Why Do So Many Trauma Survivors Love Scary Movies?

It’s all about the three C’s — comfort, control, and catharsis.

The first Halloween costume I ever chose for myself was the Grim Reaper.

Being surrounded by the other Kindergarten girls dressed as Disney princesses didn’t deter me or make me feel left out in the slightest. Behind my black hood — with a scythe at least two heads taller than me — I felt powerful.

After all, princesses are mere mortals. Death reigns eternal.

Sure, I loved watching Disney movies as a kid. But I loved watching dark, frightening things even more. That might be what led to my choice of costume.

Growing up, I also had a lot of anxiety and fear about parts of my life I couldn’t control — my parents’ fights and subsequent separation, moving back and forth across state lines a couple of times a month, attending preschool for the first time, and more. It’s clear to me now that those anxious feelings came from trauma. Still, I loved putting myself in frightening situations by choosing scary media — movies, shows, books — you name it. As an adult, I still do.

I’m not the only one who feels this way. I know tons of horror fans with trauma or other mental health issues they’re working through — and it doesn’t make them love horror films any less. Oddly enough, it seems to make them love them more.

But why?

Can horror movies possibly be useful for someone who is already dealing with unresolved trauma and the anxiety it induces? Logically, wouldn’t exposure to fear and heightened sensitivity make these struggles worse?

Maybe for some, but not for everyone.

Scary movies might feel oddly comforting to those with trauma-induced anxiety.

The years leading up to a child’s fifth birthday are crucial for the brain. Traumatic events we experience during our early years can lead to the onset of memory problems, anxiety, emotional dysregulation issues, and even PTSD. These events can even affect us on a biological level. Research shows that “childhood trauma has detrimental consequences on the biological stress systems, and cognitive and brain development.”

While my childhood was mostly fine — my parents undoubtedly loved me — some traumatic events got into the mix. My parents argued a lot and separated when I began preschool. They shared custody of me across state lines.

Eventually, they got back together and remained in a loveless marriage “for the kids” Sadly, they didn’t seem to understand that the toll their marital problems had on their mental health also negatively affected me. I grew up around lots of verbal fights that occasionally turned physical. To top it all off, they were both young and dealing with their own untreated mental health issues. Problems like these can be critical for new parents. Mine were raising their first child from an unplanned pregnancy. My mom had postpartum depression. And I’m pretty sure they both suffered from generational trauma.

Situations like this are scary to a young child who doesn’t understand what’s happening. But after a while, they become so common that a child can become desensitized. It’s a heartbreaking cycle — adopting the behaviors associated with our caregivers’ mental illnesses and then passing them down through the generations.

Repetition compulsion is a psychological phenomenon in which we seek out situations that remind us of our trauma repeatedly — usually unconsciously. We gravitate toward, and occasionally take comfort in, what feels familiar to us — even if that familiar feeling is unhealthy. It would stand to reason, then, that a person would seek out situations that would trigger heightened arousal of their nervous systems the way their trauma did.

Perhaps that’s why, even from a young age, I loved watching things that scared me. Even though it was difficult, fear was comforting to me. It felt like home. I got so used to it that being afraid eventually began to feel safe and familiar — because it reminded me of the only version of normalcy that I knew.

I’m not saying that binging horror movies because you’re comfortable with stress is fully healthy. I implore you to try therapy before you watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre as a coping mechanism. But, this explanation might explain why some of us actively seek out the macabre.

Sure, I didn’t have actual ghosts or demons manifesting physically in my house. But I was haunted by my parents’ metaphorical demons — we all were. And theirs created mine. All of our demons lived together in a dysfunctional mess for years. I’m still in the process of breaking that cycle and trusting that just because it feels familiar doesn’t mean that it’s healthy.

Another consideration is that, when one becomes desensitized to violence, they most likely end up what one study calls “sensation-seeking.” Researchers cited sensation-seeking behavior as one of the main reasons people enjoy horror.

Horror films can provide a sense of control over what we fear.

