“FOMO,” an acronym that stands for “Fear of Missing Out.”
“JOMO,” which stands for, “Joy of Missing Out,” is a fulfilling experience. The reward of JOMO is the feeling of purpose you earn by behaving in a way that’s true to yourself. It’s the same feeling of fulfillment you feel when you behave with integrity.
JOMO comes with a price, of course: you’ll need to miss out and develop the courage to commit to that.
Here are some questions worth asking:
Do I actually want the thing? Or do I just want to keep up?
Do I want to avoid not having the thing just because I want to keep up?
Can I “win” by keeping up, or am I trying to “win” by going further? Is this achievable?
Can I be the one people keep up with? What will it cost me to keep up?
Will the reward of keeping up be worth the effort, time, and money?
Many of my friends are starting to have children, so that’s the main example that comes to mind. My partner and I are still deciding; however if we decide to sit it out, we will both need to accept the cost that comes with sitting out. We will miss out on the parenting experience, as well as a chance to get to watch children grow up. The friends that choose to have children will inevitably drift much closer together and away from us.
Funny enough, this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve missed out on something. Here are a couple of “important” things I have missed out on:
The 2010s Toronto condo boom: Many of my friends bought condos in Toronto during the 2010s, as prices were increasing year after year. Some made a tidy profit from it. At the time, I was working independently and didn’t want to overextend myself, and I didn’t feel as much conviction that the prices were going to keep going up. I didn’t doubt it, I just didn’t accept the reasoning of, “It’s gone up every year!” I feel glad I questioned the assumption, now that we are in the so-called Toronto condo recession of the 2020s, but I had no idea it was going to happen.
If I committed to a condo and a mortgage, I would need to take less risk with my career and personal life. I took a year off to write Creative Doing. I ended up moving to Hong Kong and New York City in the early 2020s. I’m sure I could’ve sold my condo or rented it out, but that commitment would’ve created a greater sense of inertia. Maybe I wouldn’t have written or moved at all.
Instead of investing in a condo, I invested my cash in stocks and ETFs. However, I’m not able to feel the pride of saying, “I’m a homeowner.” I thought, for sure, I’d feel inferior to my friends, but this hasn’t been the case; maybe because now that I’m in a position to buy, I intentionally choose not to.
My friends started a business together: In the mid-2010s, my friends started a company and I was invited to join. My plate was very full at the time, and the company wasn’t able to afford my rates, so I declined, though I pitched in efforts as a friend would.
For my friends, this company was their primary focus, work inevitably came up during the time we all spent together. Because I wasn’t a part of the company, I couldn’t really contribute. They shared inside jokes that I had no idea about. They also shared personal life updates in the company Slack, which I didn’t have access to. Friendships come in seasons, and this was the company’s season, which I wasn’t a part of. Even though it was my decision, I felt completely iced out, and it was very painful. I handled this as gracefully as I could.
As I reflected, I realized that monetary compensation and stock equity—the professional rewards—were just a part of the experience. Getting to know each other better as people was another part of this. I wasn’t comfortable with the business terms being offered, though, so I needed to miss out. A few years later, the company was acquired, and everyone moved on to the next part of their careers. It felt natural to drift together and be friends again as each of us explored what was next. In the meantime, since I moved, I also made new friends.
There’s a lot more I could write about here, like declining an opportunity to interview at Shopify in the 2010s, missing out on the 2010s crypto run, etc.
What I choose to take away is that while missing out felt painful, it was very recoverable, and those tradeoffs also provided me with the fertile ground I needed to do what I’m doing today. I got to live in three different countries. I wrote Creative Doing, I’m about to publish The Consistency Journal, and I continue to work independently with tech companies on business writing.
The courage to miss out could also be rephrased as, “The courage to commit.” There’s no life without missing out.