I feel like such a fraud. I need this motivational seminar, so I’m not scared about every single step toward moving to Hawaii. The day arrives, and I dress in a black sweater, distressed leggings, and bejeweled pearl and diamond black Steve Madden army boots.

I’m tired and don’t feel like going, but I know this seminar will give me the boost I need to get my life in order. I am not too familiar with the neighborhood, River West. Therefore, I'm not sure about the parking situation. Because parking is either nonexistent or costs a fortune in most neighborhoods, I take an Uber. The Uber pulls up in front of a residential condo building on a sketchy, poorly lit street. The driver sounds as unsure as I am. “Is this it?”

I look at the address. “Uhhhh, yeah, I guess.” I get out of the car, wishing I had brought my pepper spray. I attempt to open the front door of the building, and it is locked. It’s too cold for this shit. Luckily, there is a door person there to buzz me in. She greets me as I walk through the door. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I’m here for the seminar?”

This can’t be the right place.

“Oh, yes! Sign in here.”

Okay, maybe it is?

She hands me the guestbook, and I sign in. She instructs me to go to the twelfth floor. I get in the elevator, and the twelfth floor is the top floor. The elevator doors open, revealing the entertainment area of the building. To my right is a modern-looking living room area with couches, a big-screen TV, and a fireplace. And to my left is an equally modern kitchen area with stainless steel appliances and an island with chairs lined up facing the countertop and appliances. The space is designed with many windows, including a skylight, to receive natural lighting, but it’s 6 p.m. in the winter, so the natural light is pitch black. There is LED lighting, but the whole ambiance seems artificial because it's fighting mother nature's darkness.

The seminar is set up so that the presenter will be standing in the kitchen with the attendees at the barstools on the island. Right now, there are only four people seated at the island and an elderly couple seated behind the island, in the living room area. The elderly man is in a wheelchair and is sleeping, but looks dead, considering his pale pallor. I cannot see his chest move when he breathes. However, there is fresh drool oozing out the side of his mouth, so that is a positive sign of life. The elderly woman with him doesn’t seem to be alarmed, so I think it’s safe to say that he is alive. As I quickly assess the scene with massive confusion, a woman standing in the kitchen, who seems to be part of the seminar, makes a beeline to me. “Hi! What’s your name?”

“Hi, I’m Angie.”

“Hi, Angie! I’m Sheila. What brings you to the event?

What? Why is she interrogating me before I’ve had a chance to take off my coat?

“I’m making some changes in my life and need some motivation to implement them.”

“Great! What kind of changes?”

Why is she putting me on the spot right now?

“I think I want to start a writing project, but I don’t know if I have the courage to do it.”

I also want to move to Hawaii, but I'm way too embarrassed to admit that to you right now.

“Awesome! How did you hear about the event?

Why are we doing this? Shouldn’t this be part of group introductions?

“Um, I don’t know. Google?”

There is an awkward pause. It’s roasting in here with the fireplace blazing, and this conversation feels too forced. I am so socially and physically uncomfortable that I can’t stand it. Before the sweat starts soaking through my clothes, I need to take off my eight hundred and fifty-fill goose-down, ankle-length coat.

“Let me take your coat.”

Finally!

Sheila hangs up my coat and finally accepts me into the kitchen island audience. There are two young ladies at the far end, who seem to be about my age, two ladies in the middle, who seem to be my mother’s age, and then me. Oh, and of course, the two elderly people sitting behind us. And there is a really good-looking, muscular guy in the kitchen, who seems to be one of the speakers. And that’s it. This is the motivational seminar. Five attendees, two mystery, elderly attendees, and two speakers. And everyone else is in pairs, so I feel like a third wheel for all four pairs. I would love to get the hell out of here right now, but with such a small crowd, I would feel awkward getting up and leaving. It might offend Sheila.

