Why Buying a Couch Triggered a Full Existential Crisis

My heart raced, chest tightened. I felt engulfed by waves of anxiety that pulsed through me, waiting for it to pass with each minute that ticked by.

I had some very important decisions to make, and very little time.

It was 5 p.m. on Cyber Monday, with a countdown timer running like a bomb about to go off. Only eight more hours until THE BEST DEALS OF THE SEASON disappeared, leaving me with nothing but full-retail prices and despair should I miss this ONCE A YEAR opportunity.

Looking at my phone, I opened my tabs where, with a flick of my finger, I could see nine different virtual baskets, each carrying dozens of rugs, end tables, and curtains.

I’ll never make the right choice, I thought. This will look cheap, that is just WRONG for my space.

I decided to redo our living room (aka buy all new furniture and furnishings) in November of 2025, and waited until Black Friday and Cyber Monday to pull the trigger on most items. This decision, while prudent, catapulted me into a fit of anxiety that spanned over four days.

Large purchases can incite anxiety in most people, especially me. In my brain, money is meant to be saved, not spent. But looking at our 12-year-old couch—slouching and sad from years of abuse at college and in Boston apartments—I knew that this was the year I had to replace it. And, you obviously can’t just replace your couch… you have to replace the end tables, coffee table, and everything else, right?

The anxiety I felt was something deeper than money.

I started to consider what about these purchases was really driving my anxiety. Yes, spending money makes me nauseous. It feels wrong. It feels scary and gluttonous (all clearly personal issues I have to tackle). But the knot in my chest suggested there was something more to this.

I thought about the number of choices that lay in front of me. First, there are hundreds of stores to pick from. Then, the styles: for each rug, table, or chair, there are a multitude of styles, colors, shapes, and materials. Lastly, the price. While I had a “budget” floating in my head, it was more of a suggestion—but I had certain “high points” I refused to budge on for specific items.

Thus, when all variables were considered, there were probably a million different combinations of items I could buy.

Andddd enter anxiety.

I knew, from some of the reading I had done around decision-making, that what I was experiencing was choice overload. My mind kept reverting back to a famous study where researchers presented test subjects with 24 jams, and then with a display of six jams. Contrary to our belief that more choices are a good thing, the researchers found that more subjects bought jam when there were fewer options. In fact, hardly any (3%) bought the jam when there were 24 to choose from.

So yeah—what I was experiencing was classic choice overload, manifesting as an anxiety attack. Choice overload is essentially when you are confronted with too many choices and thus cannot make any decision at all.

That’s it, I realized. I was paralyzed because of the plethora of choices that lay in front of me. The plethora of choices I was laying out in front of myself.

Once I realized what was going on, I made a few concerted decisions that helped cut through the noise, reduce my anxiety, and finally pull the trigger on several big purchases (okay, big to me, anyway).

Here’s Why I Felt Stuck in Choice Overload:

I Was Worried About Making the Wrong Choice

Regret is a powerful thing. It’s human nature to avoid loss, and I could feel myself bracing for it. If I picked the wrong rug, I imagined myself staring at it years later, convinced I’d made a terrible mistake. It wasn’t really about the rug — it was fear disguised as decor.

Perfectionism: I Wanted to Make the Right Choice

Some part of me believes that if I pick the wrong thing, it reflects something about me. My taste. Or maybe my competence. Or worse, my ability to make decisions at all. It’s tied to regret, but it’s also about identity. I like being someone who “gets it right,” and that pressure makes every choice feel heavier than it needs to be.

I Was Allowing Myself to Have Too Many Choices

This was a big one.

Choice is a good thing. But each time I would find a few items I liked on ONE website, I’d shift to another and fill another basket up. Instead of presenting myself with just a few choices, I was expanding to a point where I was setting myself up for failure. Thinking back to the jam study, this was like giving myself 24 choices instead of the 6.

Clawing My Way Out of Choice Overload Anxiety

Ultimately, Cyber Monday ended, and I had persevered. I made two “big” decisions within hours and picked out my rug, coffee table, end table, and couch. Honestly, I didn’t think I would have gotten to that point at all.

I had to make a dedicated effort to cut through the noise and combat choice overload. With a degree of success, I used a few tactics to achieve this. In the future I plan on implementing these ideas before I go into an anxiety tailspin.

I Set Firm Parameters

I set clear guidelines for what I was looking for. This meant, I didn’t allow myself to be vague. I decided on color schemes, styles, sizes, durability, and price. Certain categories became non-negotiable, and this allowed me to promptly get rid of items that did not meet these criteria, no matter how cute or glamorous they looked.

Price is a tough one, because I had a sliding scale of what I was permitting myself to spend. However, by setting an “upper limit” on each item, I could easily stick to a loose budget.

I Enlisted the Help of ChatGPT

Hey, it’s not cheating. In fact, ChatGPT helped me automatically eliminate certain choices almost immediately, which freed my brain to focus on other options to consider. To accomplish this, I set up a project folder in Chat with my design style and preferences. I would then add pictures of furniture I was considering and ask it to give me honest feedback.

I highly recommend leveraging Chat in this way, as it provides insight you otherwise wouldn’t have.

Limit to 3 Choices

When I couldn’t decide on one item, such as a rug, I pared it down from 10 options to 3. This allowed me to step back, feel less overwhelmed, and consider them in relation to one another. I then presented the options to my husband, and he quickly shared his opinion.

Boom, decision made.

Let Go of Perfectionism

Alright, so this wasn’t as easy for me. I realized that no matter what decision I made, it may not be the “right” choice. But look, this wasn’t some life-altering decision. This was furniture. I think it’s so easy to get wrapped up in trying to make the right choice in every corner of our lives that even the trivial things get us wound up (okay, maybe that’s just me).

Anyway, I convinced myself that it was okay if I made the wrong choice. I picked certain websites that had strong return policies (such as Nathan James, which has 100-day free returns). This allowed me to feel confident knowing that even if I did make the “wrong choice,” I could undo it.

Moreover, I accepted that in a few years, my style, needs, and preferences likely will change. And you know what? That’s totally okay and normal.

The Real Lesson

In the end, I realized that while choice overload nearly paralyzed me to the point of making zero decisions, it was my perfectionism that was the number one culprit.

I have spent so much of my life trying to be perfect, make the right choice, and avoid regret that I’ll literally waste two days in anxiety to avoid feeling like a furniture-shopping failure.

By limiting my choices, enlisting third-party opinions, and picking more risk-free options, I was able to cut through some of the noise. But the last piece — letting go of perfectionism — was really what allowed me to click “buy now.”

And honestly, I did save nearly $1,000 on sales. So was it all worth it? I’d say so.

This isn’t an article on consumerism. Rather, it was an exercise in allowing myself to make choices under pressure, and with confidence.

So next time I’m facing a myriad of choices, I’ll think back to the Cyber Monday I decided to buy furniture.

It’s okay to make the wrong choice. Most things in life can be fixed, undone, or redone. If not, making a choice is better than making no choice at all.