The fear of missing out as a blind person in a visual world

It’s something I’ve wanted to talk about for a while but it’s a topic which seemed to be dwarfed by all the other things I wanted to share and so it took a back seat.

But like so many other things for me, the fear of missing out is something that can often stem from my vision impairment so I think it has a right to be shared here. 

And so, as this thought peeks out from a secluded corner in my mind somewhere, it initiates this conversation, it’s there, ready and waiting to be discussed.

So here goes.

THE FEAR OF MISSING OUT AS A BLIND PERSON IN A VISUAL WORLD

Did you know that 93% of communication is non verbal? I only found out last year and I guess everyone will have different thoughts about it but when I heard someone say this, it was  a puzzle piece that fit the jigsaw perfectly, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve missed a non-verbal cue, leaving people thinking I’m rude or that I’m ignoring them.

I can’t see someone waving from across the street, I can’t see someone smile when they walk into a room, I can’t see when someone extends their hand waiting for a handshake when I meet them for the first time.

So these stats are slightly worrying for me as a vision impaired person. 

Am I missing out on some vital information because of the way people choose to communicate? Probably but I can’t change the way people choose to interact, if only we had that power.

Everything around us is so visual, from body language to social media content, not forgetting the obvious like the views in these photos and all our daily surroundings. 

But it’s not just the visual aspects of our world which creates the feeling of FOMO for me, it’s the fear of missing out on things and places. Unfortunately for us, not everything in our world is accessible and that often means we might miss out on the things we would love to do. My friend and I almost missed out on meeting Shawn Mendes because of our vision impairments and it still baffles me how our disabilities still act as a barrier that we need to knock down to get the same experiences as everyone else.

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FOMO for me is something I never really find myself talking about, I never let on that I’m disappointed in the fact I can’t see the photos my friends share with each other or the building my family point out in the distance when we’re out and about. I’ve never been able to see the details so I guess I’ve taken everything on the chin, everything’s good – I’ve accepted my disability and so it’s ok that I can’t see these things.

But in reality, the fear of missing out on all the things those around me see, the fear of not being able to include myself in a conversation about a pretty view or a cute dog in a photo, it does have an impact at times, everything seems fine on the surface but in reality I’m frantically treading the water underneath, trying to keep afloat. 

And that’s especially true these days, the depths of the water are far from calm when it comes to things such as employment. 

What if I miss out on my dream role because of the fact that an employer sees my disability as a barrier? 

There are so many unanswered questions that ignites this fear, this worry, this doubt and they’re questions I’ve carried with me for as long as I can remember. 

When I was younger, I let my disability act as a shadow to my being, it was always there casting some darkness on what I thought I could and couldn’t do. Encouraging all kinds of questions, doubts and fears – like a little devil that wouldn’t leave my side. 

I tried my best to push that shadow away but of course, like any other, it would follow me around, making me very aware of my differences. 

I was, and still am, a determined little thing so I tried my best to do the ‘normal’ things others my age would do, I’d still get on the back of my bike even when I was 14 and suffering a major deterioration in my eyesight, a time when I could no longer see the person cycling in front of me, the blur of their florescent jacket turned into something I could no longer follow but I didn’t want that to stop me. 

So I carried on cycling even when my level of sight was becoming less by the day because I didn’t want to miss out on the fun I’d have when going out with my brother and my friends around our local village. 

I can only apologise to all the people I nearly crashed in to. 

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Eventually my friends and I resolved to walking, it was the safer option for everyone after all. 

But missing out on something because of my vision impairment became something I was suddenly very aware of. 

And that shadow still follows me around today, reminding me that I still miss out on even the smallest things. 

I open Snapchat with a small hope that I’ll be able to find out what my friends are up to, only for that hope to fade away when I open someone’s story only to be met with the small chink that VoiceOver lets out when it can’t read what’s on my screen. 

That’s not the biggest issue in the grand scheme of things, I know, but as we live in a world where so many are claiming information through visual content, how do we get that as vision impaired people when accessibility barriers are still dominating our world? 

Then again, I guess this fear has had positive impacts at times; I feared using my cane at one point because of others perceptions but the fear of missing out on my independence and freedom overruled all the other worries and it meant that my cane’s sentence in the box it was imprisoned in was cut short.

Another positive? That spider nestled in the corner where the wall meets the ceiling, I can’t see it so I don’t fear it. Every cloud, eh? 

But this fear of missing out on the things that others truly appreciate still persists and it can take its toll on my relationship with my disability. 

Sometimes it means the positivity slips a little, a bout of loneliness might creep in, there can be cold shoulders and silences and sometimes these feelings cling on for dear life, showing no real sign of letting go.

 It demands attention, with this unyielding resistance that doesn’t let anything soften its hard edges.

Over the years my disability has brought with it so many different feelings, anxiety and loneliness always seemed to take a front seat but every so often, that fear of missing out pushes forward, reminding me that it’s still there. 

It’s there, joining the other feelings in the front seat of the car I can’t even drive, making sure that it’s a feeling I still remember. 

Yes, I remember you. 

A familiar sound that ignites all these other voices which can be hard to tame. 

Well my friend, the joke is on you because despite all these fears you try pressing down on me, I have always ensured that you’ve loosened your grip until you return to being nothing but a background hum, still an existing fear but one that lives dormant in your rightful corner. 

And although you are so often the catalyst to upset and frustration, I do find a way of guiding you back to the corner you peeked out from and I return to co-living with all the other emotions that I’ve learned to bare the weight of. 

Until we meet again. 

Although the fear of missing out still lingers in the back of my mind sometimes, my other senses bring meaning into my world. No matter how blurry it is, there are still new concepts to be explored and what I’ve learned is that you don’t need sight to experience them. 

We all have different perspectives of the world we live in, we all paint a different picture of it. The difference is that some of us can’t see that picture but it doesn’t mean that it can’t be appreciated in other ways. 

There is no right or wrong way to mark out our drawing, there is no right or wrong in the way we perceive it. 

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We create our own foundations when envisaging the world as blind/VI people and whatever way we choose to build on that is unique to us, your way is the right way. 

FOMO can be a shadow sometimes but there are no shadows without light are there? So that means the sun is out and the light is much brighter than the darkness of the shadow. The light is the positivity whilst the small fraction of darkness is the opposite so why let that dictate your being when you can step into the brightness of the light? 

Easier said sometimes, I know, I really do, but the idea is to start developing a meaningful concept and a fresh perspective. 

I now welcome the sound of this fear and all the other feelings and emotions my vision impairment brings to my door because I think it’s important to feel and experience them. Cleansing these emotions with positive attributes of my disability is what helps me to move forward but it doesn’t mean they’re feelings to be ignored.  It’s all a process.

Living with these feelings isn’t always easy, they can bring a sense of vulnerability, they’re quietly pleading to be heard and since they’re adamant of sticking, it’s about learning to co-live with them and encouraging the sound of positivity. 

You only need the sound of one positive voice to break the strength of the others, they’ll still be there but once their echo fades into the distance, you can start playing the melody to your own song whilst the more daunting feelings make do with being the quiet backing. 

Does the fear of missing out exist in your life? Does it ever step closer to the forefront of your mind? I’d like to think that I’m not alone on this and I always find that’s true after writing on here – I find that staying connected to people who are in a similar situation is crucial for remembering that we’re not alone in any of this and, better still, we can encourage each other that we can get through it. No one’s experiences will be identical and whilst these things are not a one-size-fits-all scenario, I feel like we can all relate one aspect of our experiences to others and that’s what helps us to power through.

Elin x

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