FOMO no mo'
Lessons and reflections on missing out for all the right reasons

Growing up in a household with two older sisters, it’s easy to think that I would have encountered FOMO – fear of missing out – at an early age. Anytime I encroached upon their space, conversation or room, they’d say to me, “Don’t come in here, we’re talking about bras and panties!”

I often wondered, “What is there to even talk about? How can so many chats center around underwear?”

I didn’t understand that this overused phrase was a simple tactic to get me to leave the room so they could continue discussing whatever it was that mean ol’ teenage girls spoke about. It wasn’t until I had the awareness that I was being excluded that it started to bother me. Instead of knowing it was just two girls being annoyed with their younger brother, I started to wonder why I couldn’t join them – was I not enough?

What is notable about the term FOMO is that it is a relatively new phrase. Coined in 2004 with the rise of social media sites like MySpace and Facebook, it wasn’t put into the Merriam Webster’s dictionary until 2016. In there, it is defined as this: fear of not being included in something (such as an interesting or enjoyable activity) that others are experiencing.

Although this term was identified 20 years ago, I think it has long existed within our lives. “You must be this high to ride” has excluded children from joining their siblings on carnival rides and rollercoasters for eons. “The table is full, but you can sit at the kid’s table” has pushed tweens out of “grown-up” conversations since the firs Thanksgiving. But this is not a feeling relinquished solely to childhood. Who else has experienced a group of friends making travel or party plans, only to find you’re not part of those plans? I haven’t, but I’m sure it’s very upsetting. I joke – this has happened to me an uncomfortable number of times.

Prior to the advent of social media, it seems like we were able to sit and deal with this discomfort because we perceived it as happening less frequently. Now that we have access to so many friends’ and strangers’ social media accounts, we have a nearly infinite amount of ways to compare ourselves to others. Through this carousel of carefully curated depictions of life, discomfort becomes nearly insurmountable. So much so that what was considered in the past simply as “longing” has malformed into a fear you’re not experiencing the same joy that others are. And that you’re worse off for it.

A quick search online provides many sites dedicated to help those who suffer from FOMO. Tips include: find a way to fill your time, and stop comparing yourself to others. I thought, “How can we stop comparing ourselves to others when we are such incredibly social creatures who gauge our place in structures of friends/family/society through said acts of comparison?”

What are missing in these interactions, however, are important tools that soften or stop the comparison: tools of self-esteem and self-worth.

After a recent encounter with a long-time friend where I felt excluded, I voiced my discomfort and hurt. I shared that I felt like “I am not enough,” which in turn made me question how we value others in our lives. What I hadn’t questioned before this was how I valued myself. I’m sure being “enough” comes easy for some, but for me, it has always been difficult. Making it even more difficult is the need to have it all, which is part of an ideology that has created many issues – both historic and modern – for humans.

Unknowingly challenging this ideology, I chose to observe Durango’s two previous solar eclipses from a traditional Diné standpoint. In that belief system, this cosmic event is considered a sacred act between two powerful beings – the sun and the moon. This act is not meant to be physically observed, because it is something incredibly intimate. During this time, you are meant to stay inside, shut your blinds, and fast, pray and stay reverent. With my blinds drawn and a head full of thoughts, I started to accept the idea that not everything is for us. This directly counters American society’s encouragement to be part of and consume this rare event in the heavens, as if we have a right to it and everything else that is placed before us.

With this, I started to deconstruct the ideology that flames my desire to have it all, and the feelings of inadequacy that burn in me as a result. And although this fire is still lit within, I can feel its blaze beginning to weaken.

By looking inward more frequently, I feel I have accidentally discovered a recipe to stop the pain of FOMO – self-reflections and self-trials beyond directions like “stop comparing yourself to others.” But there are still sections that read blurry to me. I wonder what visual clarity you, the reader, might bring to these parts? Is reading them together the only way to see them clearly? For if we can both stop feeling like we’re missing out, perhaps we can start being fully present – that’s where I hope to be.

– Doug Gonzalez