Turning FOMO into JOMO (Joy of Missing Out)

By Victoria Lewin

I didn’t get a ticket to the biggest party in Freshers’ Week. 

They went on sale way before I even started uni. Who would buy a ticket to go to a party with people they didn’t even know yet? 

Everyone, it turned out. 

Socially anxious? Just me, it would seem. 

As a 19 year old, it didn’t feel cool to be anxious. I was at uni—I should be fun! Up for anything! The life and soul! 

So, instead of admitting that I’d never even bought a ticket in the first place due to crippling anxiety, I told my new pals that I didn’t feel well.

Foolproof plan.

Except a lad from downstairs asked to buy my ticket off me. And, like a total wally, I pretended to search high and low for this non-existent ticket and then said I must have lost it. Silly me.

The result? 

Everyone—even the lad from downstairs, somehow—went to the party and I had an early night and slept like a baby, knowing that I wouldn’t have to make small talk with anyone or worry about coming across as shy and awkward.

Lie. 

What actually happened was that I convinced myself that everyone would make lifelong friends at that party and I’d be sat on my own in my room for the next 4 long years, crying into my pot noodle.

And so began this socially anxious introvert’s battle with FOMO.

Or, what the older-and-slightly-wiser me calls FOMO and FOMOP.

Here’s the difference.

FOMO

My friend was throwing the house party of the year… 

…in Birmingham (I was in Leeds).

The Megabus used to take what seemed liked the best part of a day to travel 120 miles so, working back from that, I needed to leave…yesterday. 

And there was another quite significant complication: I had an essay due the afternoon of the party, and it was in a pretty sorry state.

The conscientious side of me was cursing my poor planning and wondering if submitting an undercooked analysis of a Spanish novel would alter the course of the rest of my life. 

The twenty-something me was thinking, I WILL BE AT THAT PARTY IF IT’S THE LAST THING I DO. 

So I ran to uni at 9 a.m., handed in my sad excuse for an essay, hopped on that Megabus and never looked back.

This was pure FOMO. FOMO motivated by a genuine fear of missing out on something that may never happen again. A feeling of excitement of going somewhere to be with my favourite people and enjoying every minute, living in the moment, making memories (yes, I said it).

And, as it turns out, one floppy essay in your first year doesn’t ruin your degree.

So, What’s FOMOP, Then?

It’s the Fear of Missing Opportunities—something I’ve struggled with as an introvert for as long as I can remember.

It’s my mum’s voice, nagging in the back of my head: ‘I really think you should [insert thing I absolutely don’t want to do], because what if…?’

It’s the Fresher’s party: ‘What if everyone finds their best mates at that party and forgets about me?’

Don’t get me wrong, FOMOP can often work out for the better. It’s been the reason I’ve gone outside my comfort zone on countless occasions. 

How FOMOP Can Be Positive

So, I knew I wanted to do Spanish at uni. But I also knew there was a year abroad involved. 

A whole YEAR ABROAD. Impossible. No, thank you. 

I had a dilemma. If I didn’t do Spanish, I wouldn’t get to live in Spain. If I didn’t live in Spain, I probably wouldn’t ever be fluent in Spanish. If I wasn’t fluent in Spanish, I would be missing out on work and travel opportunities…

FOMOP.

So I did it. I went to Madrid, lived with some hilarious Spanish/Kiwi/Belgian housemates and had some amazing experiences. I went on nights out that started after midnight and watched the sunrise over the Retiro Park. I went on random daytrips out of the city at the drop of a hat. I saw Pearl Jam in a small arena, for goodness’ sake! I’m also fluent in Spanish, so that bit worked too.

But FOMOP can also lead us to say ‘yes’ when we really should be bellowing ‘NO!’ at the top of our lungs.

How FOMOP Can Be Negative

I once hiked up a mountain in the French Alps with a group of friends. Even before I went, I absolutely knew I didn’t like heights, hikes or hills.

But what if it was the best opportunity of my life? Imagine the views! The feeling of achievement! 

FOMOP struck and I found my mouth saying, ‘Yes please, that sounds right up my street.’ 

It was not. 

When we got to the bottom again, I cried my eyes out with relief. Weaving along mountain paths with sheer drops on one side and loose rock faces on the other? Not for me. Not in France, not in the UK, not anywhere. You can’t appreciate a magnificent view if you’re crying with your head between your knees.

I’ve done it with skiing too, come to think of it. Blubbing my way down red runs because my friends were doing them, when, if I’d just been honest with myself, I should’ve stayed on the nursery slope with the toddlers.

This second type of FOMOP, the one where I end up thinking, ‘Why the hell did I put myself through that?’, is the one I now try to turn into JOMO.

The Joy of Missing Out

There is nothing more joyful than knowing something is not my cup of tea, being honest about it and saying ‘no, thanks’. 

Deliberately counting myself out in favour of spending time recharging my social battery, doing my favourite things, or being on my own.

And it’s no secret that friends always prefer an honest and clear ‘no’ over a flaky ‘maybe’ followed by a last-minute no-show.

One of my first experiences of JOMO happened a few years ago.

I went on holiday with my boyfriend and he was keen to go on a scuba diving trip, after signing up for an initial discovery dive.

I can swim, but my anxious brain prevents me from enjoying any sort of mindfulness when I’m in the sea. My thoughts tend towards Jaws rather than The Little Mermaid.

FOMOP? Off the scale. 

What if I never get the chance to scuba dive again?

What if I miss out on seeing some incredible marine life?

How amazing would it be to face my fears? To say that I swam with hammerheads with a finite amount of oxygen strapped to my back and managed not to panic and use it all up and DIE…

And, at that moment, I knew that FOMOP was not healthy in this case.

Going outside your comfort zone and being utterly terrified are two very different things.

And anyway, this was my holiday too and I was going choose what I wanted to do.

So I gave a definitive ‘no’, went snorkelling instead and saw some delightful, small creatures close to the shore, thank you very much.

This was JOMO in all its glory. Missing out on one thing meant I was doing something better for me, at that moment in time.

But saying ‘no’ to invitations and experiences still doesn’t come easily to me. 

As an introvert, I spend a lot of time inside my own head. Aside from the fear of missing an opportunity to improve myself, there’s also the fear of isolating myself socially. 

What if I say ‘no’ too often? Will people stop inviting me or think I’m boring? Will they start to assume I’m not up for things without actually asking me? 

What it comes down to, I suppose, is that I don’t always want to go, but I do want to be invited. 

What a pickle.

Now I’m older, though, I know myself better than ever, and I’ve learnt to squash those thoughts more quickly.

I know what is and isn’t worth pushing my boundaries for.

I know that I don’t have to be up for anything at all times.

I know that good friends will always want me there but will accept it if I’m not keen and will still invite me next time.

And I know that being quiet and reflective does not equal dull. That the peaceful moments can be where the best ideas and inspiration come from. 

Or the peaceful moments can be just that—peaceful. Contrary to what we see on social media—videos of strangers using every spare moment to ‘reset’ their home, karate-chop their cushions or colour-code their knicker drawer—we don’t need to be productive and proactive every hour of the day. 

We can just be.

And, in many ways, by choosing to miss out on one thing, we’re not really missing out at all, but giving ourselves time to breathe, take stock and reflect on what matters…or just have a ruddy good Netflix binge.

HAPHE is a non-profit charity committed to trauma-induced depression prevention. You can learn more about our cause here. Want to get involved? Why not take part in our Short Film Project or Tell Your Story?