Are You a F.O.O.O. Fighter?
You know that thing where you jangle your keys in front of a baby to distract them if they're crying? (That’s is a thing, right? I feel like that’s a thing. I have no real experience so maybe it's not. Let's pretend it's a thing…)
Well, Facebook did this to me the other day. Except instead of keys, it was books. And instead of distracting a crying baby, it was distracting me from doing actual work.
Someone asked people to post the one book they think everyone should read. And that’s all it took. Keys jangled. My procrastination and I happily scrolled and snootily passed judgment on people's responses to the prompt for the next ten minutes.
There were authors and titles you'd expect: Man's Search for Meaning, Brené Brown, The Little Prince, Kahlil Gibran, To Kill a Mockingbird, various religious texts, 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, etc. And some that made me wish Facebook had a 🤮 react option: Ayn Rand (I SAID WHAT I SAID.)
I couldn’t answer because I needed waaay more parameters. Are we talking fiction, biography, personal development, poetry? (Okay, that last one I can answer. I’m not much of a poetry person but salt. by Nayyirah Waheed** punched my goddamn soul in the throat. Brevity's not my strong suit, so I marvel at all she can say with so few words.)
Also, when in their lives are people reading this book? Are they eight? Thirty-eight? One-hundred-and-eight?
My favorite answer: "An autobiographical memoir authored by someone whose demographic membership departs from your own."
The answer that vexed me even more than Rand: "GWTW"
Not Gone With the Wind, but GWTW.
I had to Google it.
Most of us scroll social media on the toilet our phones and abbreviations and acronyms are now a language unto themselves. But I was still salty over *all the effort* it took to minimize one app, open another, and type in four whole letters. Had I paused for that time, I'm sure I would have realized the meaning... or remembered I was supposed to be working.
The moral of this story is clear to you I'm sure. The world needs more acronyms!
HAAAAA! PLOT TWIST!!!
I growled at my phone, "Spell. The. Feckin'. Words. You. Musty. Meldrop!” (A "meldrop" is the wee little drop-o-snot that clings to the tip of someone's schnozz. Isn’t language beautiful?) Then, I unwadded my undies and decided I should try my hand at being annoying clever too!
Since I'm new to the Abbreviation and Acronym Invention Club (AAIC, pronounced "ache"), I thought I should pay homage to my predecessors. And as Margaret Mitchell wrote in GWTW, "Burdens are for shoulders strong enough to carry them." As I stand on the shoulders of the acronym giants, FOMO and JOMO, I humbly offer you... FOOO!
Unlike that deranged pinecone on Facebook, I’m not here to throw letters around all willy-nilly! I won’t stoop to frankly not giving a damn whose life is marginally inconvenienced by not knowing what the letters stand for. No! I will be the hero we all need. I will tell you what FOOO means!
FOOO, my oh-so-patient friend, stands for the fear of opting out. It's related to FOMO—the fear of missing out—except instead of fearing that you'll miss out on something, it's fearing that something (or someone) will miss out on you.
FOOO is the hollow-eyed worry that if you cease to embody the idea other people hold about who you are, they will "opt-out" of giving a damn about you.
I used to tango with the FOOO whenever I published an article, or sent an email, or made a post on social media. Every. Single. Time.
I’d *dread* the day after sending an email to my subscribers. I had so much FOOO that I'd let the little number under the "unsubscribes” heading dictate how I felt about myself that day. I was seized by the FOOO.
I thought every unsubscribe was a critique of my value. Someone opted out. They slammed the virtual door in my face. They swiped left.
This fear doesn't apply only to bold introverts who run businesses. Sure, the rib-rattling anxiety of losing out on potential clients or customers adds a rich, buttery layer of *ohhh shiiiiit* frosting to the whole shebang, but FOOO is something anyone can experience.
It took time to realize it was more important to say things I thought needed to be said than it was for everybody to like, agree with, or need those things. I had more impact that way. I reached the people I wanted to reach that way. The FOOO started to subside and I started having holy-fuckbucket-loads more of fun.
Soon, unsubscribes started feeling okay—even positive. Aside from being an inevitable part of ✨ existing ✨ on the internet, they meant that people were self-selecting whether they wanted to smell what I was cooking. That makes email list cleanup loooooads easier!
I love to help. I’m really good at helping certain people with certain things (i.e. helping introverts kick more ass). If I can help you, I am here for it. But if I’m not the right person, that’s okay too. If I’m not your preferred flavor of bad mamma jamma, go ahead and tickle the unsubscribe button. Seriously, no hard feelings, my dude. You do you.
The truth is if no one ever unsubscribes from your list—literally or figuratively—you’re not actually saying anything.
That feels like a crowbar to the mandible, right? But it’s true. If no one ever opts out on you, it’s either because the FOOO won out and you couldn’t muster the tits to hit “publish” OR in trying to appeal to everyone, you watered your boldness down so much that no one even noticed you were there.
I hope it’s clear that I’m not saying you need to be loud. Or brash. Or even wear pants. I’m writing bold statements in solitude, alone in my office. (The absence or presence of pantaloons shall remain undisclosed.)
I’m saying that to fill your life to the edges, you need to be boldly, unapologetically you.
The exercise of accepting tomorrow’s inevitable bump in unsubscribes reminds me that not being everyone's cup of tea is kinda my thing. Bold Introvert—the coaching, the emails, the blogs, the products—none of it was ever meant to be for the masses. It was *always* intended for the square pegs.
So when the fear of opting out creeps in, what do we do?
We. Fight. The. FOOO.
We’re going to talk more about how to do that next time. We’ll even learn a few tips from the master himself! Stay tuned for part two!
**
my whole life
i have
ate my tongue.
ate my tongue.
ate my tongue.
i am so full of my tongue you would think speaking is easy.
but it is not.
– for we who keep our lives in our mouths
Nayyirah Waheed, salt.