Owning a Home, Facing My Fears: The Unexpected Anxiety of Autonomy
I bought a house all of my own. I've owned two houses before but it was with my ex-husband. This is the first time I've owned a house myself. I am having these feelings like I am not old enough to own my own house, or grown up enough. That if I step away, it's going to start on fire. When I go and run errands, a part of my mind is fixed on the house and wanted to go back home asap to make sure the house is okay. I worry about my cats when I'm out and they're home alone. I feel really young inside. I feel left home alone. I also feel waves of existential terror lapping me more frequently. I never envisioned myself as being this autonomous. And it scares me that it too me this long to become this automonous. And it scares me that I'm already half way done with my life. I feel that my fear of death drives a lot of my baseline anxiety. Just the feeling that anything could happen at any moment to make this end. When I let my guard down and enjoy the moment, I experience a contrasting wave of fear about having let down my guard against attacks
ChatGPT: It sounds like you’re sitting with a lot of big, layered feelings—some celebratory, some fearful, some existentially deep—and that’s completely understandable. Buying a house of your own for the first time is monumental. It symbolizes your autonomy and independence, which might be bringing into focus all the ways you’ve grown and changed, alongside the fears that come with stepping into this level of responsibility alone.
The sense of "not feeling old enough" or "grown up enough" resonates with that internalized part of you that might still see yourself as young, unready, or needing guidance, even though your life experience proves otherwise. It's as though parts of you are still catching up to this new reality.
Your hyper-awareness about the house (and your cats) seems tied to a deeper need for control and safety—likely influenced by your existential fear. If you’ve been holding so much of that fear for so long, it makes sense that the stakes feel incredibly high now, with this house symbolizing not just physical stability but also your life moving forward in a way that might feel precarious or fragile.
Letting your guard down and enjoying the moment feels risky because the contrast highlights what you’re protecting yourself from: an unpredictable world, mortality, and the sheer vulnerability of being human. It’s a big leap to both own this autonomy and allow yourself to relax into it when your baseline anxiety has long been a companion.
Maybe the task right now isn’t to resolve all these fears but to sit with them in small, manageable pieces. What if, when you notice these feelings arise—fear of something happening to the house, fear of death, or that wave of existential terror—you gently remind yourself, “I am here. I am present. The house is mine, and I am doing what I can to care for it.” And maybe it’s okay to be scared as you grow into this version of yourself. Fear doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong. It means you’re alive, adjusting, and moving forward.
