Breaking the “Good Girl” Myth
A pink box with a shiny golden clasp sits on my dresser. I slowly open it, and the music begins to play. Gracefully, she rises from her resting place, full of beauty and perfectly poised, turning as the music continues. She has a delicate smile and glassy eyes, never resting from the dance she has been created to perform.
As I close the lid, I wonder what happens when she is out of sight. I imagine a magical world that stretches beyond the confines of her felt-covered walls. I dream that when the box is closed tight, the beautiful dancer comes to life and is free to explore a world full of wonder.
As a young girl, I never fully understood how much I related to the ballerina in the music box. During my childhood, I developed the belief that I needed to project an image of perfection, just like her. Whenever I was on display, I felt the pressure to be the "good girl." There were parts of myself that I could share with the world, while others had to remain hidden in the darkest corners of that box.
Over the years, I unconsciously made decisions based on what aligned with my "good girl" image and what was considered unacceptable.
I defined a good girl as someone who goes with the flow, keeps her opinions to herself, avoids taking up space, and prioritizes the needs of others over her own.
While these characteristics are not necessarily bad and are honestly some qualities I appreciate about myself, the trap I fell into was believing I would be a huge disappointment if I deviated even slightly from these traits.
According to the renowned Swiss psychologist Carl Jung, every person has an unconscious "shadow" side that consists of the repressed, denied, or hidden aspects of their personality. This shadow often contains traits we have been taught to view as undesirable, such as anger, selfishness, or vulnerability. The qualities placed in the shadow vary from person to person. While some of these characteristics may need to be developed, they rarely need to be eliminated.
The key to understanding the “shadow self” is recognizing that these aspects are not defective; rather, they are traits we have learned to perceive as unfavorable.
Like the delicate ballerina spinning endlessly in the box, I mastered the art of poise in public. With a practiced smile, I projected a perfect façade to the world, even as I felt a storm brewing inside—a whirlwind of emotions threatening to spill over. The effort to maintain this performance grew increasingly exhausting, as I morphed into different versions of myself to meet the expectations of those around me.
To cope, I found comfort in escaping into my imagination, a place where I could be myself without holding back. In this safe space, my messy and creative mind that thrived on contradiction could explore freely, away from others. I hid this lively part of me in the shadows, fearing that showing it would ruin the polished image I had built.
I have replayed countless interactions and dialogues in my head, imagining what I truly wanted to say or how I wished I would have responded. Yet the catch remained: in this idealized world I had no consequences for breaking free from my scripted role, but I outwardly I still remained trapped, bound to maintain an unending performance, forever turning within the confines of the box.
And then it happened. It was as if the ballerina was ripped off of her stand. My facade crumbled. I realized that all my efforts to please others seemed ultimately pointless.
This left me questioning why I was trying so hard to be the "good girl" when it felt like I had disappointed everyone around me despite my best efforts.
So I began the challenging work of confronting my shadow side.
As Jung reminds us, "Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Those who look outside dream; those who look inside awaken." For a long time, I felt as though I had been sleepwalking through life, living within my dream world. And to be honest, this is still my go-to when I am feeling stressed or overwhelmed. But, it became increasingly clear that I needed to stop hiding in the comfort of my dark box and confront the parts of myself that felt shameful and frightening.
True living isn't about pretending to be perfect; it's about recognizing and embracing the full spectrum of our humanity.
The shadow often emerges through projection, where we attribute our denied qualities to others. We perceive these qualities as flaws in someone else rather than recognizing them within ourselves. For instance, I frequently feel annoyed when my husband displays what I view as excessive neediness. In reality, he is simply expressing basic human emotions. My irritation reflects my own shadow, rooted in the belief that a “good girl” shouldn't have or express needs. Watching him openly seek support reveals my internal struggle and frustration; I feel trapped by unspoken rules that discourage my own vulnerability while he freely embraces his. By learning to integrate the shadow, the parts I have banished, I can begin to gain control over it instead of being controlled by it.
I can stop projecting my fears and insecurities onto others and, in turn, develop greater self-awareness and emotional resilience.
Learning to embrace the neglected parts of myself has been a messy and imperfect journey. It involves developing underutilized skills and traits. I often feel clumsy as I learn to express my thoughts and take up space. With each step I take in sharing my story more openly, I find myself in an agonizing internal debate, wrestling with the delicate balance of what to reveal and how to present it. The fear of being a disappointment is so deeply ingrained. I know my new movements will be out of sync with the music, but perhaps that's where true beauty begins.
I am trying my best to believe that the world doesn't need me to be a perfect plastic figure; it needs my whole self—complex, imperfect, and beautifully human.
