Let me start by saying I was never that person. You know the one—saging their apartment, journaling at dawn, whispering affirmations to a mason jar full of moon water. I used to side-eye the word “manifestation” so hard I thought I’d strain something. It all felt like a Pinterest board that got out of hand.

So how did I end up here, with a life that—on most days—actually feels kinda good? Balanced-ish. Purpose-adjacent. Weirdly aligned. And yeah, better.

Short answer? I didn’t mean to. But some stuff clicked. Slowly. Accidentally. Like cleaning out your junk drawer and somehow discovering a check you forgot to cash.

Here’s what happened.

I started paying attention to what didn’t suck.

Noticing. That’s where it started. I didn’t call it gratitude or mindfulness or anything fancy. I just started clocking the good stuff, mostly out of desperation. A warm coffee. A quiet morning. A conversation that didn’t drain me.

Turns out, when you’re on high alert for things not to hate, you start finding more of them. Like your brain goes, "Oh, you like that? Here’s more of it."

Spooky.

I gave up on “the plan.”

I used to white-knuckle my goals like I was trying to wrestle the future into submission. Vision boards, five-year plans, motivational podcasts blaring in the background while I spiraled.

Eventually, I burned out. I stopped trying to control the whole plot. I just asked myself a very lazy question: What feels a little better than this?

Then I followed that. Not always gracefully. Sometimes I fell face-first into it. But that tiny question made a massive difference.

I stopped hanging out with people who made me feel like crap.

This one hurts a little. Because some of those people were lovely in theory. But every time I left them, I felt smaller, edgier, weirder. Like I had to do a full personality reset to recover.

So I started saying no. Kindly, but firmly. And I didn’t replace them with anyone right away. I just let the quiet in.

Weird thing: Once I made space, new people showed up. Ones who didn’t drain me. People who laughed at the same dumb things. Who didn’t require emotional footnotes.

I said yes to weird stuff.

Some of the best parts of my current life came from saying yes to things I almost bailed on. A random yoga class. A job I thought I wasn’t qualified for. A text I almost didn’t send.

None of them felt like huge deals in the moment. But they cracked open new paths. Tiny hinges that swung big doors.

So now, when I get that nudge—that little tug to try something that feels like a stretch—I take it more seriously. Even if I'm still sweating through my shirt.

I acted like I already had the thing I wanted.

This part wasn’t on purpose. But I noticed that I started walking a little taller, dressing a little better, talking a bit more confidently—before anything had actually changed.

And guess what? People responded to it. Opportunities showed up. I got treated like I belonged in rooms I used to tiptoe into.

There’s something about carrying yourself like the future-you already arrived. Not in a fake-it-till-you-make-it way. Just… showing up like you’re worth the good stuff.

Turns out, you are.

I got real cozy with failure.

Not in a motivational quote kind of way. I mean actual, awkward, gut-wrenching flops. The kind that make you want to delete your whole internet presence.

But after each one, something shifted. I cared a little less about being perfect. I laughed sooner. I moved on faster.

And somehow, that looseness—being a little less afraid of looking stupid—made room for more stuff to go right.

So… did I manifest this life?

I don’t know. Maybe. Probably not in the way the influencers mean. I didn’t chant or visualize or throw crystals into the ocean during an eclipse.

But I did start living like things could be better. I stopped trying to control every outcome. I acted like someone who believed good things were allowed to happen.

And that changed everything.

So no, I didn’t manifest a yacht or a surprise inheritance or a six-pack. But I did wake up one day and realize: life feels lighter. Quieter. Better.

And honestly? That’s more than enough.