The 'FOMO'
About two weeks ago, I was scrolling through my social media and up popped this advertisement for a really awesome deal for sports tickets which I just so happen to be majorly obsessed with. {sometimes I feel like a fan-girl, but then I remember that there are plenty of boys who fan-girl over their little football teams and games and whatever}
So, even though the money-saving-fanatic angel on my right shoulder was telling me to throw that wad of cash into my savings account, the fun-loving sports-crazed angel on my left shoulder punched the other angel in the throat and told me to go to get the dang tickets.
So I did.
These tickets were like a mini-package, one set price for all the home games in the month of February. Granted, you don't know where you are sitting until a few hours before the actual game; nonetheless, just one game of sitting in the lower part of the arena literally makes up for the set price paid for all nine of the games.
So what?
I think I have finally bottled up my feelings in such a way as to label what I am feeling.
But that really isn't the kind of FOMO from which I have been suffering.
Earlier this week, there was a sports game that none of my family, including me, could attend because we had already made plans for that night elsewhere. I wanted the tickets to go to good use and I was able to give them to a friend; when I saw where my friend would be sitting for the game, a feeling of jealousy overwhelmed me, and not towards her, because after all, I was the one giving her the tickets. I was suffering from the fear of missing out; that although the plans that my family and I had made for that night were really carried out because of me, I wished that I could clone myself and be at both places at once.
And I don't think this is a superficial issue that can be blamed on fascination and enthusiasm.
I believe the issue stems deeper into the voice of the heart.
Satisfaction cannot sustain the heart; in manufacturing gladness, many of us live vicariously.
No matter how much I enjoy a sports game or an Irish-themed dance or a concert or a glass of wine or game of pool, no matter how much satiation I achieve, I may still come up hungry. Satisfaction and gratification are not directly correlated.
That night, when we were sitting in the theater waiting for the show that I had been so excited to see for over a month, I was on my phone, texting my friend about the sports game; I was on my sports app looking at the scores of games that I was neither attending nor watching on television.
I had FOMO for things that I actually was missing out on all the while I was truly missing out on what was right in front of me.
"Focus on this," my dad said kindly, his voice peaceful.
That is when the little voice inside my head relayed to me that through the mental state of FOMO, I am indeed missing out on what is right in front of me, on the present, on my life.
Focus on this.
So, even though the money-saving-fanatic angel on my right shoulder was telling me to throw that wad of cash into my savings account, the fun-loving sports-crazed angel on my left shoulder punched the other angel in the throat and told me to go to get the dang tickets.
So I did.
These tickets were like a mini-package, one set price for all the home games in the month of February. Granted, you don't know where you are sitting until a few hours before the actual game; nonetheless, just one game of sitting in the lower part of the arena literally makes up for the set price paid for all nine of the games.
So what?
I think I have finally bottled up my feelings in such a way as to label what I am feeling.
FOMO. The Fear of Missing Out.When you google the term 'FOMO' to kind of get an idea of what could be the cause of this 'fear of missing out,' you will find articles about the fear of missing out in relation to social media addiction. Kids, teens, and even adults have become addicted to social media more or less because they are worried that they will miss something important.
But that really isn't the kind of FOMO from which I have been suffering.
Earlier this week, there was a sports game that none of my family, including me, could attend because we had already made plans for that night elsewhere. I wanted the tickets to go to good use and I was able to give them to a friend; when I saw where my friend would be sitting for the game, a feeling of jealousy overwhelmed me, and not towards her, because after all, I was the one giving her the tickets. I was suffering from the fear of missing out; that although the plans that my family and I had made for that night were really carried out because of me, I wished that I could clone myself and be at both places at once.
And I don't think this is a superficial issue that can be blamed on fascination and enthusiasm.
I believe the issue stems deeper into the voice of the heart.
Satisfaction cannot sustain the heart; in manufacturing gladness, many of us live vicariously.
No matter how much I enjoy a sports game or an Irish-themed dance or a concert or a glass of wine or game of pool, no matter how much satiation I achieve, I may still come up hungry. Satisfaction and gratification are not directly correlated.
"Satisfaction comes from the satiation - the attempt to find comfort by avoiding the hearts necessary pain. We use sensual means to silent the heart's desires, leaving us ultimately lusting for more." Chip Dodd"When our hearts aren't present, we attempt to make ourselves happy through the brain, skin, or self-will. We use the brain to find adrenaline or meaning. We use the skin to "feel good" by experiencing physical pleasure, or we use willpower as the fuel to fix ourselves or achieve worth as surrogate fulfillment."
"Gratification comes from gratitude. It uses the pleasure and passion we have for life that comes from being adept at feelings. Gratification operated out of out God-given craving for life and allows us to press into a future with a passion in the midst of pain." Chip DoddFilling my time away from work with things that I enjoy to do does not necessarily mean that I am going to enjoy life any better.
That night, when we were sitting in the theater waiting for the show that I had been so excited to see for over a month, I was on my phone, texting my friend about the sports game; I was on my sports app looking at the scores of games that I was neither attending nor watching on television.
I had FOMO for things that I actually was missing out on all the while I was truly missing out on what was right in front of me.
"Focus on this," my dad said kindly, his voice peaceful.
That is when the little voice inside my head relayed to me that through the mental state of FOMO, I am indeed missing out on what is right in front of me, on the present, on my life.
Focus on this.
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