I Made a Vision Board in 2017 and Accidentally Became Her
I still make one every year. Here’s why I’ll never stop.
I found a half-finished story in my notes app from 2019.
It was about a vision board I made in the summer of 2017, a job that seemed to fall out of the sky, and a friend who compared me to Mary Tyler Moore, without knowing she was smack in the middle of that long-forgotten board. I thought it was kismet then, and now... it kind of freaks me out. Let me explain.
The tone of the note was breathless, a little chaotic, clearly written mid-manifestation high. I laughed rereading it. Not because it was silly, but because I still believe every word. I’ve been making vision boards for years. Not because I think they’ll magically hand me what I want, but because they help me figure out what that even is in the first place.
Why I Started
I started making vision boards when I was on my own for the first time. I didn’t have money, or magazines, so I used actual books 😳 yes, I’m aware this may have violated both publishing law and good sense. But I was broke and wanted beauty on my walls. That first board was… odd. It had this collage-y, prophetic energy that didn’t make much sense at the time but felt like a breadcrumb trail to the person I was trying to become.
There was no clear goal. Just an instinct to cut and paste something that looked more like the inside of my head than my life.
It was weird. Personal. A little chaotic. Honestly, it feels embarrassing to show you, but that’s kind of the point. This was me, trying to imagine something bigger for myself with a glue stick and torn-out pages from a book I couldn’t afford to keep pristine.
Here she is in all her glory:
What I’ve Learned from Gluing My Dreams to Paper (Again and Again)
I used to write out my goals every New Year’s Eve like a checklist: get the job, lose the weight, save the money, fix whatever version of me felt broken that year. It was part intention-setting, part punishment. If I didn’t hit the list, I assumed I’d failed.
But somewhere along the way, that shifted.
Now, every New Year’s Eve, I make a vision board. It’s not about resolutions or control. It’s a reset. A ritual. A way to check in with where I’m at and what I want more of, without needing to justify it. I still don’t use magazines, but vision board books. It’s deliberate, visual storytelling. A version of me I’m calling forward.
What I’ve learned is this: I don’t need to know exactly what I’m asking for. Vision boards aren’t about outcomes. They’re about orientation. They help me name what I crave, structure, softness, autonomy, beauty, even when I don’t have the words yet.
The ones I’ve made in the past are wild to look back on. Some of them feel like altars. Some feel like warning signs. Some make me cringe in that way that only happens when you’ve actually grown. They all tell the truth.
And the magic isn’t just in what comes true. It’s in the choosing. In the willingness to dream without needing proof.
The Mary Tyler Moore Moment
That first board I ever made (yep, the one above) had a photo of Mary Tyler Moore throwing her hat in the air. I didn’t think much of it at the time, I barely knew who she was. I just thought the photo felt brave, joyful. She looked like a woman fully in her life.
I completely forgot she was there.
Years later, in 2019, I was starting a new downtown job, it felt like a big, grown-up step up—and a friend made a joke that I was giving Mary Tyler Moore energy. I smiled and nodded like I understood, then immediately googled it. It looked vaguely familiar. And it was weirdly accurate. The next day, I noticed the vision board again… and there she was. Right in the middle.
I remember thinking, okay, that’s weird.
But now? In this version of my life? I travel to Minneapolis all the time for work. Which is bizarre, considering I don’t live anywhere near it. Minneapolis is where The Mary Tyler Moore Show was filmed. There’s literally a statue of her throwing her hat in the air downtown. I didn’t plan that. I didn’t manifest it on purpose. But I did choose her. I chose that energy.
And slowly without realizing it, I became her.
Why I’ll Keep Doing This
Because it works. Not always in the way I expect, and never on my timeline, but something always moves. Something always reveals itself. Vision boards have become how I track my life, not by what I achieve, but by who I’m becoming.
They remind me that I don’t need to have a perfect plan. I just need to stay in conversation with my desire. I need to notice what I’m drawn to. I need to sit with the feelings I want to feel more often. That’s the real work. The rest will meet me when it’s time.
So yes, I’ll keep cutting out pictures and gluing them to paper like a teenager with a crush on the future. I’ll keep cutting up old selves and arranging them into new ones. I’ll keep throwing little spells together, one year at a time.
And this year? I’m absolutely tossing my hat in the air.
It may have taken me eight years, but I made it.