FOMO or JOMO? The choice is yours….
Written by Beck Horne, Tribe Leader
It’s Thursday already. I’m looking down the barrel of a weekend packed from Friday night to Sunday afternoon. Not a minute to spare. Not a sofa to languish on idly on a Saturday afternoon. Why does this happen to me on an ever increasing basis?
Because a pinch of it happens to be an inability to say no. And a good old fashioned measure is complete, unabashed FOMO (Fear of Missing Out). FOMO that my kids might miss out coupled with my inability to say no when friends suggest a casual catch up for brunch or Sunday afternoon drinks.
In theory these sound like the perfect ingredients for a weekend – watching the kids play sport on Saturday and some socialising with friends Sunday. However the quantity of activity is what undoes me. Three kids times three venues for Saturday sport. Often two birthday parties in the afternoon. Then Sunday breakfast with friends and a barbeque at home with more mates.
Don’t get me wrong. I love a social gathering as much as the next gal. Though when it gets to the point where I have exactly 18 minutes between brunch ending and the next lot of guests arriving for lunch and I haven’t shopped for barbeque supplies, that’s when I just want a whole lot of JOMO.
If you haven’t heard of JOMO, it quite simply is a beautiful acronym. The Joy of Missing Out. How I crave a weekend that looks like an artist’s blank canvas. Beautiful, crisp, uncrowded, nothingness.
I have fantasies of weekends with no commitments. They go something like this… pizza on Friday night with my family, followed by a DVD and chocolate. Saturday morning piling in the car with the kids and heading to the beach for breakfast. Reading in the hammock Saturday afternoon and dozing off to the sound of a distant lawnmower. The smell of freshly cut grass evoking lazy afternoons of my childhood, when blank canvas Saturdays were a weekly occurrence.
On Sunday my JOMO-ness would be complete with a cup of tea in bed. The five of us would then have a full English breakfast and spend the day in the garden. A lamb roast in the evening followed by a hot bath. Sliding into a bed of fresh sheets and I would be the happiest girl alive.
Why is it that my perfect weekend full of nothing but simple pleasures feels so utterly unattainable? Because I have chosen FOMO over JOMO. Up until now it was a largely unconscious decision. Now I have acknowledged the reality of my choices, that clarity has given me power. The power to choose a whole lot of nothing.