Master's of Our Own Reality

 After finding about manifestations four years ago and confusing it with wishing for three of them, I finally experienced the magic and power in manifesting. 

In the past, I thought manifesting was writing down your wishes and wants and desires on a piece of paper, placing a crystal on it for a few hours, then burning it, throwing the ashes into the wind, and expecting immediate results.

Now, through the art of manifesting I have gotten a new life, a beautiful home, a beautiful family, an awesome job, love, adventure, growth, wisdom, patience, stability. The life I have now is my favorite one yet. 

During all the stresses of finding a place to live, potential homelessness (only in technical terms), no job and no bond money, I remained cool, calm, and collected. My dear friend of 11 years, and now housemate, was quite the contrary. 

"How are you so calm?" she shrieked when we had a week before we had to get out of that house. 
"Dude, trust me," I said. "I promise everything will work out, just maybe not in the way you expected."

Spoiler alert: everything worked out. And not once did my positive attitude and gratitude falter. And aside from the perpetual lock down, my life has been bliss, albeit not without its challenges, and I have everything that I want. So perhaps then it was only fair for me to encounter a significantly tough run of bad luck, commencing approximately 3 weeks ago (good for the plot, I guess?).

So as it goes, my positive demeanor has likely contributed to my negligence. On the way to Victoria, I got myself a speeding fine, which up until yesterday, remained unpaid. In Perth, I got myself two parking fines, not long before I left, which too, remained unpaid up until yesterday. THEN, for my friend of 10 years' birthday, I decided to surprise her in the morning with a cake and coffee and birthday card, but when I stepped back outside of the patisserie, my car was gone. 

"It got towed!" a lady waiting for the tram told me. 

I sighed, holding back tears as I ordered an Uber to get to my friends house - not letting a major inconvenience stop me from bringing light to her birthday in lockdown. And then on my way home I cried in a different Uber when I found out how much the release was going to be, while secretly giving myself a pat on the back for being such a good friend. 

The towing, most particularly the fine, hit me hard. I felt wronged. I felt angry. I felt a little bit sad. But still, everything will be okay, I manifested, keeping positive and my spirits high. Everything will work out.

And then I got ANOTHER fine. 

I didn't keep myself nearly quite composed this time. I sobbed dramatically in the back yard, listening to a particular song on repeat as I stared numbly at the fence. I felt very wronged. I felt very angry. I felt very sad. And I felt very sorry for myself. Everything will be okay,  I manifested, struggling to keep positive and my spirits up at all. 

And then my laptop broke. 

"I don't know how you didn't cry," my housemate said.
I shrugged and said, "Bad things come in three," whilst holding back the urge to cry until no one was around. 

And I thought, I'm hexed, and then I'm sent spiraling into this fantasy world where someone could possible hate me enough and be an expert in voodoo or magic, to hex me. And then after an hour, when I've gone through a list of everyone I know and daydreamed about how unfortunate and innocent I was in all of this, a mere victim, that I realised the absurdity and narcissism of thought. 

The following morning I woke exhausted and without any motivation to move. I didn't go for my usual run or walk, nor do my usual yoga. I snoozed my alarm a few times before the screen went black, albeit for the white apple icon, and was unresponsive. 

"Of course," I cried, "of course, this would happen." 

I thought the phone was a goner for sure when after forty minutes, it returned to life. And I didn't feel the relief that I was sure I would feel. I felt numb. And it was in that moment that I realised how attached I was to the narrative I had been writing about myself; that I had a victim complex. 

This realisation came with so much relief. It was as if I am greeted with a golden sign that says, "Mission Complete", and finally, I understand. 

The 'poor me' mindset was a primary one of mine for a significant portion of my life. But up until about a year ago, I thought I had done well to recognize it and let it go. 
I'm embarrassed at how long it took me to be aware of this toxic perspective, but at the same time, am very proud that it took only a few weeks instead of a few years. 

But of course bad things were happening to me, because despite my 'manifestations', the feeling and frequency I was sitting in the most was one of a victim. 

I took control that day. I admitted and accepted the fact that everything that happened was my responsibility. Shit happens, expensive technological devices break, unexpected detours incur. That doesn't mean the world or universe owes me shit. 

So, after many months of neglect and ignorance, I have paid off all my fines. I have set up a budget plan that was a little difficult to swallow, but mostly I feel amazing; free from the shackles of my own perception and discernment. I can handle anything. 

I'm the master of my own universe. 

And if I have the mindset of a damsel in distress, that's all I'll ever be.

But that's not me, anymore.