Depression, Spiritual Transformation and the Alchemy of Nigredo

May 14
5 min read

Woman reflecting on depression, shadow work, Nigredo and spiritual transformation.

Someone I met in Bali introduced me to an alchemical concept called Nigredo. “The blackening.” The stage where everything dissolves before transformation can begin. And the moment he described it, something in me finally made sense.

What if the parts of ourselves we are trying hardest to fix are actually the parts carrying us through transformation?

This experience completely changed the way I view depression and spiritual transformation.

When I wrote The Depths, I thought I understood what was happening to me. But now I don’t think I fully did.

For a long time, I’ve told myself the story that I struggle with depression, and that those moments are proof that something in me is broken.

It feels like this sudden, uncontrollable switch. One moment I’m okay, and the next I’m not.

And as I described in The Depths, for me it feels like being pulled down into a deep ocean, sinking further and further into something unbearably painful. But then something strange happens. Eventually, it almost starts to feel safe there. Euphoric even. Like the darkness has swallowed me whole and become somewhere softer to rest than the world above.

And then the light becomes the scary place.

Because to come back up means pushing through that painful threshold again, knowing that one day I may be dragged back down once more. In those moments, the pain feels too heavy to survive another time.

I’ve experienced this for as long as I can remember.

So I came to Bali carrying this belief that this was something I needed to fix. Something caused by trauma. Almost like a relapse in my spiritual journey.

Because with all the growth I’ve experienced, all the beautiful things I’m creating, all the healing work I do, I still find myself falling into these depths. Into moments where life can feel unbearable and I question how I keep carrying it all.

And every time it happens, there’s a voice inside me that says:

See? You’re not healing.

You’re going backwards.

You’re failing.

You’ll always be this way.

And in those moments I believe it.

But today I learned something that shifted everything for me.

Maybe the moments where I disappear into those depths aren’t something to be fixed at all.

Maybe they’re something necessary.

Maybe those moments are a kind of recalibration.

Maybe they are the moments where I go so deeply into myself, into my shadow, into the parts of me that are exhausted, that I finally allow myself to truly rest and just be.

And I think somewhere deep down I already knew this, because traces of it exist in The Depths. But there’s always been shame wrapped around it.

Not because I can’t speak about it. In many ways, sharing is how I survive shame. Vulnerability stops me from spiralling deeper into it.

But still, there’s this fear of being seen so raw.

Especially as someone who teaches, holds space, and speaks about healing. Part of me worried that if people saw how deep my pain can go, they would think I’m less spiritual, less capable, less worthy of guiding others.

And then someone here spoke to me about Nigredo.

The blackening.

The stage where everything dissolves into darkness before transformation can happen.

And when he described it, I immediately imagined this thick black tar. Everything collapsing into nothingness. Into pure darkness.

But then I realised something.

Seeds are planted in darkness too.

They have to begin there before they can rise towards the light.

Alchemy is the process of transforming one thing into another.

Turning pain into wisdom.

Suffering into meaning.

Darkness into growth.

Heaviness into gold.

And maybe that’s what these moments are.

Not punishments.

Not failures.

But part of the alchemising.

Part of the transformation.

Maybe healing was never about becoming someone who never falls into darkness again.

Maybe healing is learning that you know how to return to the light.

And maybe some of us aren’t meant to avoid the depths entirely.

Maybe some of us are meant to dance between both worlds.

Like how they say there were once people who stayed awake through the night to watch over the camp while everyone else slept. And others who woke with the sun to gather food and care for the day.

Maybe some people are here to guide others through the light.

But maybe some of us are also meant to keep journeying into the dark to hold others that are there.

Especially those of us who are deeply sensitive.

Because when you open yourself fully, through this work, through the body, the nervous system, the heart, energy, emotion, connection, you become incredibly porous to the world around you.

And sometimes the heaviness of other people and the world we live in clings to us.

Returning to those darker spaces teaches us not to fear them and how to sit beside people in their pain without becoming consumed by it ourselves.

Like the lotus flower growing from murky water.

The water touches it, but it does not become it.

Maybe some of us need to keep journeying into those places so that when we meet others there, we recognise them more easily.

We can sit beside them.

Hold them there.

Understand them there.

And then return to the light again.

And honestly, there’s something so empowering about realising that maybe this was never something broken inside me.

Maybe these moments carry gifts too.

Because just because something is painful, and just because something feels unbearable, doesn’t mean it serves no purpose.

Some of the most transformative things we experience feel deeply uncomfortable while we’re inside them.

And maybe there are so many things we spend our lives trying to fix that are actually part of what makes us who we are.

Maybe the darker parts of us are also what make the brighter parts shine more brightly.

That duality has always existed.

I’ve never been someone who feared the darkness.

In many ways, I’ve always found comfort there.

But I’ve never seen it quite like this before.

And now that I do, I feel an overwhelming sense of clarity.

Like something inside me has finally softened.

And I know the darkness will pull me down again and I will be lost in The Deaths but next time I won't attach to the experience being good or bad... it will just be and so will I.