Antisocialmedia

FOMO.

I’ve always had a massive Fear of Missing Out, long before it became a cool acronym to hashtag on Twitter. It most likely stems from having a hard time being socially accepted as a child. I knew then I was missing out, and longed to feel included.

Skip forward a few years, and I found my kin. I became surrounded by love, and managed to feel that I was on the inside of the circle and not observing from a distance. Having known just how great that felt, losing it was beyond difficult. Following a move, my world was lonely again. I clung to the circle, the fear of starting again too great. It became a constant battle to stay dancing inside that circle, so many factors at play, and above all, my whining, simmering self-doubt reminding me that I would be forgotten if I did not remain memorable. It was exhausting.

I developed coping mechanisms to fend off the unhappiness that darkened my skies. Be at every event, bring snacks, text before and after to thank for the invite. Remember every birthday. Make undue effort to be available in any circumstance without notice. Chase, chase, chase. Remain fun. Don’t complain. Tell the best jokes. Look after people. Get drunk (or put it on a little so you’re not seen as antisocial). Perform.

Nothing worked, and I felt like I was trying to stop sand slipping between my fingers.

Eventually I withdrew to my safe place (the sofa) and spent a great deal of time attempting to give friends their space, and hoping that one day, I’d be chased and not chasing.

Well I was not chased. At least, not with the fervour that I had chased. Somehow, I did remain in the circle. And I became a little less exhausted. Around this time I had joined Facebook, and began to vent my frustrations on my ‘Wall’. There was much else going on for me, I had serious problems with work colleagues and was really struggling to keep my anxious head above water. It felt so good to share with my few FB friends (20 or so?) and, through their support, remember that someone was on my side and I could survive. I loved sharing the cool things I occasionally did and the beautiful food I ate to excess. I found another circle.

As the popularity of Facebook grew, a new set of social rules to conform to emerged. Only ever have fun. Show us your food (but not too much), rant (but not too often), be honest (but not too honest). Don’t discuss work. Don’t discuss your problems. Don’t seek sympathy (not that I ever wanted that).

Likes became popularity points. As my friends list grew, my life slowly paled in comparison to everyone else’s. The questions began:  do I have what I want? What is important? How can I compete with the greatness of others?

I withdrew again.

My world was lonely. Stress and worry became crippling, mostly because of problems at work, but exacerbated by a loss of outlet.

As an introvert, I was dispairing at the time as a lot of issues that I was having were, in my perception, brought about by the lack of understanding of the difference between extroverts and introverts. Essentially, at that time, he/she who shouted loudest got their way, and I’ve never been a shouter. I was attacked about the way I was, reacted and worked, as it was different to all of my colleagues. Hating confrontation, I struggled to fight back. It was terrifying and lonely.

Then I joined a local social group. Got involved in something constructive that got me out of the house and away from my raincloud of lonely self doubt. Met a kindred spirit, a fun friend who reminded me what cool was and that I could be part of that.

It took a long while, but that and a change of job, despite a sudden bereavement which tore a hole in my heart, helped me begin to heal and work toward that elusive ‘happy’ we all seek. A few years later, I had found balance, and although I had left the social group, I retained the social circle and that made me feel warm inside.

But it didn’t last. Cue the arrival of an extrovert.

Social media is great for connecting but also for showing off. I began to notice that my FOMO was growing in direct relation to the amount of fun my Facebook aquaintancies published themselves as having. Before long, this particular extrovert was projecting my kindred spirit as her bestie, and I spiralled once again, self doubt blossoming and mourning a friendship I felt sure to lose. Every time there was a post on Facebook of a Saturday night out/in that I hadn’t been invited to, I hated myself a little more. Why could I not be good enough for these people?

In addition to my inadequacies, I felt that the extrovert was the favourite of everyone, and I could not understand why they couldn’t see how damaging the behaviour was. Checking in everyone everywhere, like at every single pub on a pub crawl. Finding out your weak spots and fears and then using them. (I had a lengthly conversation in her presence once about how a new girl had chosen my kindred spirit to be her own, leaving me feeling like my friend had been thieved from me. Her advice was “No-one can be stolen if they don’t want to be”. She has made every effort since then to get closer to my kindred spirit and sell an image to the world that they are best friends, creating ways they can spend time together alone, or in the company of people further from our group. And all, I couldn’t help but feel, to exert her control over me and anyone else is the group,  projecting to the world that even the worst of parties had been amazing. This is easy to for party attendees to dismiss and laugh at, of course:. But when you’ve not made the guest list, it leads to Sunday mornings of scrolling through numerous images and inside jokes posted on Facebook: a stark reminder of how fucking awful your life is in comparison, and how you will never measure up. You’re not cool, you’re not funny, and all of your friends seem to agree.

.

i know they don’t. Discussing these feelings with my kindred spirit reassures me of this. It’s an illusion, slight of hand, a distortion of reality. The frustrating thing is the lack of control over the portrayal of events put forward by another. I decided a while ago that I couldn’t let paranoia engulf me, and where in the past I felt compelled to seek reassurance about the situation, I realised this placed my friend in a difficult position. As if the situation wasn’t frustrating enough. I decided I could no longer put her in the middle. It’s unfair. She’s often said to me that I afford more understanding to the extrovert than she ever would to me. But that’s how I have to be. The better man. The rebel. Who in spite of her low opinion of herself refuses to let any bitch walk all over her. I do exact revenge, in ways that are possibly not even seen by the other, but in ways that make me feel smugly superior and more over remind me that not all battles are seen. Often the worst battles are battles with yourself.

And this brings us to now. I am now slowly withdrawing from Facebook, as a power play more than anything. The less I know about what I’m missing, the less the FOMO gets to me and the more contented I am.  The self-doubt is still there, I’m chipping away at that too, but it’s a long standing habit… I do feel that I could never get rid of it entirely, something about it helps me be a better person, I suppose it’s a necessary component of being self aware. Finding the balance is a struggle though. But that’s just another part of the journey.