FOMO. Fear of missing out. Also just generally quite fun to say. I introduced FOMO in my office and after explaining seven or eight times that it was an abbreviation, I got a chorus of ‘ahh I hate missing anything but life, money, sleep, life.’ Life, money, sleep, life indeed.
Not an easy lot of things to balance. I think I’ve just got over FOMO. I think i don’t care as much anymore and what a great time in life it is. There literally is only so much of you to go around, and when you have more than one friendship group, a job and a limited bank balance, the fear of what you might miss out on that one night or one trip or one holiday or even one meal can be all consuming.
I used to tire myself out by constantly having plans. I’m now at the stage in life when coming home after work, maybe going to the gym to feel better about my three breakfasts, and having little else to do is basically the dream. Getting up early every day of the week to work, getting some stress at work and having to use a lot of energy caring and emailing and meeting and discussing and meeting some more takes it out of you. After a long day at work I have a strong love for laying on the sofa and dipping various foods in Nutella while thinking about what I can actually cook. Who really feels dandy on a Friday after a packed week of work followed by socialising every evening? Not me. Good grief. I can barely find it in myself to wash my hair sometimes. But it’s fine. Working hard at this stage of life is kinda the best time to do it. I think so anyway.
I also think you gotta just let it go when you can’t make the party. By party I mean anything from mid-week drinks to a week away in the sun. What’s actually the worst thing that can happen if you don’t go apart from Instagram envy and maybe a lack of tan?
I feel like realising this worry of not being part of everything is stupid and letting it go has allowed me to actually move on to what I want to do. Me. Meeee me me me me. I want to save money and move house. Current plan. Current feels. So that’s what I’m doing. If it means saying no to Sunday brunches and missing a birthday tequila marathon or two, then so be it. I like to think I’ve developed a surrounding of friends who understand when you turn down plans. Some of the happiest people I know certainly don’t have FOMO, and I’m pretty happy to join the club.