# Should I Rent or Buy? I've Done the Math 12 Times.

I've done the math twelve times. Twelve. I have a spreadsheet — tabs, color coding, a section for "scenarios" — that compares renting versus buying across every horizon you can imagine. Five years. Ten years. Fifteen. I've factored in maintenance, property tax, closing costs, the opportunity cost of the down payment, and the emotional value of a backyard, which I assigned a number because my spreadsheet doesn't have a column for feelings.

Every time I run it, the answer changes. Not because the numbers move — because I do. One week I'm convinced buying is the responsible move, locking in my costs, building equity. The next I'm sure renting is freedom, flexibility, the option to leave. The spreadsheet doesn't have a wrong answer. Which is the problem. If the math can't tell me what to do, then the decision was never math.

I've also toured exactly zero houses. Like the spreadsheet, I keep the decision in the abstract, where it's safe. If I never look at an actual place, I never have to face the part of this that has nothing to do with interest rates.

The three things the spreadsheet couldn't tell me

What the reading said

I did a reading. The question: should I buy or rent?

The reading didn't touch the spreadsheet. It asked: what are you actually trying to build — a home, or a version of yourself who stays?

And there it was, underneath twelve versions of the same calculation.

I wasn't deciding between two housing options. I was deciding whether I was allowed to become someone who stays. My whole life has been a series of exits — cities, jobs, relationships, leases — each one clean and each one mine. Staying has always felt like a risk, like the moment I commit to a place, I'll be trapped, and everyone will find out I don't actually know how to belong anywhere.

The house wasn't about the house. It was about whether I could trust myself to stay. And the spreadsheet was the perfect shield, because as long as the math was unresolved, I didn't have to resolve the question underneath it.

What happened

I stopped running the numbers. I went and looked at one house — one, not twelve — and it was smaller than I'd imagined and needed work, and I could picture myself in it, which scared me more than the mortgage would.

I didn't buy it. But I stopped pretending the decision was financial. I had the conversation I'd been avoiding — with myself, about why the idea of staying anywhere for ten years made my chest tight. That conversation is still going. It turns out I'd spent years perfecting the exit, and I'd never once practiced the staying. The house was never the risk. The staying was.

Anyway. The spreadsheet is closed. I still rent, for now. But I know the next decision I make about a home will be a decision about whether I'm ready to belong somewhere — and no number of tabs can answer that one.

If you've been running the same numbers on a big decision — a house, a move, a commitment — and the math keeps coming out neutral, try a reading. Three numbers. No account. It won't do the arithmetic for you. But it might show you what you're actually trying to build, and whether it's a place you can find on a spreadsheet.

FAQ

Q: Isn't buying vs. renting just a math question? A: The math matters, but it's not the whole question — which is why you keep re-running it. When the numbers come out differently every time you run them, the real variable isn't the interest rate. It's you. What the numbers can't tell you is whether you're ready to stay, and that's the question you're actually avoiding. See also: Should I Buy a Car? I've Been Researching for a Year Without Driving One. — the spreadsheet as a waiting room.

Q: How do I know if I'm financially ready to buy? A: That part genuinely is math — savings, stability, a horizon you can commit to. Run those numbers once and believe them. But be honest about what's math and what's fear. If you can afford it, do the numbers, and you still feel frozen — the freeze isn't financial. It's the question underneath.

Q: What if I buy and then want to leave? A: Then you leave. Selling is a hassle, not a prison sentence. But the fear of "what if I want to leave" is worth examining — because it might be the story of your life in miniature. I'd spent so long perfecting exits that I couldn't picture staying. The house wasn't the trap. The story was.

Q: How does a reading help with a housing decision? A: It separates the property from the person. I thought I was deciding whether to buy a house. I was actually deciding whether I was ready to belong somewhere. The reading pointed at the spreadsheet's blind spot — and once I could see the real question, the math stopped running in circles.