FOMO's Great Deception

FOMO- the fear of missing out -has two faces.

One pushes you to live.

One drags you down despite your effort to live.

The first face you know from childhood.

Any kid’s worst nightmare is to be the black sheep, watching the fun from the sidelines, alone and neglected.

There is a pain in isolation worse than no other.

I know this because I was a social wreck growing up, enough that even today, I still repair the nasty relics of this past.

Sadness is expected, but it can quite literally become lethal if you spiral out of control.

We like to feel sorry for ourselves.

There’s a certain comfort in being the victim, the underdog, the one wronged by society. In this case, the lonely one.

Perhaps your mind is starved of sympathy from the world so it produces its own to make you feel better.

You can’t hug your reflection, but you can feel sorry for it, and that’s good enough.

But as good as self-pity feels, it still holds you captive.

In the worst case, your childhood flies by like the blur in a train window, or you live your years feeling like a ghostly spectator, or a background piece, no different from a potted plant or city pigeon.

This is where FOMO sticks its hand out to help.

We give it a bad name, but if it pushes you to get out the front door and make some memories, then it's welcome in my eyes.

This is especially true if the idea of a good night out is more than just getting blackout drunk in the club.

But FOMO is no friend either.

Half the time, it holds a dagger behind its back.

It fills you with the dread of inadequacy -that you aren’t doing enough, that you could be doing more regardless of the reality.

This lie is most obvious when you read a book.

Let's say you picked up Marcus Aurelius' Meditations, and have one quarter of the book left.

With every page you turn, you can't help but notice how much closer you creep towards the end.

It's right there . . .

I'll get to tick it off my list and buy a new one!

Your pace picks up.

Your notes get less dense (they just slow you down after all).

And all you can think about is updating your page progress on Goodreads.

Aurelius crossed the Danube and died -Finally! Time to move on.

I know there's a hundred libraries worth of books to read out there, and you want to get through them.

But if you aren't making the most of a masterpiece like Meditations, what makes you think the next book will be different?

How can you enjoy the first bite if you are already reaching for the second?

How can you enjoy the present if all you can think about is the excitement of tomorrow?

This is the ugly side to FOMO.

It pulls you away from the goodness of now and makes you forget how to cherish what you already have.

This infects your hobbies too.

You love all your interests, but like a platoon of children, they're a pain in the ass to juggle around in your busy life.

Time management has its limits too.

You can't play the piano while also reading a book.

Nor can you code videogames while hiking up a hill.

You can box while playing chess, but that's just about it when it comes to multitasking. . .

So naturally, FOMO kicks in. Often during an activity too.

"I could be doing this instead"

That's right.

You could.

But why should you punish yourself for choosing one outlet of creativity over another?

How is it fair to scold your tired mind and body for striving in one interest, while ‘neglecting’ the other?

Or- forgive me gurus -for having a rest?

Besides, that feeling won't magically disappear even if you switch activities.

There's always something else to do, but that doesn't mean it deserves your attention.

Let it come naturally, when you have the room to breathe again.

It should greet you like an old friend at the door . . . not the cousin who pretends to like you.

I play the violin every so often.

It's my most 'casual' interest and I have no plans on becoming a master -ever.

For that reason, I will gladly put it aside if I’d rather spend that practice session with a book instead, or working on a new piece of writing.

And yet, even as I write this now, the FOMO thoughts whisper at me.

Why aren’t you practising violin?

                                                                                                                      You never finished that illustration course -what gives?

                                          Why not start a whittling career? You may as well.

Shut up.

I’m using this time to write.

It’s something meaningful to me, so it’s not wasted.

I’d hear the same stupid thoughts if I did anything else, only they’d flow the other way around -”why aren’t you writing instead?”

Whatever amazing things you build, or cool skills you nurture, don’t let FOMO’s ugly face derail you from greatness.

Take care,

Odysseas