Do you have FOMO?

I’m sure you’ve heard about the modern day curse of FOMO, Fear of Missing Out. Maybe you even have it. In fact, maybe you’d gladly drop it, exhausted as you are. Not so easy, because every upstanding multitasking, adventure seeking, party animal knows FOMO begets FOMO.

Un-fomo-tunately.

If you’ve been keeping up, the acronym speaks to putting too much into any given day, week, month, life.

FOMO has recently morphed into JOMO, Joy of Missing Out, intended to help us seek bliss on the other side of crazy. Still, many of us can’t find happiness in giving up, cutting back, letting go until something blows in the middle of a busy day like the water pump in the car, turning FOMO into FOFO, Fear of Flipping Out.

Which recently happened to me with no foreseeable way back home.

I’ve been looking for a new car for months. But I didn’t expect the old girl to be done with me before I was done with her.

Usually this kind of event would land me in therapy. Yes, I can rent a car — not so cheap — but suddenly I realize I don’t want to. In some strange way, this gives me an excuse to dial back visions of all night rabble- rousing, especially since I can work from home. And if I can, why not. And if why not, what am I waiting for.

Instead of fuming or foaming, I could replace my FOMO with FOCO, Fear of Car Overheating, or better yet, Fear of Cranium Overheating.

The need not to go anywhere suddenly resounds like a calling. Why not stay home and get things done, not take a chance with the old car, wait until a new one can be found. Sit outside, relax, have the time I never have.

So, with hours to spare, I’ve been thinking. Maybe the answer for all of us over-committed souls is to come up with an acronym of our very own. One that builds on the simmering scourge of never having enough, being enough, doing enough — a way of rephrasing the problem so we can get a handle on it.

An acronym we can rock, that fits like a second skin. A tattoo of sorts etched into the brain to repeat whenever the rush of possibility overwhelms the potential of letting good enough be the new perfect.

For example, is it ever joy of missing out? I don’t think so. Joy would imply you’re able to let go of the desire to do it all, which we know feels like taking out our eyeballs.

So I’ve come to SOMO — Sanity of Missing Out. I’m not joyous I can’t float down the Nile