Manifesting Is Less About Magic And More About Self-Love

In the age of algorithms and uncertainty, manifesting has emerged as a cultural phenomenon. Depending on who you ask, it’s either the secret to abundance or something that sounds deep but doesn’t really do anything. But beneath the glittery Instagram quotes and vision board aesthetics lies something more grounded, more human: manifesting isn’t about controlling the universe, it’s about calming our nervous systems. 

Let’s be real: “manifesting” gets clowned a lot online. People love to say it’s fake, delusional, or just an excuse to avoid doing the work. If you think staring at your vision board is gonna drop a million dollars into your bank account, maybe pump the brakes. But here’s the thing: for a lot of us, manifesting isn’t about magic. It’s about mental survival. It’s one of the few ways we’ve learned to calm our anxiety and show ourselves a little love in a world that’s constantly doing the most. 

At its core, manifesting is a quiet rebellion against anxiety. It’s a way of saying, “I trust things will work out, even if I don’t know how yet.” That belief can be deeply soothing in a world that constantly reminds us of what’s out of our control.

When people repeat affirmations, visualize their future, or script out their dream lives, they’re not casting spells, they’re regulating fear. They’re gently steering their minds away from worst-case scenarios and toward the possibility of peace. And that’s not delusional. That’s emotional self-defense.

For some, manifesting is journaling what they want like it already happened. For others, it’s repeating affirmations like, “I am enough” or “I attract peace.” Sounds cheesy, but when your inner voice has been talking trash for years, saying something kind even if you don’t fully believe it yet can be life-changing.

Manifesting is lowkey therapy. Visualizing a good future? That’s a known anxiety coping skill. Affirmations? So maybe you’re not “asking the universe” for anything. Maybe you’re just rewiring your brain to stop spiraling and start hoping again. That’s not cringe. That’s healing.

And honestly? That’s kind of beautiful.