Monday Minute #5
Reframing FOMO
In January, a friend gifted me a 2020 calendar/date book splashed with images of my favorite band. I love filling a new calendar each year — marking dates of upcoming trips, birthdays, speaking engagements, important meetings. I like visualizing full months at a time, on paper.
Checking my calendar, I realized it’s been over five weeks since I last saw — in person — my best friends, my boxing trainer, my students, my colleagues, or anyone else in my life.
Five weeks ago, my calendar overflowed with handwritten scribbles of office hour appointments with students, coffee dates with work friends, faculty committee meetings, taco dinners in Manhattan with friends. Now, the pages show squiggly lines drawn through canceled trips, concerts, visits from out-of-town friends.
Last week, when Governor Cuomo extended our shelter-in-place another 30 days, I surprised myself by bursting into tears on my couch. Having survived a lot in my life and considering myself pretty tough now, my immediate reaction was, Why on earth am I crying? I have shelter and income. My daily work keeps me busy. I’m doing Zoom boxing sessions and still trying to get outside every few days to run to the Manhattan Bridge, a bandanna covering my face. I’m staying connected with my friends over texts and phone calls. So, what am I crying about? C’mon, you’re New York tough; you can handle anything!
I’m sad. Thirty more days feels like an eternity. To not hug my friends. To not feel the spark of in-person connection. To be alone. What if this is forever?
Ok. It’s NOT.
It’s funny, I never have FOMO, fear of missing out. Like, ever. I happily stay home on Friday nights, sometimes Saturdays too. This is the weirdest iteration of FOMO; I fear missing out on connecting with other humans ever again. Which is ridiculous, unhealthy, and unhelpful.
If you’re having a similarly distorted version of FOMO, let’s reframe our relationships with time, our calendars, and the future.
We are so accustomed to fast-forwarding ahead…to next weekend, next month, next semester, next summer, next year. As soon as I get on that plane, I’ll relax. As soon as the weather changes, I’ll be more motivated. As soon as I’m on vacation, I’ll be happy. As soon as I achieve [insert the next professional accolade, because the last five we’ve accomplished just weren’t enough], I’ll be stress-free.
Right now, when we wake up in the morning, all we can control is our approach to the next few hours ahead. We have no realistic idea when we will come out of this situation fully, be able to hop on the subway, meet our friends for dinner, embrace one another, sweat it out at the gym, or fly to Italy. Let’s stop fast-forwarding to the days, weeks, and months ahead. Let’s focus on the next 12 hours. And then the next.
What can we do in the next 12 hours to experience joy, creativity, satisfaction, a sense of accomplishment (not matter how minor), positivity, inspiration, or good health? What can we do to help someone else experience those things?
Let’s give ourselves a break from lamenting the squiggly lines through lost experiences in our calendars. Instead, let’s memorialize daily luminarias. No matter how glum we feel, we’ll experience at least one glimmer of bright light today. Today, I…read a cool sentence in a student’s paper. Wrote a creative phrase in my journal. Smiled and felt a sense of camaraderie during Governor Cuomo’s press conference. Had a wacky new idea. Made a friend laugh by joking about how I cut my own bangs by candlelight during Hurricane Sandy. Wore a hat instead of brushing my hair for a Zoom conference, and decided it’s my new lockdown look.
We can do this — for 30, 60, 90 more days, six months, whatever it takes. If we relinquish our past relationship to time and our need to control the future, we’ll squeeze more enjoyment out of each day than we ever thought possible. This experience is going to change our lives forever. Let’s make it for the better.
