F*ck the Fear of Missing OUT!
FOMO. The fear of missing out.
Do you suffer with it?
Feel it?
Does it cause that battle internally?
The constant push, pull. Weighing up the pro’s and con’s. Then you say to yourself “fuck it I only live once”.
A week passes Friday night comes around again, you had every intention on the Monday that just passed, to be better, live better and grant yourself permission that the next weekend you would look after yourself. Fuel the body with health and take some well earned rest.
But when that call comes in on a Friday, you know the one, just after your ready to clock out, after a week of hard graft and it’s one of your best mates. “Couple of beers tonight?”
The thirst is real. You want to go home to that beautiful weekend you had planned. But, you can taste that amber nectar touching your lips.
Your mind telling you, “you deserve to let your hair down” or “we will only go for a couple that’s it”
Before you know it, it is 5am in your mates kitchen, your talking utter nonsense (probably some way to fix the country or a mad idea to take over the world) and contemplating how you never want this night to end.
You ask “Do you think we should call some more in?”
But some where in our psyche, when day light hits, we realise, the night does end, it has to end. The light peers through the curtains, birds are tweeting and nature is starting to blissfully come alive.
You start to become more aware of your surroundings. The carnage that is left. It look’s like a crime scene. Maybe it should be a crime scene. The work surfaces are filled with speckles of white powder, a rolled up note, empty bottles, beer, vodka, gin and what ever your cheap crap, you got given as a gift at Christmas that was tucked away deep in the cupboards.
You smell. Smoked too many fags. Your voice sounds very tired, worn out and you try to go wee. God weeing is so hard in this state. Especially with your smaller than it normally is penis.
“Oh shit” you realise. Your mind starts to realise, the penny has dropped you need to go to bed! The epiphany moment that today, which is now very much the beginning of Saturday you have a family event at 4pm.
“How the fuck do I get out of that?” You ask yourself. You have already fucked up how your starting the rest of your weekend, so may as well let that ripple and effect others.
So finally after navigating through the carnage. You get to bed on your mates sofa. A questionable cushion is supporting your head and a blanket that has seen better days, smells a little odd if we are honest. With nothing on but your piss stained pants. You are tired, so bloody tired, it has been a long week at work and as you go to close your eyes down to rest your weary body.
It hits you. Like a car hitting you at the national speed limit. ANXIETY!
Hello darkness my old friend. It’s toying with you, making your skin cruel and telling you everything you should be disgusted, shamed about. It’s got your chest now, digging its claws and strangling your heart. God does anxiety suck. Like really fucking suck.
“Fuck me I wish I didn’t do it” you say in your head.
Well you have. You start wishing there was some type of magic button that you could just fall asleep and wake up in 8 hours. Refreshed. Alive. Happy. Present. Or to erase the actions from your memory. That ain’t happening. You try to visualise yourself being in a happy place or a place in your past that brought you happiness. Again it’s short lived, head pounding and thoughts spiralling negatively.
If you are anything like me, every time I thought I was about to fall asleep, I needed a piss. When my aching body got to the toilet it was a whole different ordeal. The concentration on making yourself wee was a next level game of focus.
Then as you leave toilet, you try to blow your nose, get some relief from the blockage, so you can free up air streams to sleep better. Getting rid of crusty, dirty and probably 80% talcum powder out.
You get the picture. This picture is not meant to be glorious or a piece drawn by Van Gogh. Oh no this is the reality of our actions. I am not glamorising the reality for anyone.
But and by some weird turn of events, we then hit repeat button again next Friday or Thursday. I mean when do we learn. The high is so short term, but the effects of our actions and decisions last all week. Until we can escape our reality again. The repetitive cycle effecting our ability to make our own decisions. We are weak, unable to listen and communicate effectively with ourselves.
We then proceed to wish after this, that Monday doesn’t come around. Full of dread and anxiety on a Sunday night after a evening of junk food to try make yourself feel normal.