The seminar begins. Sheila and Shane, the good-looking, fit guy, introduce themselves, and then we start going around the room to make introductions. There are hors d'oeuvres on the island, and the two ladies sitting next to me crunch away the entire time, which is audibly offensive. The two young ladies on the end start speaking. There is Lori, a spinning and yoga instructor, and her friend Jenny, an esthetician. Lori is cute with short, curly, brown hair and bright pink lipstick, and Jenny is blonde with a much more Plain Jane look. Lori tells us that she is going to a motivational seminar in Denver in May with Tony Robbins and Gary Vee. I don’t want to interrupt her, but I can’t help myself. “Wait, Tony Robbins and Gary Vee are going to be at the same event?”

“Yeah!” She gives me the details. After Jenny introduces herself, we move down to the two ladies sitting beside me, still stuffing their faces with crunchy food. It turns out these guests are Sheila’s mom and her friend.

Are you kidding me? She couldn’t fill enough seats and had to get pity attendees?

Even worse, the elderly couple behind us are Sheila’s grandparents. This means that there are only three real attendees, including myself.

What did I get myself into?

Then, they get to me. With outward confidence and inward shame, I explain that I am trying to get over my fears and figure out what I want to do with my life. The huge entertainment room is quiet, except for the fireplace's crackling and me talking about how I want to be a writer, but I don’t know how to start. I don’t feel comfortable talking in front of people, even in this small of a crowd.

Can we please just start the event so I can get motivated already?

Finally, Shane starts the presentation. He talks about non-GMO and organic food, the evils of Monsanto, how he drives two hours to the suburbs to get specially filtered water and range-free eggs, and doesn’t have cable because he doesn’t want radio waves emitted in his house. He also mentions, at least eight times, that he won a contest to get personally coached by a no-name motivational speaker. His attractiveness starts dwindling as he weaves in and out of the painfully boring details of the great lengths he goes to stay in an uncontaminated bubble. The last spark is extinguished when he says he meditates for a minimum of two hours a day.

How does he have this much time on his hands?

My interest slightly piques when Shane starts talking about probiotics, which I have recently started taking. I mention that I buy mine at Target, and he supplement-shames me by basically saying that a store for peasants such as Target couldn’t possibly have the best quality strains of probiotics, and he recommends a brand that costs about the same as my monthly mortgage principal payment.

Needless to say, I am extremely confused about how any of this correlates with facing our fears (allegedly, if you don’t expose your body to poison, you won’t feel anxious and fearful). I am annoyed that they wasted my money and free time. The seminar lasts thirty minutes over the scheduled two hours, and it is the most painful two hours and thirty minutes of my life. All I want to do is leave, but Sheila has my coat hostage. I am not brave enough to get up and leave by getting my own damn coat to make a statement of “Screw you, this seminar sucks!” which is ironic at a ‘Fear Not!’ seminar, although Sheila’s grandparents had the balls to leave an hour ago.

I escape after the seminar finally ends. Not so fast. Sheila accosts me after I put on my coat. “Hi, Angie! I am wondering if you have the availability to have lunch this coming week to talk about my coaching programs?”

I don’t know how to say, "Hell to the motherfucking no!” po-litely. “Maybe! Send me an email!”

But there is one good thing that came out of this event. The visions of the Denver Lollapalooza of motivational speakers have me so excited that, in the morning-after hangover from the organic food rant, I book a trip to Denver and buy my seminar ticket. The lowest-tier ticket is fifty dollars. The mid-tier ticket is five hundred dollars and includes a Q&A lunch with Gary Vee and close-to-the-front floor seating. The top-tier ticket is an opportunity to meet Tony Robbins and first or second-row floor seating. This is a hefty one thousand five hundred dollars.

I don't deserve to meet Tony Robbins.

I don't even deserve to be at that event.

I am not worthy of spending that much money on myself.

Despite the barrage of my critical inner voice, I click on the lunch with Gary Vee option, which is terrifying and not something I feel deserving of. But I am determined to make changes in my life.

From now on, I’m playing at a higher level.