I Got a 'Money Manifestation Coach' to Sort Out My Life

I followed their advice for seven entire days to see if I could "attract abundance" to my bank balance.
The writer despairing in her living room, photo by Eabha Fitzpatrick.
The writer despairing in her living room. Photo: Eabha Fitzpatrick

When I think of “manifestation”, my mind goes straight to crystals, spells and horoscopes. I’ve always viewed it in the “new age spirituality” genre, separate from our stone-cold reality entirely dictated by finances.

More recently though, manifestation has become a go-to practise among the capitalist-bourgeois babes who rule social media. Without mentioning that “24 hours in a day” comment, girlbosses everywhere are claiming it’s possible to manifest money into your life simply by believing you can


Now, as suspicious as I am about combining money and manifestation, my bank account is looking very unhealthy right now. I don’t think minimum-wage waitressing or even the next student loan drop is going to remedy this rapidly. In short, I’ll try anything. Yes… even this.

“Hello gorgeous Izzy, are you ready to attract abundance into your life?” Amanda May asks me. May is a “money manifestation coach” and promises her clients the chance to fix their monetary issues with routine, rituals and the law of attraction

Unlike many of the other money manifestation coaches taking over Instagram right now, May does have a financial background. “I couldn’t talk about a spiritual money mindset as a licensed advisor – so I left to become a coach,” she says.

I liked her. Perhaps it’s because I’m a slut for compliments, but she also made me believe that I could do it… even if I knew that was utterly illogical. However, according to Amanda, believing is the first step. 

Our aim was to use manifestation techniques for seven days to “attract abundance.” May planned to meet me regularly over Zoom and provide emotional support and spiritual guidance, daily, through Instagram voice memos. Here’s how it went. 


Day one: ‘Pour a glass of wine, light a candle and brood over all the times money has caused you discomfort’

This was May’s first piece of advice. Unfortunately, there wasn't any wine in the house. Ireland’s new minimum pricing law means that you can’t even buy the most piss-and-vinegar-like bottle for less than €7.40. Vodka and flat Sprite had to suffice – mixed in a wine glass, of course. I couldn't ruin this week’s girlboss aesthetic by drinking from a tea-stained Belieber mug on day one. 

“You’re probably going to cry,” May whispered softly over Zoom a couple of hours before I began.   

After about an hour of sipping (then grimacing), I managed to fill up a journaling page with my money woes. I didn’t cry, but a knot did slowly appear in my stomach. Mulling over the times in which I’d been stupid with money made me feel the guilt all over again. 

I sent May a voice note with my monetary shame and she was delighted. “Now this is pretty juicy stuff. You probably feel dehydrated,” she replied. 

I did feel dehydrated. May claimed it was from the “large, spiritual transfer of negative energy”, but I think the vodka played a part. No money magically appeared in my current account that evening, but Amanda assured me that “the fun is still to come”. 

Day two: ‘Repeat money manifestations while jumping’

Today is rent day – a sad day for everyone in my student house. After transferring an unearthly sum of money for a slightly mouldy room, my bank account was looking particularly sad.

Unable to muster up any respect for a universe which maintains that Dublin landlords are worthy of all the abundance in the world, it wasn’t the best start to my spiritual journey. But hey, maybe they’re just doing their manifestations correctly? And I didn’t have much to lose.


May told me to “move, jump around and hug myself” while saying manifestations to activate “happy energy”. I couldn’t see how wrapping my bony limbs around my body might spark joy so I opted for the slightly less humiliating “jumping”. Manifestations included “I am attracting more money into my life every day” and “I am worthy of all the abundance in the world”.

Nothing happened. But it’s all about consistency, right? I repeated the manifestations three times in the morning, six times at lunch and nine times before going to bed – something Amanda calls the “three-six-nine method”.

Before setting my alarm for the next day, a WhatsApp popped up on my phone: “Heyyy, just transferred you the money me and Olivia owe you for that taxi last week, sorry it’s so late xxx”.


Day three: ‘Visualise what money can do for you’

Maybe it was desperation post-rent day, or maybe it was getting paid back for a taxi (which everyone knows literally never happens), but by day three I was ready to do anything May told me to.

“What will you do when all this money hits your bank account?” she asked via voice note.

