you can’t fully love yourself until you love your shadow too.

Toxic Positivity in Witchcraft Spaces

In magical and metaphysical spaces, especially those filtered through the lens of social media or commercial spirituality, there's an overwhelming push for aesthetic, ease, and endless joy. Crystal grids perfectly arranged. Candle flames always high and steady. Smiles plastered over every “healing” moment.

But magic isn’t always beautiful. Healing isn’t always graceful. Sometimes it’s screaming into the wind, crying on the floor, confronting your ancestors, or admitting you’ve been the villain in someone else’s story.

I’ve watched witches and spirit workers shy away from grief because it felt too “heavy.” I’ve heard spiritual influencers call depression “low vibrational.” I’ve seen people shame themselves for being angry—when anger is often the exact spell you need to break a cycle.

We are taught to fear discomfort when in fact, discomfort is the doorway.

In Hoodoo, we don’t ignore pain—we name it. We light a candle, pour libations, and speak to our dead about it. In shadow work, we don't cast out the demon—we sit with her and ask, “What are you trying to protect me from?”

Not Everyone Who Challenges You is “Toxic”

Here’s another truth that might sting: not everyone who tells you something hard is toxic. Not everyone who hurts your feelings is bad. And not every “negative” person in your life is holding you back from abundance.

Sometimes, we confuse mirrors for monsters.

If you have a friend who lovingly calls you out on a pattern you refuse to see, that’s not toxicity—that’s medicine. If someone in your life is grieving, angry, or struggling, and you label them as “low vibration,” that’s not healing—that’s abandonment.

When we surround ourselves only with people who reflect our preferred version of reality, we lose access to transformation. We lose the edges where growth happens. We begin to believe that the world is meant to bend around our emotions, instead of learning to navigate its beautiful complexity.

Real magic isn’t sterile. It’s gritty, tangled, full of contradictions—and so are real people.

My Personal Shadow: A Witch’s Story

I’ll tell you a little something from my own path. Years ago, I was neck-deep in love-and-light witchery. I had my altar covered in rose quartz, I saged my flat daily, and I genuinely believed that thinking positively was the key to manifestation.

But deep down, I was anxious. I was angry. I had old trauma I hadn’t touched. I was pushing away people who reminded me of my unhealed self and calling it "protecting my energy."

It wasn’t until I started doing real shadow work—ancestor veneration, inner child healing, trauma integration—that my path began to shift. I stopped seeing emotions as problems to fix and started treating them as allies. I stopped avoiding “negative” people and started asking what my discomfort around them was teaching me.

Now, when someone cries in front of me, I don’t feel the need to fix it. I make tea. I pull a card. I let the moment be what it is. That’s healing. That’s magic.
In fact, if you’ve spent much time with me in person, you’ll know that I find great joy in that moment mid-reading when the tears start to fall, because the emotional release is necessary to begin true healing and understanding.

So What Is Toxic Positivity?

To be clear, I’m not anti-hope. I’m not anti-light. I believe joy is a spell, and laughter is sacred.

But toxic positivity isn’t about joy—it’s about control. It’s the insistence that only certain emotions are allowed. That grief must be wrapped up in gratitude. That every challenge is “a blessing in disguise” (even when it’s just a wound that needs time).

Toxic positivity teaches us to deny our humanity in favor of an ideal. And if your spiritual practice doesn’t make space for your full humanity, it’s not worth its salt.

Practical Witch Tips for Shadow-Rooted Living

If you’ve read this far and feel that resonance deep in your belly, here are a few ways you can bring more shadow integration into your practice:

1. Make space for your “negative” emotions.

Light a candle and let yourself feel anger, grief, fear—without trying to change or reframe it. Ask it what it needs. Write it down. Burn it safely.

2. Create a shadow altar.

Dedicate space on your altar to parts of yourself you’re working with—symbols of fear, anger, shame. Offer them time, energy, and visibility.

3. Work with grounding herbs.

Instead of always reaching for high-vibe florals, try mugwort, burdock, dandelion root, valerian, or patchouli. These plants pull you down—and that's a good thing.

4. Talk to your ancestors.

Some of your patterns aren’t just yours. Light a glass of water and a white candle. Ask your ancestors to help you carry and transform what’s too heavy alone.

5. Let people in.

It’s okay to not be okay. You don’t have to be “healed” to be worthy of love, community, or magic.

The Real Work of the Witch

Witchcraft isn’t about perfection. It isn’t about curating an image of enlightenment or banishing every shadow. It's about relationship—between the seen and unseen, the sacred and profane, the light and the dark.

The moon wanes and waxes. The wheel turns. The snake sheds its skin. And we, too, are meant to evolve—not by rejecting our pain, but by honoring it.

So next time someone tells you you're being “too negative,” or to “just think positive,” remember this: you are not broken for feeling deeply. You are not behind on your healing because you’re still grieving. You are not a bad witch because you have bad days.

You are real. And in that realness, there is power. There is magic. There is truth.

May we never fear our own shadows. May we never shame the people who reflect them to us. May we brew healing that tastes like honesty, not just honey.

Because sometimes, the medicine we need is bitter—and that’s how we know it works.