Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: self-discovery

  • The Joy of Missing Out (And Why You Might Love It Too)

    The Joy of Missing Out (And Why You Might Love It Too)

    missing-out –>The Joy of Missing Out (And Why You Might Love It Too)

    From FOMO to “Namaste in My Pajamas“

    Remember that time everyone went to that thing and posted about it endlessly on social media? Yeah, I stayed home. In my pajamas. With a cup of tea and a good book. And you know what? It was glorious.

    For years, I was the queen of FOMO. Fear of Missing Out ruled my life. If everyone was doing it, I had to be there. Concert on a Tuesday? Present! Three-hour brunch with questionable eggs benedict? Count me in! This led to a lot of late nights, questionable life choices, and a constant feeling of being utterly exhausted.

    time was my own, and I could choose to spend it however I pleased.

    Embracing My Inner Homebody (Without Apology)

    Since then, I’ve been on a mission to embrace JOMO, and let me tell you, it’s been life-changing. Here are a few unexpected benefits I’ve experienced:

    • Decreased anxiety and stress: No more frantic rushing, last-minute outfit changes, or social exhaustion. JOMO means saying “yes” to peace and quiet.
    • Increased productivity and creativity: Remember all that time I wasted feeling jealous of other people’s curated lives? I now channel that energy into pursuing my own passions and hobbies.
    • Deeper connections with loved ones: Instead of shallow interactions at crowded events, I now prioritize quality time with people I genuinely care about.
  • The Day My Inner Voice Started Speaking in a British Accent

    The Day My Inner Voice Started Speaking in a British Accent



    We all have that inner voice, right? That little narrator in our heads who comments on our life choices, reminds us to pick up milk, and occasionally launches into a dramatic monologue about a squirrel it saw that one time. Mine usually sounds a lot like me, just slightly more sarcastic. But then, one Tuesday morning, everything changed.

    The Crumpet Incident: When My Brain Went British

    Picture this: I’m standing in my pajamas, bleary-eyed and attempting to make coffee, when my brain decides to pipe up. “I say, wouldn’t a spot of tea be rather lovely this morning?” Now, I’m a coffee person, through and through. I blame it on my American heritage and an unhealthy reliance on caffeine. But this voice… this voice was different. It was smoother than melted caramel, crisp as a freshly starched shirt collar. It was, dare I say, a bit… British?

    I nearly dropped my coffee mug (okay, travel mug – let’s be real). “Did… did my brain just offer me tea? In a British accent?” I muttered to myself, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about my mismatched socks.

  • The Day My Inner Voice Started Speaking in a British Accent

    The Day My Inner Voice Started Speaking in a British Accent

    The Day My Inner Voice Became British: A Hilarious Transformation

    From Midwest Monotone to Proper Pronunciation

    Let’s be honest, my inner voice was never anything to write home about. It was a practical, Midwestern monotone – think Garrison Keillor reading a grocery list. It got the job done but lacked a certain je ne sais quoi. Then, one Tuesday morning, everything changed. I woke up, stumbled to the coffee maker, and thought, “Right then, time to get this show on the road.”

    inner voice had gone from “ope, let me just squeeze past ya” to a posh, vaguely aristocratic accent that could charm a crumpet off the Queen.

    Living with My New British Inner Voice: A Comedy of Errors

    At first, it was utterly delightful. Mundane tasks like folding laundry became infinitely more entertaining with my internal Hugh Grant providing commentary. Grocery shopping? A chance to internally debate the merits of various cheeses with the eloquence of Stephen Fry. I even started saying “cheerio” instead of “goodbye,” much to the amusement of my friends and family.

    There were, however, some adjustments to be made. For instance, my new inner voice had zero tolerance for my usual procrastination tactics. “Darling, are you really going to scroll through social media again? One simply must prioritize,” it would chide, dripping with disdain for my lack of productivity.

  • The Day My Inner Voice Started Talking in a British Accent

    The Day My Inner Voice Started Talking in a British Accent




    The Day My Inner Voice Started Talking in a British Accent


    From Ohio to Oxford (in My Head, at Least)

    Let me tell you, life throws curveballs. Sometimes they’re literal, like the time I tried to join a softball league and ended up with a black eye. (Don’t ask.) This time, however, the curveball was purely auditory, and it took up residence inside my own head. You see, I, a perfectly normal girl from Ohio, woke up one morning with a British accent. In my head, of course. Outwardly, I still sounded like the Midwestern girl next door. But on the inside? Pure London, darling.