I had my ideas. Apart from turning on the heating for long enough to not see my breath inside, I was thinking: holidays, meals out and trading my fake tan-stained “white” trainers for some which don’t look like a biological hazard. 

I set a timer on my phone for 30 mins and imagined a future in which I actually buy Issey Miyake perfume instead of drenching myself in samples whenever I pass a shop. Then the timer went off. My online banking still looked unhealthy. 


Day four: ‘Look at money and voice your gratitude. Also, keep an “evidence log”’

I’m all for gratitude. But as I opened my wallet and counted out a dismal looking €3.24, thanked it for being there and praised the universe for giving it to me, I did wonder what Mark Fisher would say about late capitalism if he could see me worshipping this loose change as if it were a god. Somehow, I know his analysis would be deeply depressing.

The “evidence log” – as May called it – felt less bleak. It basically acted as a gratitude journal. Earlier that day, I got a pretty decent deal on a second hand camera – around €350 less than it should have been. My photographer friend said that the guy in the shop must have got his coffee spiked with LSD that morning, but Amanda and I knew it was the universe rewarding me for all my desperate pleading. 

Also included in the evidence log: finding my missing makeup brush, getting away with not buying a tram ticket TWICE in one day and Yakult being half price in Lidl. Eat your heart out, Molly-Mae.

Day five: ‘Make a Pinterest board about money’

On the fifth day, Amanda told me to make a Pinterest board about money. I haven’t used Pinterest since 2013 – meaning that before doing anything, I had to delete decade-old boards which I personally curated titled “BoHo Chic Vibes”, “Harry Potter Jokes” and “Halloween Cake Ideas”.

May claimed this activity would emphasise my gratitude for money, establish my focus and call in more abundance. Despite my initial reluctance, I actually got quite into it. I fully recommend pinning vintage Ralph Lauren adverts, clothes and holidays as if you’re the heir to a small diamond fortune for a relaxing, albeit delusional, escape from reality. 


Sadly, however, this was a sombre day of no surprise funds. 

Day six: ‘Go on a treasure hunt’

“Visualise yourself finding coins, bills, etc. and pick up everything you find,” May told me on the sixth day. “When you find money, CELEBRATE it. Say 'Thank you universe!' Jump up and down. Google images of money, fixate on those images.”

May’s instructions may have seemed a little unhinged, but they were clear. I started by searching the hungover pit of going-out clothes and dirty makeup wipes which I am ashamed to call my bedroom. After concluding that A) I am a disgusting slob and B) that I should probably apologise for the verbal onslaught I launched at my sister for stealing my favourite jeans which were, in fact, under my bed, I found €15.45 in total. Not bad. I jumped up and down self-consciously. 

Googling images of money in the library did prompt a few concerned looks, but I didn’t care. I knew something they didn’t, and it had earned me enough to afford a flat white WITH COCONUT MILK that morning (paid for with a jangling little bag of small change). Alexa, play “Money” by Cardi B.

Day seven: ‘Rest, relaxation and comfort’

May sent me some YouTube guided meditations for the final day – probably the only thing this week which felt like traditional mindfulness and spirituality. “I want you to get into a peaceful, zen-like state with some deep meditation,” she said. 

After a week of focussing intently on money, May insisted that this step was essential to the process, providing space to breathe and really cherish this week’s wins. And while listening to gentle chanting and gongs out my laptop speakers, I realised I've attracted quite a lot this week:


– €20.54 back from a taxi I payed for.
– A cheap new camera.
– A lost makeup brush.
- Two free trips on Dublin’s Luas.
– Half price Yakults.
- €15.45 and a clean room.
– My favourite jeans and a new sense of personal shame.

Haters will say this would have happened anyway, but maybe I’m actually a fem-powerment boss babe money manifester now?? Maybe the reason I've been so broke is because I haven't been doing enough treasure hunts? 

That said, no magic money fairy paid my rent or sprinkled thousands of extra euros into my bank account. Plus, I really started to notice all the ways that money plays a role in every single aspect of life, which was frankly depressing. Manifesting isn't something I'm going to be doing every day. 

The gratitude was nice, though. And who knows what lengths I will go to next month, when my landlord empties my bank account once again. 

@izzy_copestake / @eabhafitzy