FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) symptoms typically arise at about 5 p.m. on Thursday afternoon. You run into your friend at the rec, and they inquire about what activities you will engage in that night.
“I can’t go out tonight. I have a test tomorrow morning.”
As soon as the words pass your lips, you come to the sudden, daunting realization that everyone will be hanging out, probably having the most fun night of their lives on this very evening, and you will not be there. You tell yourself that it’s fine. You’re here to get an education, not go to fun parties and meet cool new people, anyways. Just one night won’t ruin your whole college experience…or will it?
Its 7 pm on that same Thursday, and you’re eating dinner at the BLUU before heading to the library to study--or at least try to--for your test in the morning. In order to avoid conversations about the festivities of the best night ever that your friends are about to embark upon, you get up to grab another plate of food, bowl of cereal, bite of something, until you have accumulated a pile of plates and a day’s worth of calories. You secretly hope that nothing fun goes on and no one goes out, but then your phone starts blowing up with text messages of addresses for house parties. FOMO has you right where it wants you, sinking into your pores with every “I am so excited” or “I can’t wait for tonight” that travels back and forth across the table. You fall deep into melancholia, lamenting on the fact that you will become a distant memory in everyone’s mind after missing the best night ever. They will talk about this night for the rest of their lives, and you will feel left out every time they mention it. You imagine yourself at parties, weddings, even funerals, awkwardly laughing out to the side as one of them tells a funny story from that evening. Now you’re too sad and far too full to go to the library, so you go to your room instead.
By 9 pm, FOMO has entered the bloodstream, and your sorrow becomes anger. Your roommate is getting ready, making phone calls, and taking shots. They beg you to come out, and you have only a small amount of willpower left, but just enough to refuse. You blame your professor, that evil teacher who foolishly, or rather, sinisterly, scheduled a test for your 9 am class the following morning. How dare he? Doesn't he know that it’s thirsty Thursday? Doesn't he know that this will be the best night ever?
After about an hour of this brutality, the anger begins to cloud your judgment. The pressure of your roommate putting on their clothes, making those last minute alterations to themselves before heading out the door gets to you. You wonder if you should just throw in the towel, jump on the bandwagon, and join your friends. FOMO has set in, and you the hallucinations begin. On your right shoulder rests the angel, and on your left shoulder rests the devil.
You consider your options:
Going out would surely show him that just like Miley Cyrus, you can’t be tamed. Showing up with stamps on your hand that say “UGLY” or “FACE” from Aardvark would set your professor straight.
“That’s right. I am hungover, possibly even drunk, but I will still dominate this test. Next time you’ll think twice before giving a test on Friday.”
The devil would say absolutely, but the angelic friend on the other shoulder would say “heavens no.” You wonder if you will regret this decision for the rest of your life. What’s that phrase, again? Ah, yes, YOLO. You immediately decide that this decision to stay in will haunt you for the rest of your life, but the real debate revolves around whether that regret will be greater than the regret of failing the test. This involves more personal reflection.
If you managed to resist the temptation to go out by 11 pm, you may be in the clear, but you are certainly not out of the woods. At this stage FOMO is no longer just a condition, it has become an incurable, crippling disease. You lay in your bed, try to review your notes or watch some Netflix, but you just can’t take your mind off of the pain, the agony, of missing the best night ever. Paranoia keeps you awake. You ask yourself, “Are they talking about me? I wonder if anyone even notices my absence.”
The next morning you wake up, take your test, and leave feeling relieved, responsible, and refreshed. But something’s missing, and you just can’t quite put your finger on it. Your test was easy, so although you’re probably a little bitter that you didn't attend the best night ever, you know you aced it. This is when you realize that you are missing that feeling of nausea, misery, and regret. It’s Friday afternoon and you’re not hungover. Whatever will you do while all of your friends, if they still remember you that is, are lying in bed whining about how stupid they acted last night?
This is what medical professionals call a relapse. Once FOMO takes over, there is no going back. Soon you will fear missing out on just about everything in life, maybe even class (doubtful). In a way, this kind of FOMO could be up-lifting. However, the anxiety, the worry, over what other people are doing when you’re not there has no cure. It is, however, treatable with only one remedy: going out. Unfortunately, if whatever prevents you from doing so is unavoidable, you will be forced to suffer the symptoms of FOMO until you are able to receive proper treatment.
