FOMO…Redefined
As I was coming up on 90 days of alcohol-free living, I came back to a notion I had when I was just about two weeks in. I was asked to ‘bartend’ mocktails for the sober curious workshop at my old gym and was really looking forward to it. Everyone who attended had myriad reasons behind why they were sober or sober curious, ranging from those looking to moderate to those who had years of sobriety under their belts, but there was one common theme: COMMUNITY. We were all just looking for like-minded people that we could connect with in and/or out of the gym. When the time came for my absolute least favorite thing, the round-robin introductions (ugh), the goal I shared was to reframe what FOMO meant to me.
The most common understanding of FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) is that you will miss out on an invitation to a social event, whether it’s brunch, a fancy gala or a simple gathering of friends. In my desire to live alcohol-free, I started to look at FOMO as missing out on the memories of these experiences because of the effects of alcohol: potential over-consumption of booze, the inevitable hangover and the holes in the sequence of events that made the night a blur. The blur was diminishing my ability to appreciate the time spent or to actually enjoy myself. I didn’t realize it at the time, but in my extreme efforts to numb myself from feeling, I was also fraying the edges of how I showed up for myself and others.
Needless to say, it was time to redefine what FOMO means to me. I no longer want to miss out on being fully present and engaged with the people in my inner circle. I want to ditch the unfortunate habit of repeating the same story I told an hour ago and I am determined to cherish the time that others share with me. While I value my alone time to be able to decompress and recharge, I also want to ensure that I’m not showing up empty-handed. I don’t mean in the way of bringing a gift for the host(s), but in mind and spirit. Countless times, I showed up when I was depleted and had nothing to give or add to the conversation, simply out of fear of not being invited the next time. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see my friends, but mentally and emotionally, I was fried…and everyone was none the wiser. I put a smile on my face and gave vague updates so many times, it felt like I was always on autopilot.
Today I am three months in on this AF journey, and I’m more selective about how and with whom I choose to spend my time. I don’t let the feeling of obligation allow me to betray my boundaries and I honor myself by saying no without explanation. When I do show up, it’s deliberate and more authentic each time. These days, I’ve noticed that my smile feels more genuine and that’s a damn good feeling.
