Chapter 1
Jordan
In the corner of my laptop screen, my green eyes appear bright as I strain to maintain the megawatt smile for my followers, painfully aware of the camera recording my every gesture.
I spent an hour twisting my wavy brown hair into a meticulously messy bun. My colorful thrifted tie-dyed maxi dress evokes a positive mood.
If you want to succeed as a well-being influencer, you must stay perpetually perky. You can only show the plus side of things and never let the masses see your pain.
Or worse, your doubts.
To manifest abundance, you need to fake it ’til you make it. Dress for the job you want instead of the one you have.
I’ve always wanted to earn a living helping people. To that end, I recently quit my part-time job to focus solely on creating online content. Where did that land me? Here, sitting on the floor in front of my laptop, pretending I’m on a yoga mat I can’t afford instead of this threadbare rug. Using the built-in camera on my outdated phone and a secondhand ring light to stream mySunday Prep for the Weeklive show.
The cyclops eye of the ring light scorches the world pale and makes my skin glow. I’m not sure if the light flatters me or if thesoft illumination exposes all the flaws and doubts I’d prefer to hide, but either way, I continue beaming like an absolute dork, holding the pose for forty-five minutes until my face goes numb.
Manifest. Receive. Transform.
Six hundred and twenty-nine viewers tune in to hear me talk about abundance while I sit in near darkness because I can’t afford to run my lights.
The irony is so sharp and tangy that it feels like gargling fresh lemon juice. I sit up straighter, clutching to the veneer of confidence I’ve perfected over the years. “Remember, beautiful souls, the universe doesn’t listen to your words. It listens to yourbeing. If we only needed words, we’d all be witches.”
The comments crawl across the screen, one by one, then nothing. Dead air stretches. I start typing, segueing to the next conversation topic. Filling the silence so no one will notice how empty the chat room really is. I don’t let my smile falter.
I have way too much practice at this.
“Your energetic space must be cleared to receive.” My arms, toned from years of yoga, sweep out, my fingers plucking imaginary cobwebs from my body. “Blockages in your aura create resistance to the abundance waiting to flow into your life.” I keep my movements fluid and deliberate. I’ve performed them so many times that they belong to me now.
The number in the corner of the screen doesn’t budge. I have no more viewers than I did last week.
Three years of running this channel, more than ten years of research and living the life, taking the plunge, and trusting that the universe would supply, and I’ve only gained six hundred and twenty-nine followers.
A tight, sharp ball of anxiety scrapes at my lungs.
If my channel fails, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ve got no degree, no backup plans.
I need this. This channel. My podcast. I don’t want to return to the street.
I just don’t understand what I’m doingwrong.
My smile falters for a split second before I reel myself back in.
No. Attract abundance. I am abundance.
Deep inhale. Deep exhale.
Reset.
I inject helium into my voice. “It’s about being open to what the universe wants to send you. Opening your heart and your energy field to receive the gifts already waiting for you.”
Silence. A second later, a comment splashes across the screen.
My cat just threw up on my vision board. What does that mean??
Tiny muscles jump in my cheek. I widen my smile.
Of course.
