The Power Of FOMO

FOMO. The fear of missing out.

This can be a real mental struggle for those who struggle or have struggled with addictions.

I’m coming up on 4 years of sobriety from alcohol, and recently I’ve found myself in a few scenarios where the urge to have a drink has become a real consideration.

A couple of weeks ago, I was at the beach with my wife, and we went out to a local bar & restaurant with live music. We had to wait for a table but could hang out by the band as the dance floor filled up. As we waited, we decided to go to one of the bars and grab some sodas. The bartender asked me if I wanted to keep my tab open, and at that moment, I realized it had been 4 years since anyone asked me that question. I was immediately transported back to my drinking days, and a feeling of discontentment rushed through me.

Here I was with my wife, standing around a bunch of strangers, feeling like I was missing out on something. Like I needed to partake in the party with everyone else. As if the only way to have a good time was by having a drink.

I took a second to take inventory of where I was, what I was doing, and who I was with. I was right where I wanted to be, doing what I wanted to be doing, with whom I wanted to be with.

Everything was fine. Maybe even great.

It turns out I wasn’t missing anything, even if my brain almost tricked me for a second.

Fast forward to this current week. I’ve spent the past few days in Dallas for a team event hosted by the company I work for. It has been an awesome and exhausting week of connection, socializing, and thought-provoking discussions. The days were long, and many chose to extend their evenings by going to the local bars downtown. By the second night of holding out from joining the groups to whatever places they were going—partly because I wanted as much sleep to prepare for my early morning runs and partly because I was afraid of the potential temptation of wanting a drink—I began to feel weird. I began to feel different.

The next morning I went down to the lobby, and it turned out that not many people did go out late, and the ones that went out didn’t drink too much.

I took a second to think about what had played out in my head the night before, and I laughed at myself.

I really didn’t miss all that much, even if my brain almost tricked me for a second.

By the third night, I realized that maybe the crowd I was hanging with was more responsible than the drunk I used to be. So, I decided to take a chance and told myself I could always bail early if I felt uncomfortable. But it was an awesome time spent with a bunch of cool people.

That’s the thing about FOMO—it isn’t real. It’s a captivating story that can grab hold of us and change our condition.

I’m so grateful that I make a daily choice not to drink anymore, but the work is never done. And I guess I need to start telling myself better stories.