Fear of Missing Out… or In?
”You ain’t missing out on nothing when you’re getting your shit together.” – French Montana.
That’s what it said on my Facebook Wall. It was such a relief to read those words. It felt as if they were reaching through the screen to acknowledge and support me. This vacation I decided not to go on holiday, not to go to festivals, but to stay home, read the novels that had been waiting patiently on the shelf and digest the year by resting, reflecting and writing. But dear me: that was hard… Seeing as the rest of the aforementioned Facebook Wall was full of happy people in beautiful places, connecting and going on adventures. The fear of missing out (FOMO) hadn’t been this bad since high school. I felt isolated and stuck, and I questioned my decision many times a day.
Busy Doing Great Things
For almost as long as I can remember, I have been busy. People often inquire about my calendar in a worried tone: ‘Are you getting enough rest? It seems like you’re everywhere.’ ‘Rest?’ I would say to myself. ‘Yes, I should really rest more. Someday this pace will catch up with me. But right now, there are these important/awesome/necessary/enriching things I need to do. And since I still find time to procrastinate, I should easily be able to fit this workshop/project/party in as well, right?’
Fear of Missing ‘In’
Then, a few weeks ago, I got another call to slow down. But this time it came from the inside. The voice from the depth was actually louder than the voice in my mind – the one telling me to stay in the game. And the tiredness in my body was singing the same song: slow down! The desire to care for and listen to myself became greater than the fear of missing something essential ‘out there.’ I stepped off the hamster wheel and saw it whizzing on without me. My stomach churned; it would be so easy and familiar to jump back in. It is uncomfortable here, to say the least. I am scared stiff of what I’ll find out when the dust of doing has settled in my being enough to see clearly again. Meanwhile, my mental chatter is insidiously telling me that what I’m doing (being) is ‘not enough’ in an endlessly creative variety of ways. Yet it seems this is now more important than anything external that I am missing while I’m sitting on my couch or in the park. Because what would I miss if I don’t turn inward?
Who am I?
One of the things I found out so far is that my self-image is a rich amalgamation of (among many other things) how other people see me; how I think I should and could be; the relationships I have; and the roles I fill. My ‘true self’ is hard to discern in there. So here I am, on the couch, reading my diary and stroking the cat and feeling (and resisting feeling) and scribbling notes and napping: essential ingredients for getting my shit together. Finding my roots so that I don’t betray myself anymore; feeling into my purpose so I make decisions that will help me fulfil it; inviting in my joy and desire so I can have fun along the way; opening up to receive help from the amazing people around me, so I don’t fall into the trap of believing I have to do it all myself. And trust. Wow. When I connect to Trust, I feel safe in the face of the unknown that is the rest of my life, it becomes an impossibility to miss out on anything worth experiencing.
