Haunted

I love horror. I love scary stories, dark movies, serial killer documentaries, true crime podcasts, and Halloween. Most days, I wear a golden ghost charm around my neck. People constantly tell me they are surprised by this love, and that I’m one of the last people they’d expect to have a fondness for stories about murderers, ghosts, monsters, demons. “You don’t seem the type. Why do you love it? How can you love it?” are very common questions.

“The stories we hear in childhood are the ones we remember all our lives.” ― The Wind Through the Keyhole

Perhaps I was born into the world with one eye on the darkness. A bold line I’ll admit, but it’s been said that I have a flair for the dramatic - and horror can be quite heavy handed. Maybe it stemmed from the time my biological Dad was supposed to take me to see Toy Story, but instead we watched Species: The Awakening. Or possibly it came from his love of Alien, and the many times I sat in his condo alone, filling time watching the movies over and over. More likely, however, is that my love of horror came from my grandmother. I remember very vividly lying in her bed, curled up close as she valiantly fought a useless battle with cancer, watching Dracula for the very first time. I curled up close to her, my eyes peaking from behind the covers. It was thrilling. And even though I felt scared, and slept with blankets over my neck for years to come - I liked the experience of it. The adrenaline - the anticipation. I liked that somehow I could maybe grow up to be like my MeeMaw: unafraid. Brave. Staring directly at the monster, both eyes wide open. She wasn’t scared of cancer, and she wasn’t scared of Dracula. I didn’t want to be either. Now, it’s not groundbreaking to observe there are some additional psychological things we can unpack here about a child unwilling to face the horrors of real life (cancer, death), instead embracing the horrors of the imaginary - but that really is a bit heavy-handed, even for me.

“Everything’s a lot tougher when it’s for real. That’s when you choke. When it’s for real.” ― IT

Skipping ahead to today, as an adult, horror is both an escape AND a unique lens to evaluate myself through. A contradiction sure, but most of our fear usually is. Horror is an escape in the sense that *knock on wood* my problems are never as bad as those of a character in a horror movie. No one is chasing me with a chain saw. There isn’t a ghost in my attic. When I pop on a horror movie, I lean into other emotions to mask whatever else it is that I’m trying to avoid. I’m not saying this is always the healthiest thing to do, but it usually gets the job done.

“We sometimes need to create unreal monsters and bogies to stand in for all the things we fear in our real lives.” ― The Shining

On a deeper level though, even though it can feel like a popcorn fueled escape, horror is really just exaggerating and exploiting any reality we’re trying to run from. We aren’t really scared of possession - we’re scared of losing a sense of who we are, of being out of control. It’s not about the clown in the sewer - it’s about putting trust in the wrong place. The darkness itself isn’t what we’re terrified of - it's the unknown.

So, no … my house isn’t haunted.

But … am I?

“Men and women who can’t get over their past… That’s what ghosts are.” ― Needful Things

I think we’re all haunted by something, or someone: dreams we’ve given up, the person we thought we’d be by now, the potential we saw in someone else or ourselves, bad decisions, an important person who impacted our lives and, for whatever reason, is no longer a part of our story. Some of us have an attic of ghosts inside our heads, our hearts. We carry them around until we’re ready to confront them, or release them. Some ghosts follow us around until it’s time for them to crossover peacefully - a soft release, a calm step forward, a faded memory we sometimes stumble upon, but rarely think about. A faded photograph with softly worn edges.

Some ghosts are more hostile, refusing to leave us alone, burdening us with sleepless nights and a thick haze. As much as we want to be free, we are haunted. Sometimes it’s us refusing to let the ghost move on, insistent on living in the past, on picking the scab until it bleeds. Again, and again.

“It’s hard to let go. Even when what you’re holding onto is full of thorns, it’s hard to let go. Maybe especially then.” ― Joyland

Horror can actually teach you a lot about yourself, if you’re willing to face the ghost - or the monster under the bed. In witchcraft, we call this shadow work. It’s not easy. Would you rather test your luck with Dracula or your fear of commitment? Would you rather play JigSaw’s game, or deal with buried trauma from the past? Shockingly, most people would take their chances with the movie villains.

“We lie best when we lie to ourselves.” ― It

It’s not a ghost, it’s the wind. It’s not my fault, it’s his. We always want some other explanation than the one we fear most.

Because when we choose to acknowledge and face these darker parts of ourselves we become harder, more guarded, more jaded. As we battle, we grow, yes, but we also fall. We trip in the woods, running away. The gun runs out of bullets. We fall asleep and let the nightmare in. We watch our friends disappear, one by one. Sometimes we lose.

When confronting our monsters, we sometimes swallow too much darkness.

“He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. When you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you.” Nietzsche

This begs the question: should we fight the darkness or learn to live with it? Is having some darkness twisting through us the worst thing, if we still shine light? I think it depends. I think we have to choose our battles, and choose which ghosts we want to live with. I’m not the first to muse, “but what would the moon and stars be without the darkness?”

“Be careful, lest in casting out your demon you exorcise the best thing in you.” Nietzsche

Horror is filled with tropes, but one of the most popular ones is The Final Girl (See: Halloween, Alien, Friday the 13th, Texas Chain Saw Massacre, Scream … Just to name a few film examples). The Final Girl is the last woman left standing, the one who’s outlasted (either by wit or luck) everyone else and become the one to confront and take down the killer. The final face off. It doesn’t take much of a mental leap to understand why this trope is a favorite of mine - as it directly flips the “damsel in distress” trope on it’s head. As a girl I wanted to be Cinderella - as a woman, I want to be Ellen Ripley.

I asked a lot of questions today, and provided few answers or absolutes. But, I do know one thing for sure.

I’m a fucking final girl.

 “Drive away and try to keep smiling. Get a little rock and roll on the radio and go toward all the life there is with all the courage you can find and all the belief you can muster. Be true, be brave, stand.” ― It

Alex