The more “wrong” you think you are, the more “wrongness” you’ll manifest into your life.
It was 2013, at Dubai Airport, on my way to Vietnam. I’ll never forget how I felt during that conversation.
I had to spend the night there and went to McDonald’s after using a voucher from the airline to buy myself a small gift. I think I had agreed to a compromise—probably flying later—because I knew I had all night ahead of me. I remember looking around at people and feeling like a stranger, almost like I was watching myself from the outside. Chanel cosmetics—nice. (I collect notebooks, pens, and nail polish by the way… and books.)
Anyway.
I ordered my food and sat down in the middle of the night, feeling completely lost and scared. I’m not a cool backpacker. I’m a scared little control freak when I travel, no matter how many times I’ve done it.
Then a kind man asked if he could sit at my table. He was polite and charming. He told me he worked in Qatar. Then, somehow, the topic turned to religion.
He was religious and believed that God was an undeniable truth. I said I wasn’t sure. I told him I wished I had that kind of certainty in my life—and I meant it. It wasn’t a sarcastic “oh, I wish I was that naive” kind of thing. It was a sincere desire for that kind of faith, and honestly, not to feel so alone in the universe.
That changed everything.
The conversation shifted. He started to get angry with me. Maybe he thought I was looking down on him. I don’t remember how we ended it, but I do remember exactly how I felt afterward: ashamed and guilty.
That night, my legs started to swell. They went back to normal a few days later—sure, long flight, heat, whatever. But I know it was the shame in my body that activated that reaction. I’m certain of it.
And it wasn’t the only shameful moment on that trip. There was the time I was yelled at in a bus because I was too exhausted to give up my seat. A tall guy who arrived later wanted it, and others started shaming me for not moving. I was sick, with a fever, and couldn’t even explain why I couldn’t stand.
Then there was the time I accidentally threw toilet paper into the toilet instead of the bin, and got scolded for it. Or when I was asked to leave my table at a café, not because it was full, but because someone wanted to sit exactly there—even though other tables were empty.
There was a guy at breakfast who made a comment about how much food I was picking up. “Are you really going to eat all that?” And at a massage place, the woman asked my height and weight and said, “Look at me, I’m taller than you and I weigh less.”
There was a lot of that.
One woman did say something kind: “Nice skin, nice body.” That stayed with me too.
So what’s the point of all this?
At the time, I had an open wound in my aura. Shame slipped in from everywhere. I thought I was arrogant for thinking too much. I thought I had “turned my back” on something that was supposed to be a part of me. I thought I was wrong—physically, mentally, emotionally. Just… wrong.
That’s a frequency people pick up on.
As long as you think you’re “wrong” for having a million questions in your head, or believe you should think like a bonsai tree in a Zen garden, because the spiritual world demonizes overthinking, you’ll keep experiencing these shame hits.
I’m not saying mental spirals are the goal, but thinking a lot isn’t a flaw. It just needs direction.
Find things that satisfy your mind. Build structures that soothe it. Play with ideas that energize you. Don’t blame yourself for being the way you are.
And if you also love magic the way I do, I think you’ll love The Manifestation Gap.
You can get it here.
Until next time,
M
PS: If you want to
• name what you feel but can’t quite articulate
• reconnect to intuitive intelligence without bypassing the mind
• shift out of subtle freeze into aliveness
• think clearly without collapsing into overthinking
• access desire without pressure
• Create (manifest) from a grounded and sovereign identity, rather than from fear.
You can explore what I’m currently offering HERE.