I am constantly plagued by a severe, existential fear of missing out — commonly known as “FOMO.” I worry that because I skipped the library, the gym or class today, I missed a cosmic encounter with someone who won’t be there next time.
This anxiety feeds directly into one of the heaviest burdens on my ennui-filled mind: deciding whether to go out. The process alone is exhausting — coordinating with friends, mustering the energy to get ready and hoping my social mood can overcome a desperate desire to appeal to the beholder’s eye.
I often find myself going to events just to be seen by someone else, dressing for a crowd and fishing for attention, even as I convince myself I’m doing it for me. While my default state is lying in bed, I suffer from terrible anxiety, whether I leave my room or stay put, trapped in a relentless loop of questions: Who will I miss? What if something happens? What if I’m no longer in the know?
Why do we suffer from a paralyzing fear of missing out? According to a report in the World Journal of Clinical Cases, the term “fear of missing out” was introduced in 2004 to describe a specific anxiety associated with social networking sites. Technically, this implies there is no modern FOMO without social media — if we have no idea what other people are doing, we can’t feel left out.
However, the root of the feeling predates the digital age. The report notes that our innate “need to belong and form stable interpersonal relationships” is what truly drives FOMO. We aren’t just missing a party; we’re missing a chance to be part of something bigger than ourselves.
How do I combat this, you ask? In equally severe ways:
The first line of defense: the digital detox. Whether it’s turning on Do Not Disturb for a day or quitting social media cold turkey for a month, I’ve found digital fasts extremely helpful for tuning out other people’s lives and focusing on my own.
When social media is too hard to relent, my foolproof body check meditation may help. This is how I put myself to sleep (in addition to a baby dose of melatonin). Take a deep breath in, hold it and exhale. On your next breath, imagine inhaling a warm, golden bubble. As you exhale, send that bubble down through your torso and to your feet. With each breath, feel the warmth relaxing every limb it goes through. If you still want to go out after all that calm, go.
For those who are unable to calm their hearts or their minds, or think in economic models, like a dentist giving a kid a lollipop, distract, distract, distract. While you might be missing one thing, you have to actively commit to another and embrace the opportunity cost. You will often find more net benefit in the alternative. This could be watching a movie, painting, calling your parents, eating ice cream in bed, playing Minecraft or The Sims 4, or hanging out with a few close friends. Do whatever brings you just as much joy as seeing the same 50 people at the same three repetitive functions.
And as a last and final resort, think about your absolute worst-case scenario. Imagine bumping into the one person you do not want to see. Anticipate falling down the stairs. Remind yourself that the venue will be sweaty and gross, the bathroom line will be an hour long (there’s probably something sticky on the floor) and the Uber home will cost $60.
These steps help me make informed decisions driven by my actual desires rather than my anxieties. You’re welcome. I hope you find your balance soon — or, at the very least, find a way to stay in bed unbothered.
Zoe Chao is a Medill junior and author of “Undecided.” She can be contacted at [email protected]. If you would like to respond publicly to this op-ed, send a Letter to the Editor to [email protected]. The views expressed in this piece do not necessarily reflect the views of all staff members of The Daily Northwestern.