Then on the Monday wishing every second of the day away. Wishing time away is suicide in itself. You have won the bloody lottery being here, you are 1 in 400,000,000. I am pretty sure our loving parents when they conceived us many years ago, intention wasn’t for us to be wishing our lives away. Tuesday is just as worst, Wednesday is hump day and Thursday you just looking forward to either Thirsty Thursday or finishing up on Friday. To make more questionable decisions.
Does this sound bonkers? Surely if you are reading this and this is part of your own reality, surely your reading thinking “What the bloody hell am I doing”
Not only is this a form of a abuse, it is a self imposed prison sentence and mental torture.
We are spending 6 out of the 7 days missing out on life. For a few hours high, talking about how you nearly made it as a Footballer or a dolphin trainer.
This isn’t living, this is escaping your reality and not being present. This is death warmed up. People that we have lost are living more now than we are now.
So FOMO!!!
FOMO is effectively a decision, it’s effectively a choice between you and you! We all get the freedom of choice. When you make a decision it sets of a domino effect on life. Make the decision your trying to avoid or do less of. That decision has repercussions it is not just in effect in that moment, it is now scripted and engrained in your psyche.
For example, if all week I kept saying to myself “I am going to honour myself this weekend, rest, get into nature, go for a nice breakfast, read, cook, have a coffee with mate and just be present with my family” then it gets to Friday I instead decide to go for a few beers, that end up as 5am job. Your basically telling yourself your word to self means fuck all.
Now if your word means fuck all and holds no value to you. What do you think your word means to anyone else? I tell you what it means, worthless and it is a energy that you will transmit.
That may sound harsh but it’s true, I know it because that was me.
My ex partner would ask me “Do I trust her” I would tell her without doubt I trusted her with my heart. But as soon as she left the door I would be anxious mess and was shitting myself that she would do the dirty on me. Eventually she did the above and not only that, said “you never trusted me”.
Quite frankly I had it coming. I didn’t trust anyone, let alone myself and I have just proved why I struggled to trust other humans. We always here the most important quality of a relationship is ‘trust’ or it should be built on ‘trust’. Well fuck me!!! How can we trust anyone if we do not trust our own actions or self.
See where I am going with this. It is not about what your saying, life can see right through them lies, it can smell it, feel it and that in turn spreads like a wild fire into life all aspects of life. It is all about what your decisions are saying to self. You will in turn transmit your bull shit on to others.
So what happens when you don’t go?
Now I will tell you on the Friday night I used to think I was missing out. What if it was the best night ever? The internal chitter chatter would be very vocal “You should have had a beer you deserve it.” “I could be having a line right now.” To name just a couple.
That is fear talking, it doesn’t want you being comfortable, it wants you to scurry back to the discomfort. Sometimes I still to this day feel this fears power. But the truth of the matter is, it’s never the best night ever! And you never regret waking up feeling fresh. NEVER!
Yeah it may well be a new venue, or a glamorous new brunch spot, a different space, someone’s special occasion or an excuse to just get out of hand because ‘you deserve it’
Reality is that night you missed, was probably just a piece of dog turd wrapped up in a different coloured bow to look nice and tasty.
Your mind will tell you how good it is. How much you need it. But that is because you have became comfortable in the pain, in the self harm and in not holding yourself to a higher standard.
When you wake up Fresh, the world is a little more clearer, you have a little more clarity, you start honouring self, learning what you actually enjoy, being a little more present with family and doing things that are in your interest.
You go to sleep on a Sunday with a view that the cup is half full rather than empty. Attacking the week with a little spring in your step. Rather than sinking stupid amounts of caffeine to get you to a level.
FOMO is nothing but a choice.
I have painted a pretty negative picture on one of my choices. But that’s the point to all of this. I can tell myself how positive my decision to say fresh is, but the lure of the negative one will always somehow pull me back in. Although I have this beautifully painted picture of what the best decision for me looks like.
So the only way to break away from FOMO when making a decision that doesn’t serve you anymore. Is to create pain, paint the horrible picture, picture the aftermath of the next day, feel what it would be like in pain that was inflicted on self. You have to create immense PAIN.
So if you have had enough of this feeling, paint a accurate picture that represents the next Morning.
And remember….
All choices take a domino effect on life, emotionally, physically, externally, how we view the world and how others view you.
