I used to be terrified that I was MISSING OUT.
That wherever I happened to be was not where the cool shit was happening. Because of the FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out), I would stay up late every night, go to every party to which I had an invite, drink copious amounts of whiskey, and be in a state of frenzy most of the time. Especially during something like SXSW… which is going down like the Titanic in the ever-growing town in which I live. Last year, while 3 months pregnant with our second son, I played 15-ish shows during SXSW. In the car on the way to the final show of the week, I burst into tears from exhaustion. Yes, I’m aware I was playing music and not working in the fields, but it was a ton of energy output nonetheless. I went to other people’s shows and could barely hold the weight of my own body, let alone a growing fetus and an electric guitar. I had the FOMO really badly. I was a pinball. I didn’t really have any fun. It was like a FOMO vaccine. No matter how cool the party, if you feel like a piece of garbage a train ran over, the party sucks.
This year, I turned down every gig offered to me. It felt great. The words “No thank you” tasted like the sweetest chocolate cake. This morning I went to the park with my kiddos. We went to the grocery store. The best part is, I am not worried about what I am missing. I have enough on my plate that there isn’t room for the FOMO. After a day of parenting, I am not hungry for anyone’s drama. I don’t need to catch an Uber, go down to the heart of beast, see 10 mediocre bands in 10 shitty bars, and have a Los Angelean socialite throw up on me. I can get thrown up on at home, without a platinum badge, thank you very much.
Maybe it’s because I’m 3 years into my thirties. Maybe it’s because my clothes still don’t fit my post partum body. Maybe it’s because the baby is still exclusively breast-fed and the shows are LOUD. Maybe it’s because I’m finally happy with who I am, where I am.
Whatever the reason, I dub this year NO MO FOMO.