By now, most of us are familiar with the term FOMO. But, for those of you not up to date on the acronyms du jour (although TBH really, WTF, have you been living in a hole?), FOMO stands for Fear of Missing Out. However, while the psychological state of FOMO has existed for as long as humans have been making plans, it has undoubtedly become more relevant, particularly for our age group, since the explosion of social media. The constant use of platforms such as Facebook, Snapchat, and Instagram enhances FOMO by showing you the events you missed out on.

While FOMO is undoubtedly a real and present danger to smartphone-wielding millennials everywhere, I argue that FOBA, or Fear of Being Alone, presents an often overlooked but nonetheless equal danger. From the Siddhartha-inspired, Peyote-induced catharses of the ’60s to the “Eat, Pray, Love”-style ventures of the 2000s, the value of self-reflection has been previously exalted, almost clichéd. Then somehow, amidst the din of social media, the appreciation for solitude and meta-reflection was drowned out. Now, not only do we lack appreciation for alone time, we dread its very possibility.

By now, most of us are familiar with the term FOMO. But, for those of you not up to date on the acronyms du jour (although TBH really, WTF, have you been living in a hole?), FOMO stands for Fear of Missing Out. However, while the psychological state of FOMO has existed for as long as humans have been making plans, it has undoubtedly become more relevant, particularly for our age group, since the explosion of social media. The constant use of platforms such as Facebook, Snapchat, and Instagram enhances FOMO by showing you the events you missed out on.

While FOMO is undoubtedly a real and present danger to smartphone-wielding millennials everywhere, I argue that FOBA, or Fear of Being Alone, presents an often overlooked but nonetheless equal danger. From the Siddhartha-inspired, Peyote-induced catharses of the ‘60s to the “Eat, Pray, Love”-style ventures of the 2000s, the value of self-reflection has been previously exalted, almost clichéd. Then somehow, amidst the din of social media, the appreciation for solitude and meta-reflection was drowned out. Now, not only do we lack appreciation for alone time, we dread its very possibility.

An important way in which college is different from the average high school is that it presents an opportunity for constant companionship. This, like most freedoms, has pros and cons: on the one hand, it enables an atmosphere of community, but on the other hand, it makes personal space and private time rare. For the majority of freshmen, especially those who live in doubles or triples, this deficiency in alone time is a new experience. Even in places when you may feel alone—a study carrel, trekking from the Butts to the CFA—there is rarely, if ever, a time when you are completely physically isolated from other students.

While this change may go unnoticed or be initially welcomed, it can nonetheless lead to a dangerous state of learned helplessness. Learned helplessness is defined on Wikipedia as “a behavior in which an organism is forced to endure aversive, painful or otherwise unpleasant stimuli, becomes unable or unwilling to avoid subsequent encounters with those stimuli, even if they are escapable.” While the constant presence of others may not always seem like an aversive or unpleasant stimulus, veterans have undoubtedly experienced moments of pining for a single, a solo study session in quiet study room, or the ability to use a toilet shared by fewer than 10 other people. And yet, upon the realization that alone time for self-reflection or even napping is a rarity, most people will invariably begin to avoid, and even fear, the solitude they once craved.

The dread that surrounds being alone is evident in everyday rituals that at one time may have been strange, even comical, but are now the norm: People go to the bathroom together, as if bladder synchronization was a precondition for true friendship. Our learned helplessness makes us prisoners of irrationality: maybe you wait in the Usdan lobby, hungry, but are unwilling to eat at a table alone, or maybe you are unable to resist a Saturday night pregame invitation when you haven’t even started Sunday’s essay.

Life is full of making choices and as of now, you can’t be everywhere at once. Believe it or not, 21st century college life has the potential to be more than a perpetual stream of photo-ops and group activities. The “college experience” can also be an education in missing experiences. It is also about learning how to opt out when you need to—about studying in Olin even when the Snapchats from SciLi look oh-so thrilling, and about seeing the girl sitting alone as an active challenger of FOBA rather than a martyr for misanthropy.

If FOMO is reflective of the way our culture privileges proof of attendance over actually being present, FOBA is reflective of our culture’s unfortunate replacement of self-reflection with self-absorption: we have become more concerned about how many friends are present in our mirror selfies than we are about knowing ourselves well enough to make alone time when necessary. Ultimately, fear of being alone may be an unavoidable side effect of the technological era. However, as you adjust or readjust to the college lifestyle, keep in mind that despite the story others’ Snapchats may tell, spending time alone is not a symptom of friendlessness or alienation. Conversely, it is a symbol of confidence and a courageous way to protect yourself from the epidemic of foolish social anxiety.

Emma Solomon is a member of the Class of 2018.