Fear of Missing Out on the Road Not Taken

The Road Not Taken’ by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both 
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;  

Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,  

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black. 

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back. 

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence 

Two roads diverged in a wood and I—

I took the one less travelled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Despite being written in 1916, this poem perfectly summarises the common modern phenomenon affectionately known as ‘Fear of Missing Out’, or FoMO.

A man faces a dilemma when coming across a fork in the road. He can’t choose which path, but he knows that whichever path he takes, he will look back with a sigh.

Oh, Robert Frost, how do you understand my life so well?

People of the world are faced with a multitude of decisions every single day. They may be small, such buying milk:

“Low Fat, no fat, full cream, high calcium, high protein, soy, light, skim, omega 3, high calcium with vitamin D and folate, or extra dollop?”

Er, I just want milk that tastes like real milk?

Or, perhaps they are big life decisions, such as what you want to do with your life.

The problem with making decisions is that we are often dissatisfied, and constantly wonder if that OTHER choice was perhaps better. This is the paradox of choice, which frequently results in anxiety, and a fear of missing out.

As a vegetarian, my usual options at restaurants are fairly limited. A good restaurant might have up to five dishes I could eat, and yet I still struggle to choose.

So you can probably imagine what happens when I visit vegetarian restaurants.

Holy sweet mother of Mary, WHAT IS THIS?!  How am I supposed to decide what to eat from the 30-plus options given to me?!

In his book, ‘The Paradox of Choice’, Barry Schwartz discusses this very problem, and finds that when given more options, we are more likely to feel regretful about our choices. We feel like we have missed an opportunity.

And unfortunately, the problem is only getting worse through the rise of social media. We are constantly exposed to the photos and activities of other people. Worst of all, these are never mundane activities. Who would take pictures of themselves brushing their teeth, doing the dishes, walking to the train station? (Actually? Some people.) 

Imagine this sort of status update:

‘Just got home from work. Going to make some dinner soon, probably watch some television (nothing in particular, I’ll just flick through the channels) and go to bed at about 10 or 10.30. Then I’ll get up tomorrow, get dressed, eat something (maybe Weetbix?) and go to work again, where I will read emails, answer calls, and finish some tasks. I might each lunch with people where I will talk about my weekend plans, or maybe I’ll eat lunch alone. WOOOOO!’

Our social media personalities are not our true selves. They are the best, most exciting versions of ourselves.

So when we are bombarded by these kinds of personalities, it’s hard not to feel like your life doesn’t make the cut. Your life will inevitably feel mundane when you’re constantly exposed to the best bits of everyone else’s.

So in a world where our choices are only increasing, from the clothing we wear, to the variety of food available to us, and of course our careers, how can we be satisfied?

Maybe we can’t be. Maybe we are all destined for a life of “what if?”.

What if I had studied creative writing? Or medicine? Or architecture?

What if I had gone on that trip?

What if I had stopped the car to help that poor little hedgehog-looking-creature in the middle of the road?

What if I had done honours?

These are all real thoughts that plague my mind when I give them a chance. And the worst part is that we are told on our death beds we will not regret the things we did, but rather the things we didn't do.

Gee, thanks. That makes me feel better.

Perhaps the best solution is to recognise that, no, we can’t actually do anything we want. But that’s okay, and all we can do is appreciate the life we do have. Because each of our lives are amazing and unique.

“There was another life that I might have had, but I am having this one.” - Kazuo Ishiguro

the reckless philosopher