The key difference between scary media and my scary home life as a child had to do with being able to turn one off whenever I wanted — but not the other. Scary shows, movies, and books gave me an element of control in the face of sensations that usually invoked feelings of helplessness. I think a lot of enjoyment of horror for everyone, not just trauma survivors, has to do with being able to feel fear in a controlled environment.

After all, what is anxiety if not the body’s form of anticipating life’s metaphorical jump scares that never come? It’s called the “fight-or-flight” response for a reason.

Anxiety in humans helped us evolve into where we are today — collectively and individually. Without it, our species wouldn’t have survived. It makes sense, then, that much in the way a person with severe social anxiety rehearses their food order before going to a restaurant, anxious people will rehearse for dangerous events by watching something like a horror movie that puts them in that element. It allows us to formulate a plan ahead of time for what we might do if someone wielding a chainsaw hacks their way through our locked front door.

Also, horror allows us to experience feelings of fear in a safe place to show us that just because we’re anxious doesn’t mean we’re about to die.

This concept calls to mind Ashley Abramson’s piece about “calming up,” in which she writes:

Doing something scary in a controlled environment — whether that’s a more physical thrill, like riding a roller coaster, or something mental, like watching a horror movie — can be another way to constructively work through your stress. Research has shown that doing something risky can help you process the emotion by reframing it as something positive. Releasing adrenaline in a controlled environment helps you see for yourself that despite negative physical sensations, you are, in fact, safe.

So what makes something scary? Fear often originates when we confront things we don’t understand — things that are unknown to us — things like death, the supernatural, or the dark, to name a few examples—things we can’t often control.

And who in our society knows less about the people and events around them than children? They’ve only been on this Earth a short time, so they can’t help it — they’ve had fewer experiences than adults.

Hell, babies don’t even have object permanence! They don’t understand that when you’re playing peekaboo with them, you’re behind your hands or a blanket and not gone forever.

Kids are curious about things they don’t understand, even if they’re terrified.

So how do you stop being afraid of something? Lean into curiosity. When you face it, and you come to understand it. Then you’re armed with knowledge and experience. Suddenly you’ve regained control. That’s a common trope in horror films as well. If you were in the movie, it might get you killed. But outside of the movie? Well, you’re safe. And you’re more likely to remember next time you feel these feelings that you’re going to be okay.

Horror movies in which the protagonist survives often feel cathartic for those with traumatic pasts.

Beyond just having a difficult home life, I was also bullied horrendously in school as a child, its own form of trauma.

That’s probably why I’ve always loved watching the film “Carrie” so much. Carrie has an overbearing religious mother who locks her in closets when she gets home from school — school being a place where her peers torture her psychologically. The first time I watched the film, I identified very heavily with the protagonist, who never had a place where she felt safe in her formative years.

Maybe this is a bit morbid, but I always found myself cheering at the end of Carrie. Despite feeling powerless, Carrie has tremendously powerful powers of telekinesis. Spoiler alert: she uses these powers to murder her classmates at the prom. Then she goes home and uses these powers against her mother, who plans to kill her.

I’m certainly not advocating murder or implying that I want my mom or childhood bullies to die violent deaths. But sometimes, feeling a sense that those who harmed us saw some form of justice can be oddly healing.

Going on a journey with the characters in a horror film can feel immensely satisfying in this way. Studies show this satisfaction is the primary reason why most female horror fans enjoy the genre.

What the characters were running from no longer has power over them. The danger is over. They faced it and survived. Maybe that’s attainable for us.

Perhaps this is why the trope of the “Final Girl” in horror is so common. The audience goes on a journey with her, and they feel empowered. We compare her painful experiences to our own without even realizing it. We want her to win. And when she wins, in a small way, we feel as though we won too.

Horror movies may cause nightmares or keep you up at night. But if you’ve survived a traumatic experience, there’s a fair chance you were already up anyway.

If you are, maybe you should pop in Halloween and watch Laurie Strode battle Michael Myers. The effects on your mental health might be more positive than you’d expect.

Sure, death reigns eternal. But sometimes you get the chance to practice killing your demons before they kill you — and when you win back control, it feels great — more comforting than anxiety ever could.