I’ve always thought my fear of missing out was a quirky flaw…until I realized it had once saved my life.

Over the years, I’ve considered adding a third element to my story formula: fear. Clearly, fear can be categorized in the struggle side of the formula, but it could help to identify it specifically as an essential story element.

In any transformational story, fear is the dragon that must be faced. It’s the shadow in the cave. Without it, there’s no call for courage, no chance for the protagonist to emerge changed.

I’ve recently reviewed the stories I’ve shared so far in The Wisdom Wayfinder. Fear has been a central obstacle in each of them.

Fear was at play as I struggled to write last week’s edition.

Fear is THE crucial obstacle to overcome in any story that impacts the protagonist’s identity. Think back on your favorite stories. In them, the hero or heroine had to call upon courage, community, or compassion to transcend fear and win the day.

One form of fear comes up in more comic contexts than dramatic ones: fear of missing out (FOMO). I remember the first time I heard that acronym used, I thought it was made for me. 

Looking back on my life, FOMO may have been the mainspring of my motivational makeup. It factored into my decisions about everything from college to getting married! Each episode I have thought of to illustrate my point could become material for a future Wayfinder story.

There’s one episode in which FOMO played a remarkably redemptive role in my life.

I remember lying awake in my cramped campus apartment, staring at the ceiling, my chest tight with the thought that I could make it all stop. I was failing at things that mattered to me. I was wrestling with a truth about myself I wasn’t ready to speak aloud. And the future felt like a blank, dark wall.

But then a thought slipped in, uninvited: What if something extraordinary happens tomorrow, and I’m not here to see it? That single question cracked the darkness. What if the best parts of my story hadn’t happened yet?

I found support from a school advisor, a wise old friend, and several others. Each of them used a similar strategy: they urged me to consider what I might miss if I ended my life prematurely. 

Staying meant I got to see the sunrise over Haleakalā, circumnavigate the globe, laugh until my sides hurt with friends who feel like family, and hold my grandnieces. It meant I got to learn, love, and keep becoming.

FOMO may be a punchline in most conversations. But for me, it was the spark that kept me here for the best chapters of my life.

Shine,