Binge-Watching is Good For Your Mental Health
No, really. It is.
I am a TV snob. I’ll be the first to admit it. Mad Men was my first TV love, and goddamnit, it was just so good. It ruined me.
Maybe I’m a little nostalgic for the feeling I used to get watching it. My then-boyfriend-now-husband and I were living in a farmhouse with four or five other people just outside the town where we were going to college. We’d all cram into one of our rooms, sprawl out on the bed, the floor, the computer chairs, and worship at the church of Sterling Cooper Draper Price.
We were all about to graduate and I, the budding feminist/historian/poet, was enamored with the glamourous vintage aesthetic, the smoky rooms, the cocktails, and the intelligent banter made possible by the problematic classic white male American entitlement to literally everything. I dreamt of maybe getting a job writing copy where I could patent my own “basket of kisses” and rise to Peggy Olsen status. I bought dresses solely because they reminded me of something Megan Draper would wear. To this day, gin holds a special place in my heart. What I wouldn’t give for a Tanqueray and Tonic or a Tom Collins right about now.
But I digress.
The point is that having been baptized by the kind of iconic holy water Mad Men had to offer meant that I would be turning my nose up at a lot of other perfectly solid TV programs for nearly the next ten years. I mean, I even resisted This Is Us for a good four seasons- I know, I’m the worst kind of person.
This god-forsaken pandemic, however, has really pushed me outside of my viewing comfort zone. My husband and I have binge-watched just about everything, although I’m still not ready to sell my soul to the devil and start streaming Virgin River quite yet. Sorry not sorry.
A few months back, we caught a few episodes of Chicago PD randomly on TNT or some similar network. I’m typically not a fan of mystery or police dramas, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get sucked in. It wasn’t long before we decided we’d better start at the beginning. Once we realized there was a whole Chicago-verse where we could watch our beloved Voight, Atwater, and Burgess make cameos on Chicago Fire and Chicago Med, we were all in. We’ve watched every episode of the One Chicago franchise to date, and I may or may not be losing my grip on reality.
Last week, after a particularly annoying episode of Chicago Med (my personal least favorite in the franchise), I caught myself Googling something along the lines of “Natalie Manning criticisms.” I am apparently so consumed in the world of One Chicago that I want to connect with other viewers who have a similar distaste for Natalie Manning.
How did I get here? What has become of the smart, cool, cocktail-drinking, Mad Men watching academic? Can I live with what I’ve become?
The answer is yes. And here’s why.
It’s no secret that pandemic life has lent itself well to excessive binge-watching. I’m not going to quote another survey on the percentage of people who admit to having watched an obscene amount of TV over the last year. It’s not that hard to imagine. I’m also not going to tell you how bad binge-watching is for you and that it rots your brain and blame my shameful personal investment in the One Chicago franchise on that.
Quite the opposite, actually.
According to Lisa Perks, an associate professor at Merrimack College, binge-watching can be a coping mechanism for the dumpster fire we’re currently living in. In an article released by the Merrimack College Office of Communications in April 2020, Perks suggests that a level of personal investment in a television series “can help calm feelings of isolation, boost your mood and provide a sense of connection.”
I’m not just citing that to make myself feel better. OK, maybe I am just a little. But still, Perks has a point.
My husband and I believe in science. We also have a new baby to protect as well as middle-aged and elderly parents and grandparents. We don’t go anywhere. We don’t see anyone. This has been our MO since last March. While we still keep in touch with our family and friends on an almost daily basis, that doesn’t change the fact that there’s just not much going on. There’s nothing happening to get involved in. No gatherings or dinners or happy hours, no concerts or festivals or games. And I’m fine with that, I really am.
But if I can live vicariously through Erin Lindsay or Gabby Dawson or April Sexton or have an adult conversation with my husband about why Kelly Severide is a lovable jerk who goes MIA on Stella because he just doesn’t know how to express his emotions, then damnit I’m going to do it. I’ll daydream about strolling the streets of downtown Chicago and seeing sweet little Sylvie Brett whizz by in ambo 61. I’ll combine Chicago-verses and pretend like Ruzek uses Frank Gallagher as a CI. I’ll form a Natalie Manning Sucks club online and connect with other viewers who are just as fed up with her shenanigans as I am. Maybe I won’t do that, but I’ll do a Google search to see if anybody else has.
We all need to allow ourselves to do whatever it is we need to do to get through the pandemic’s foreseeable future- within reason, of course. Watch eight hours of Sweet Magnolias if you have to, just take a few brisk walks around the block in between episodes.
Someday I’ll have the luxury of making only the most highbrow TV selections. The Handmaid’s Tale and Stranger Things will come back someday. Until then, I’ll be re-watching Golden Girls so my husband doesn’t have a reason to start Virgin River.
Jordan Peden is a writer, wife, and new mother who quit her day job to pursue her passion. She is based in small town, Ohio.