Edgephobia

I remember exactly when my concept of FOMO was instilled. I was 13 years old, giddy, and overflowing with innocence. It was middle school, we no longer had  the circular lunch tables from elementary school,  but we finally had a cafeteria – new location unlocked. It was me and my seven best friends against the world, or I guess against a small town in the Greater Toronto Area.  

I’m sure you can imagine how chaotic a friend group of eight could be. We were loud and  obnoxious, without a care in the world. This behavior was excused and encouraged due to our  recent welcome to the big kids’ club. This newfound authority on top of my emerging femininity  (AKA boobs) had me feeling invincible; and this feeling only really faded on two separate yet repeated occasions: the Pythagorean theorem modules in math class, and lunch time. However only the latter really mattered.  

A friend group of eight at a rectangular table was bound to be a recipe for disaster. With a  clear division of seating, the middle four were always the center of conversation, while both sets  of two on the outskirts were consistently left in the dark. And that was the villain origin story of  “EdgePhobia”, the tensest game I have ever played. I won’t get into very many details, but the  gist of the game was to run to our unofficial designated table and try to hinder the other seven in their  pursuit of the middle. Although all of this may sound borderline crazy and slightly concerning, it truly is one of my first memories of evident and blatant FOMO.  I was not very athletically blessed, but I would have done anything to avoid the looming feeling of not knowing the joke, or worse, being the punchline. The worry of not being a main character in the story that might be told for the years to come was the carrot being dangled in front of me, just enough to have me partake in this dreadful game. But let’s face it, carrots really are not that tasty, and I really was not missing anything. 

Although people may think it differs, FOMO often manifests the same way now as it did when I was 13. However, now, with a much more developed brain, the internal battle becomes harder. At this big age, we now typically know that we are doing certain things, seeing certain people, or going to certain places out of fear of missing out on the joke, the event, the company, or whatever it may be. Knowing that this rather juvenile fear has the power to dictate our every move, somehow makes it worse. I can’t help but feel as though I am failing myself, as I abide by FOMOs needs and desires, allowing it to make the executive decisions, in-lieu of me

Nonetheless, I think being “edged out” at times in the past really set the foundation for my future relationships. This increased my confidence exponentially, not only in myself, but even more so in my friendships. Unintentionally, I had sought other ways to connect with friends, further fortifying our bonds. As I felt more secure in my friendships, my fears of missing out diminished, until they vanished completely. 

My journey of self-development had to start by recognizing that the connections I form  with others are mine, and no one else’s. I was engrossed by the idea that I had to be at the center of all stories and hangouts, but unfortunately, that was a strenuous lifestyle to sustain. Living in  fear of missing out was arguably far more detrimental than actually missing out.  Abiding by what my FOMO wanted me to do, instead of what I needed to do for myself, was emotionally and physically exhausting. I never took time for myself, since evidently, I would be missing something by doing so. I also found that I started resenting my social life, feeling as though I had to be there made things that I should have been enjoying start to feel like tasks. I had it all twisted. 

This shift in mindset only proved to be positive. Once my FOMO subsided, I was able to lead a social life on my own terms, and not become anxiety-ridden at the thought of missing a cottage trip or a party on a random Wednesday. Now, after having missed many stories, events, jokes, trips, hangouts, and a plethora of other things, I can safely say that nothing really happens when you do. Nothing changes, your friendships remain the same, your own experiences remain the same, your life remains the same. Although I can’t exactly say how to achieve this mindset, and I recognize that it may be easier said than done, I just know that FOMO is literally a waste of your’s, and everyone else’s time. Trust me when I tell you, nothing is ever that serious.