Why My Husband Chose a Weekend with a Broom

Summer. The season of swimsuits, cicadas, and endless “let’s go somewhere.”

Even in the digital world, summer feels like a race with no finish line. Something’s always happening. Often it’s a season of packed schedules, unread emails, and invitations that all sound equally irresistible: “Come!” “You have to be there!” “Everyone’s going!” “It’ll be amazing!”

This weekend, we found ourselves in the middle of so many events that we didn’t know what to skip — we simply couldn’t make it to everything. BBQs, concerts, coffees, trips, sports, gatherings…

And without even realizing it, you start to feel — like you’re missing out. And when you start skipping things because it’s all too much, social media is there to make it look even worse. Everyone’s glowing, happy, healthy, in couples, wearing matching linen sets, sipping cocktails.

And you’re not. It takes mental strength to stop and step back. And to start noticing — yourself.

This time, it was my husband who inspired this article. He needed a weekend alone. He even turned down a mountain trip he would normally love. He said he needed rest. And then messaged me that he also cleaned the apartment.

While I was guiding a group in the mountains, it hit me — maybe peace is the most underrated luxury. And it has many faces. That day, I was recharging my batteries. And so was he. In our own ways. He chose to skip something tempting — and felt no guilt for it.

He helped me see what we now trendily call FOMO. And its opposite: JOMO. It sounds Japanese, but it’s not.

FOMO (Fear of Missing Out)

isn’t just the feeling of skipping an event. It’s a subtle panic that you’re missing — life. And you don’t know where it’s coming from until you realize that every story on social media feeds your insecurity just a little. Every scroll says: “It’s better there than here.” And yes, FOMO wouldn’t be as strong if we weren’t constantly online.

You know how it goes — you open Instagram “just to check a recipe,” and next thing you know, you’re watching someone cycling through Provence, sipping lavender on ice?

Social media creates the illusion that everyone is living better, more beautiful, more organized lives. And we forget — these are moments. Curated. Filtered. Often choreographed.
In reality, while someone posts a picture of the perfect picnic, a fly may have just landed on their burger.

JOMO: The Joy of Missing Out (On Purpose)

And you — wherever your “here” may be — start wondering: “Am I enough? Am I living enough? Am I keeping up enough?”

In this culture of constant connectivity, FOMO is the silent algorithm whispering: “Something better is happening somewhere else. And you’re not a part of it.”

But what you see is: “I’m not living enough.”

That’s why JOMO — the Joy of Missing Out — feels like a quiet revolution. It’s when — in the middle of a hundred invites, messages, and events — you say: “No, thanks. Today I choose – nothing.” And that “nothing” isn’t empty.

For me, it’s a forest. Silence. A barefoot walk.

For my husband, this weekend, it was relaxing at home.
But since he’s a workaholic and super productive, pure lounging didn’t sit well with him.
So, in the process — he cleaned the whole apartment. Quite thoroughly.

Last weekend, we both said “no thanks” to FOMO.
I went to the mountains. I breathed. I laughed.
And felt — at home. My husband? He stayed in.
He said seriously: “I need a weekend for myself. Just peace.”
Inside I thought: Bravo! My zen warrior.
In reality? He vacuumed, scrubbed, even organized my wardrobe.
When I came back, I added some decorations, and the apartment looked like something out of a Pinterest catalog.
And him — proud, refreshed.
He said: “That felt so good. I really needed a mental reset.”
Next time, we’ll switch: he’ll relax with golf or whatever he chooses,
and I’ll hang out with the broom.
And we’ll both feel fulfilled.

This weekend, we both said “yes” — to ourselves.

FOMO teaches us to always look outward.
JOMO brings us back inward.
FOMO clicks. JOMO — breathes.

This summer, you don’t need to prove your existence to anyone.
Just be.
Maybe pick up a broom.
Maybe hug a pine tree.
Or unplug with music and a book.

Find the place where FOMO goes quiet.
And you — grow.