FOMO stands for “fear of missing out” in case you were wondering.
I’ve written a lot about Covid recently. I’m sorry if you’re tired of it. So am I, actually, but I find myself compelled to discuss it further because many lessons still have not been learned.
One of those lessons is that FOMO (fear of missing out) is a genuine liability.
Not too long ago, I saw the following message in various degrees everywhere I turned:
He was talking about me and thousands more like me. Little people like Mr. Little wanted to crush my resistance and break my spirit in order to force my compliance. If the message above doesn’t bother you, not even the littlest, tiny bit…well, I’m concerned for you. But I think most everyone who follows me here is not like that man, even those of you who are quite pro-Covid vaccine. That’s what I’d prefer to think, anyway. I don’t want to believe anyone here is that cruel, and frankly, psychopathically evil.
It was hard in those days to keep my spirits up. I was not allowed to leave the country back then. I was not allowed to go to concerts. The Biden administration even floated the possibility that maybe it was time to limit who could travel on domestic airplanes. I wondered if I’d ever be able to see my family again. I often wondered what would happen if I needed to look for employment in the future. It was beginning to look as thought people like Mr. Little were going to win the day.
I had no idea if I would be reduced to the “untouchable caste” in my own country for the rest of my life or not. I really believed it could go either way. That one trip to London and Paris I took years earlier would have to live in my memory. Memories of my brother’s wedding in the Philippines would have to do because I was probably never coming back.
But I didn’t budge. Why? First of all, I believed the vaccine would be a poor decision for me given my delicate health situation. Several of my doctor’s patients had had a complete relapse into full-blown Lyme symptoms after taking one dose. I had just spent years of my life crawling out of the deep hole Lyme disease had put me in, and I sure as heck wasn’t going to go hurtling back down there again no matter what. Second, the coercion a la Mr. Little and Co. steeled my resolve. If I just gave in to make my life easier, I would be helping enslave all my fellow Americans whether they realized it or not. I believed, and still believe, that people must be free to say yay or nay to health interventions. Because when there is risk, there must be choice. Period.
“But why,” you ask, “didn’t you just get a medical exemption?”
Because no one should have to do that! Medical decisions are between a patient and doctor. It’s no one else’s business. I was not going to assist that line in the sand getting crossed any further. I also refused to present negative Covid tests in order to participate in any activity. I was not going to be responsible for the bureaucratic creep into our daily lives.
Not to attend a concert.
Not to travel.
I’m stubborn like that.
So, I just shrugged my shoulders at all the lost opportunities and spent my time enjoying my life and not being nearly as miserable as Mr. Little would have liked. I got Covid and recovered in about 10 days with my only lasting symptom (taste and smell weirdness) disappearing a few months later. I focused on my health. I lost a much-needed twenty pounds. I made an exciting health discovery that all but obliterated some miserable symptoms I’d been experiencing for years. I began writing again. I learned how to bake gluten free stuff so well, people who don’t even have to be gluten free love my pies, pancakes, biscuits, cookies and cakes. I got better at sewing. I took in a stray dog with behavioral issues and heart worm and now he is my Bob and keeps my Argos company. My life got better. So much better, actually, it might make Mr. Little cry. Maybe I should reach out…
I could have been miserable. I could have easily fallen into self-pity and depression over all the things these awful people wanted to make sure I could never do. I want to visit Italy someday. My great grandparents immigrated here from Sicily, and I’ve longed to see where I came from ever since I was a kid. But now I wasn’t going to be able to go. Maybe never. So, how did I cope?
The answer is quite simple.
Heaven.
It exists. I’m going there when I die. And nothing in all this beautiful world will compare to the beauty I’ll find there where my Father reigns supreme, and no evil thing is permitted. The music I’ll hear and the music I’ll sing will make Beethoven’s Ninth seem like a bar room ditty complete with bouncing ball. Heaven is vast for it is God’s home, and God Himself is infinite. I will walk for miles and never get tired and never reach the end and never come to harm when I get lost because I’ll find my way back with the light that emanates directly from Him. Not even the Sistine Chapel could rival the things I’ll see, for God is the grandest architect. The world’s brightest merely discover what He creates.
In short, I have everything already. There is nothing I could possibly miss.
Jonathon Edwards, speaking of the child of God, said it best,
Our bad things turn out for our good. Our good things can never be lost. And the best things are yet to come.
There is nothing the Mr. Littles of the world can do to me. They can take away my movement, my house, my means of income… What’s the worst that could happen? That I die and go where I want to go anyway?
I have no fear of missing out. I am free.
So, that’s where my head was at. For sure, I had to remind myself of the truth often enough. But that’s the thing…it really was the truth. Contrary to lies like, “If you get the vaccine you can’t get Covid.”
And then, suddenly…all the exclusions and restrictions fell like dominos because people like me wouldn’t cooperate. Because I couldn’t be coerced…or carotted and sticked…or good copped, bad copped.
Guess what? I’m going to go to Italy next month!
Oh, wait. No, I can’t. ‘Cause now I don’t have any money. Inflation and all…
Oh, well. It don’t matter.
That’s all for now! Leave a comment! Share with a friend! Until next time, folks…
What the Mr Littles of the world don't understand is that there was no amount of misery or exclusions that could possibly have coerced many of us into allowing that unholy poison into our bodies. I wasn't just prepared to lose my career, my job, my income and health insurance. I could have been threatened with prison or had a gun put to my head. It wouldn't have changed my mind. And for anyone paying attention to what is happening to some of those who took the shots, the harms and deaths are unimaginable Not only were the collective Mr Smiths horribly cruel and ignorant, they allowed fear to betray their humanity and now either live in complete denial or are filled with a silent uncomfortable dread. No matter what happens here on our earthly plane, this little sphere in our corner of the universe, I will NEVER regret refusing the jab.
You jabbed Mr. Little back standing up for your right.