Horror movies are my favourite form of self-care and here's why it actually makes sense

Let me start by saying this—I love a good scare (on-screen, of course). Jump scares and eerie soundtracks might feel a little overdone these days, but when they’re done right, they can turn a movie night into an adrenaline rush. Take Hereditary, for instance. It is touted among the most chilling horror films ever made—and while I appreciated the plot and Toni Collette’s mind-blowing performance, I’d still rank it mid-tier on my personal horror scale. For me, it’s films like Veronica, Pet Sematary, The Amityville Horror, and The Blair Witch Project that really deliver that spine-tingling thrill.

I remember the very first horror movie I ever watched was The Ring. I was probably in school, and yes, back then, I was completely terrified. I remember shutting my eyes every time that cursed well appeared on-screen, peeking through my fingers just to torture myself. Back then, it haunted my dreams. Now a an adult, I just feel bad for Samara. It’s less a horror film and more a tragic story about a kid who needed more help. 

At one point, my friends even began sharing memes with me about how it is a “psychopath trait” to enjoy horror movies. But I think that mostly came from the plot (inspired by very real events) of Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story. But that got me thinking—why do I, and so many others, genuinely enjoy being scared? Turns out, there’s actually some psychology behind it.

No, it doesn’t make me crazy

People often joke that I must be a little unhinged to sit through horror movies so calmly. I’ve had friends tell me I’m “mentally ruined.” But honestly, it’s not that deep. I don’t watch horror for the blood and guts—I watch it for the storytelling. The tension. The mystery. That exciting anticipation when you know something terrible is about to happen, but can’t look away.

So basically, my brain gets its drama fix and dopamine hit, without me ever having to leave my bed.

The thrill of fear (yup, it feels good to be scared)

I’m not the person who laughs during horror movies (we all know how it ends for those characters in horror films). But I’m also not the one hiding behind a cushion. There’s always this weird mix of anticipation and curiosity—like I want to be scared, but I also need the story to make sense. If it’s just jump scares and bad CGI, I’m out.

I prefer ghosts and possession stories; they are the gold standard. They’re layered—part horror, part mystery, sometimes even a tragedy. You’re not just scared, you’re invested. Who’s haunting this family? Why are they stuck? What happened to them? There’s lore, emotion, and even a bit of moral reckoning.

According to Ruuh, these films help you experience intense emotions like fear, grief, and dread without being overwhelmed. And this emotional endurance is what makes you more tolerant of other people’s emotions. Fear with feeling if you will.

And that’s exactly why I still think about Devil. It startled me, sure, but what really stayed with me was the message—that evil exists to balance out good, that karma always finds a way, and that there’s something bigger at play than just us. The best horror films don’t just make you scream—they make you think.

How horror became my weird version of comfort

While everyone else finds comfort in light-hearted comedies or feel-good dramas, I find mine in haunted houses and exorcisms. This is where I tell you I love CW’s Supernatural and have watched it more times than is probably considered healthy. Fifteen seasons, countless monsters, angels, demons, and one very broody but adorable Dean Winchester later—I can confidently say, nothing feels as oddly comforting as a show where the apocalypse happens every other week and still somehow resets.

During the pandemic, when everything felt uncertain, horror weirdly became my coping mechanism. People were baking banana bread; I was rewatching The Conjuring (in the right chronological order). Maybe it’s because horror gives you a sense of control—you know bad things are going to happen, but you also know they’ll end. There’s order in the chaos.

Ruuh shares that during times of uncertainty, people actually turn to horror to process emotions they can’t face directly. Makes sense because sometimes it’s easier to deal with demons on-screen than the ones in real life.

No, being “too comfortable” with fear isn’t actually a red flag

I’ve had people tell me that being this calm during horror movies means I’m desensitised or emotionless. Spoiler alert: I sob like a baby during the end of Marley & Me (and even Kal Ho Na Ho). I just handle fictional terror differently. “When someone consumes a lot of frightening or violent content, the brain’s emotional response system can become desensitised,” says Ruuh. “But that only applies to fiction. You’ll still feel fear in real-life danger.”

So no, watching a horror film doesn’t shut you off emotionally. In fact, it can actually help you explore emotions like fear, grief, and dread without being overwhelmed by them. 

For me, horror isn’t about chasing fear; it’s about conquering it. Every time I survive a jump scare or a possessed nun, it’s like a tiny reminder that fear can’t control me. It’s strangely liberating. And the next time someone calls me weird for loving horror movies, I’ll just smile and tell them my amygdala and prefrontal cortex are thriving. Science says it’s normal, plus I’ll take ghosts, curses, and demonic dolls over predictable love triangles any day.

Lead image credit: Pexels, IMDb 

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