    I remember it vividly. I was making coffee, contemplating the mysteries of a perfectly toasted bagel, when my inner voice piped up, clear as day, with a crisp, “I say, wouldn’t a spot of tea be delightful this morning?”

    British Accent

    At first, it was disorienting, like someone had swapped out my internal monologue with a BBC radio drama. Grocery shopping became a comedy of errors.

    “Right, then,” my inner voice would say, “let’s see about procuring some biscuits.”

    Of course, I’d then wander the aisles for a good ten minutes, utterly bewildered, until I remembered that “biscuits” meant “cookies” in this new internal lexicon.

    Then there was the vocabulary shift. Words like “rubbish” and “brilliant” began peppering my thoughts. I started saying “cheerio” instead of “goodbye,” much to the amusement of my friends.

    “Did you study abroad in England and forget to tell us?” my friend Sarah asked, stifling a laugh.

    “I wish!” I thought, before catching myself. “I mean, no, this is all very new and strange.”

    Embracing My Inner Brit (and the Perks That Came With It)

    Over time, I’ve grown accustomed to my new internal flatmate. It’s like having a permanent, slightly posh commentator narrating my life. And I must admit, there are perks.

    • Confidence Boost: There’s something about that clipped British accent that just screams sophistication. My inner critic, once a nagging shrew, now sounds like a witty observer, offering constructive criticism with a side of dry humor.
    • Entertainment Factor: Mundane tasks are instantly more amusing. Folding laundry becomes a regal affair. Walking the dog is a countryside stroll. You get the picture.
    • Vocabulary Expansion: Okay, maybe I haven’t quite reached Shakespearean levels, but my vocabulary has definitely expanded beyond “like” and “totally.” (Although, I do miss those words sometimes. They were just so…easy.)
  • The Day My Inner Voice Became My Outer Voice (and Why I Don’t Regret It)

    The Day My Inner Voice Became My Outer Voice (and Why I Don’t Regret It)




    The Day My Inner Voice Became My Outer Voice (and Why I Don’t Regret It)

    The Infamous Grocery Store Incident

    Picture this: me, standing in the frozen food aisle, desperately searching for the elusive veggie burgers. I’m talking about the kind that actually have some semblance of flavor, not those cardboard imposters. Suddenly, a wild Karen appears, pushing her overflowing cart with the grace of a rhinoceros on roller skates. She rams me into the freezer door with a grunt and then, without a word, starts pilfering the last of the (you guessed it) good veggie burgers.

    Now, my inner voice, let’s call her Sasha Fierce, was LIVID. “Excuse me?!” Sasha boomed, “You just assaulted me for a veggie burger! And not even the good kind, I might add!”

    For years, Sasha had been relegated to the sidelines, offering her colorful commentary solely within the confines of my skull. But something about Karen’s audacity, her blatant disregard for frozen food etiquette, flipped a switch. And for the first time ever, Sasha Fierce became my outer voice.

    Voice (and Unexpected High Fives)

    Let me tell you, watching Karen’s face morph from entitled indignation to wide-eyed shock was almost worth the near-death experience by freezer burn. Did I handle the situation perfectly? Absolutely not. Was my outburst a tad dramatic? Probably. But you know what? It felt damn good.

    And the unexpected bonus? Other shoppers, who had clearly fallen victim to Karen’s reign of grocery-getting terror, looked at me with a newfound respect. One brave soul even offered me a high five! It was then I realized that sometimes, the things we’re most afraid to say are the things others are dying to hear.

    Embracing Authenticity: How to Channel Your Inner Sasha Fierce

    Don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating for a world where everyone runs around unleashing their unfiltered thoughts like toddlers on a sugar rush. There’s a time and a place for everything, and tact is still a valuable social currency.

    But since that fateful day in the frozen food aisle, I’ve made a conscious effort to bridge the gap between my inner and outer voice. I’ve learned to:

    • Speak up for myself: No more shrinking violet routine when someone disrespects my time, opinions, or personal space.
    • Embrace authenticity: Life’s too short to pretend to be someone I’m not, even if it makes others uncomfortable. (Sorry not sorry, I will never understand the appeal of Crocs.)
    • Use humor as my weapon of choice: Because honestly, who doesn’t love a well-placed witty retort? (Unless it’s directed at them, then maybe not so much.)