We think the fear of missing out only occurs when we’re looking at things we haven’t tried yet. But I think the most dangerous kind of FOMO happens when we look backward—the panic that tells us we’re about to lose out on something that could get better if we don’t turn around right now to catch, fix, or recreate it.
I sat with my breakfast this morning, reflecting heavily on a connection I recently closed the door on. I logically understood that this wasn’t a bad person; they just weren’t the right fit for the position they held in my life. But knowing that didn’t stop the innate urge to go back and try again anyway.
I convince myself that if I apply more pressure, more effort, or more explanation to certain situations, I can find the outcome or closure I’m looking for—that things would go better if I just tried harder. But as someone who is not just analytical, but also strongly intuitive, that’s exactly where I get stuck: the gap between knowing something isn’t right for me and not having enough physical evidence to match what I already feel.
I’d get indecisive with partners, friends, and family, because the love and care between us would be real, but so was the sense that I felt unknown, unheard, unfulfilled, and sometimes dismissed. I couldn’t tell if I was just bad at relationships, or if these just weren’t the relationships for me.
But let’s be completely honest with ourselves; in my own life, and in my work with clients, I see this same cycle repeat constantly. We drag ourselves through seasons of frustration, complaining about feeling stuck and confused. But that stagnation doesn’t fully come about by accident. Sometimes it’s just the result of ignoring the wisdom we already paid for in tears and experience. We choose to return, we choose to repeat, and we choose to stay stuck because we’re too afraid of missing out on what something could give us, rather than what it’s continuing to cost us.
So this morning, sitting with that, I asked spirit the real questions. Am I missing this person, or am I missing what their presence provided me? Is it possible things could work out if I actually tried again with more effort? What was the real issue in the first place, and was I even perceiving things correctly? And what is going on with me right now that all of this is surfacing at once??
The Ten of Pentacles came through, pointing to long-term abundance and stability still present in the connection’s potential. The King of Wands named the blockage as leadership and drive, looking back at something shiny instead of building forward. And The Chariot answered my question directly: a dichotomous card of a charioteer holding two opposing forces and choosing to steer rather than be dragged.
This spread showed me that the potential was never really the question here. The real question was whether that’s even the kind of future I want to build. Because what immediately came to mind was how there’s a difference—in my perspective of the tarot cards— between a Ten of Pentacles connection and a Ten of Cups one. The first can offer everything you think you desire: evidential wealth and stability, a secure foundation that you can see and hold.
But what if you’re yearning to feel fulfilled and not just look like you are? To feel recharged at family reunions instead of drained. To look forward to another day at work instead of dragging yourself through it. To have a partner who deeply moves you and is genuinely aligned with how you desire to live and be treated—not just someone who can cook, clean, and pay the bills.
The point is that the Ten of Cups is the kind of fulfillment that maybe isn’t always seen, but it is always felt. It’s long-lasting joy, peace, and emotional alignment, and in retrospect, I can see how I’ve been trading my Ten of Cups for a Ten of Pentacles that never feels like it’s enough.
As a Virgo rising, my brain loves a practical blueprint. I’m wired to look for order, obsess over minor details, and organize a tangible plan for the future. Combine that with my Libra moon sitting in the second house of finances and security, and it translates into a subconscious lack that drives me toward material safety. When financial resources are scarce, my ego convinces me that emotional peace can be bought, or at least anchored, by a partner who represents a solid foundation. Hence why I’m always picking partners who provide but might not fulfill.
But astrology always exposes the truth of what we need versus what we settle for. My seventh house of partnership is in Pisces—the sign of boundless, spiritual, and unconditional love. My Venus and Mars are both in Cancer, nestled in my tenth house of public destiny. I am literally built to desire a love that is deeply feeling, fiercely protective, and radically tender. Someone who values quiet domestic peace, nurtures my vulnerability, and shares my dream of a soulful bond rather than just material or social success.
My soul doesn't just want a business merger; it wants a sanctuary, especially as current Saturn and Neptune retrogrades in my seventh and eighth houses push me to build my own financial stability first. And you could ask anyone in my life; it’s not that I go around only dating people with money. It’s just interesting how my chart reflects this exact tug-of-war of using romance to solve a financial anxiety, only to realize it never touched the deeper spiritual or emotional hunger underneath it.
One thing I realize is that this habit of letting FOMO drag me backward is a pattern that has to be disrupted. Maybe my constant pivot away from connections like that isn’t avoidance or lack of effort at all. Maybe it’s faith. Faith that what I truly desire and require can still be found. Maybe my intuition simply gets louder than my ego, turning my head back forward every time I try to regress.
FOMO can trick you into thinking you're about to lose something, when really, it might just be proof that you're moving forward. Chasing the fear of missing out keeps you circling backward, trying to recreate or hold onto something that’s already served its purpose. And isn't it ironic how that exact cycle is often what causes us to miss the very opportunities that were actually meant for us?
Because I do believe in destiny, and I do believe that you can miss out on what’s meant for you if you keep making choices that take you off that path. It’s always easier to catch in retrospect though, so the next time FOMO shows up, I’ll be asking a different question. Instead of “What am I about to lose?” I want to know: “What am I in the middle of becoming?”
Growth is uncomfortable by nature. But that discomfort isn’t always a warning sign. Sometimes, it’s just what moving forward feels like before it becomes your new norm—before you finally reach your highest potential.
Great read! I definitely have a few questions to consider now