The Fear of Missing Out

There’s always talk of FOMO — fear of missing out — these days. We want to stay abreast of current events, but we don’t want to. And when we don’t, we’re afraid that we’re missing out. On events. On information. On being a part of things.

I admit that I’m not impervious to these feelings, especially right now. But this is a different type of FOMO, one that maybe should be classified as something else.

My second youngest brother is a PO3 in the U.S. Navy, and he’s currently stationed in Mayport, Florida. Last year, he was deployed for nearly eight months, but our family got extremely lucky when he came home for Christmas and surprised everyone. That was the last time I saw him, but we’ve chatted a bit since then. I miss him.

My parents, my youngest brother, and my oldest niece are all flying down to Florida early tomorrow morning. I was invited, but had to decline because I simply didn’t have the money to pay for flights and other expenses. That’s okay. It happens. I’ve accepted it.

But here I am — on the day before they even leave — worry about what I’ll be missing by not being able to go. There’s the normal “Florida things” — sunshine, beaches, the ocean. I can live without those things.

What I’m really afraid of is missing out on is time with my brother.

The two of us were very close when he was younger. We went to hockey games together, created paintings together, and bonded over books. He even loved to write stories when he was a pre-teen.

As happens, time went on. We both grew older and pulled away from each other. Politics have always been a divide in our family, and the two of us weren’t impervious to that. I moved away. He graduated high school and worked constantly for a few years. He tried to enlist, but was denied because of his asthma. We’d see each other on holidays and that was it for a while.

The pandemic hit. My brother kept working, as did I. Life got busy for both of us. More time went by. Then in early 2022 as I was fighting through my first bout with Covid, he sent me a text.

Hey, I’m at MEPS in Milwaukee. Can I have your address?

I knew right away that he and his recruiter had found a way to get him into the Navy. I was happy for him, as enlisting was something I was never able to do because of health issues. My brother was finally getting to do what he wanted to do.

A month later, we had a farewell party for him. Four days after that, he left for Naval Station Great Lakes in Illinois. I wrote when I could and was able to attend his PIR a few months later.

It was strange to not see him whenever I’d visit my parents’ house. It still is now, to be honest.

But now, there’s always a thought in the back of my mind.

What if I never see him again?

I believe this is a normal thought for those of us with loved ones in the military, especially now with all of the unrest in the world. My brother could be deployed at any time, and while he’d be on a ship, I still worry. 

And that worry, that thought — those are the things driving my current case of FOMO. 

I know my brother is okay. I know he takes good care of himself. I also know that he could be sent anywhere at any time. I just worry that because I’m missing this visit, he might think I don’t care enough to see him. 

It’s an irrational thought, I know. My parents and niece have promised photos and the like. I hope they all have a wonderful time down there. I’m especially excited for my niece because she’s quite close with my brother. 

But the truth is that I’m missing out, and regardless of how I look at it, I can’t get over the feeling that I should’ve found a way to go visit.