In 2016, FOMO was added to the dictionary, and since then its use has been on the rise. Evidently, it’s an experience that many of us can relate to, especially the young. Countless times I’ve heard the term used, but have often found it unfitting, as if more needed to be said. After all, what’s so scary about missing out?
It might be a hard question to answer, but doing so may help you make peace with that otherwise frightening possibility.
Fear of Being Alone
Following a breakup, I began to fill my evenings, always making sure I had plans. Weekends were particularly important. The thought of having nothing to do on a Saturday or Sunday filled me with dread. My strategy kept me occupied for a while, but sooner or later I found myself at a loose end. Then I felt it: FOMO.
I was scared to spend an evening at home by myself. Why? I didn’t know. Rather than run from it, I decided to find out.
I went for a walk through town with my headphones on, wishing to be outdoors but simultaneously in my head. At some point, I noticed my anxiety had been replaced with sadness. Tuning into the feeling, I turned on some melancholic music and took the long route back.
Once home, I had a long bath, made dinner, and sat with my journal. Alone in my safe space, with no fear of being seen or heard, I put my thoughts into words.
I didn’t want to be alone. Why? Because it reminded me I was alone — as in, single — and I didn’t want to be single. Why? Because I wanted to be in a relationship and I wasn’t anymore.
It might sound simple, but that was the first time since my breakup that I admitted to being sad about it. And you know what? The next day, I felt better, with more energy and less of a restless desire to fill my time.
Here, my FOMO turned out to be a fear of facing my situation. Had I called all my friends in a desperate effort to make plans, I would have kept pretending everything was fine. Sometimes when you’re scared to be alone, it’s when you most need to be.
Fear of Losing Friends
Other times, when I’m afraid to miss out, it’s because I’m concerned about how it will make others feel. Will they like me less because I didn’t go? Will everyone else get closer, causing me to be left out? Will they not invite me next time? Though I believe my friendships are genuine, I can’t always shake the thought that they might disown me if I do my own thing.
It took a long time for me to connect this anxiety with loss. To me, bereavement meant being sad. Later, I learned a common symptom is separation anxiety — or yearning. When you’ve lost somebody, you often feel scared to lose someone (or something) else, which can have widespread implications.
For me, I exhausted myself trying to attend every social occasion, clung to friendships which were draining me, and often neglected my own needs for others. In short, I did whatever it took to eliminate the risk of losing another relationship.
If this experience speaks to you, maybe there is a past experience you’re worried about repeating, whether loss, rejection or abandonment. My advice is to run to it, not from it. Spend time with yourself and ask why.
Fear of Letting People Down
Guilt and responsibility are two sides of the same emotional coin. One often leads to the other and so on, back and forth in a cycle. If you don’t think you can relate, see if this scenario sounds familiar.
A friend invites you to a party. They’ve invited lots of people in the hopes they’ll come but also share that many have already sent their apologies. You have something really important to do the next day and want to sleep well to feel fresh, but are struggling with how to explain this to your friend. Any way you phrase it, you hurt their feelings. It’s selfish, you think, to do what’s best for you. They’re your friend. You should be there for them.
Here, the fear isn’t so much missing out, but being blamed. After all, shouldn’t our friends be there for us too? Aren’t our needs equally important?
Worry about upsetting others by caring for yourself often makes friendships seem fragile. It can lead us to think that we are the only one keeping our friendships going and our friends don’t really like us — but this may only be a feeling, not a fact.
The next time you feel pressure to go to a social occasion that you don’t want to attend, don’t go. Then, a few days later, ask your friend how they felt about it. Test the truth of your theory.
Alternatively, you might explain your feelings and reasons clearly (without apologising, as you haven’t done anything wrong) and see if they understand. If not, consider how you’d respond if they cancelled on you. Does it feel equal? Shouldn’t it?
These are just a few examples, but I hope they highlight that FOMO isn’t always what it seems on the surface. If you want to see what’s underneath you, dig a little deeper. You might find it’s not so scary after all.
