I Still Love Horror. It Just Makes Me Cry Now

Murder podcasts while folding laundry, a Stephen King novel while cooking dinner, horror movies before bedtime—I could take it all in and continue my day normally.

Then I had my son.

I didn’t notice a switch had flipped at first, but I slowly began to notice the change even with my sleep-deprived, overwhelmed mom brain. Documentaries that once fascinated me into doing deep dives started to make my chest feel tight. A horror movie I used to watch without flinching left me numb while I stared at my son at 2 am recalculating how much power I truly had to protect those I love. Then one afternoon, as I was scrolling through Facebook, I came across a news article that occurred in our county. It caught my eye because it was so close to our home, and I clicked before I could think better of it.

The victim, at the time of their passing, was only 18 months old. That was four months older than my son at the time.

I’ve always known about cases like this, I’ve studied them in the past and sympathized best I could with the victims and the family left mourning. They were always sad and terrible. But I could file them away in a cabinet in my mind and move on. This time, I sat on the kitchen floor while my stomach twisted and roiled. My eyes darted between the words on the screen and the baby monitor with my son napping in his crib upstairs.

Tears were burning my eyes as I read because although my son was a little younger than the victim, I know just how much he already understood. I know the words he knows, the fears he has, what makes him laugh, how he calls for me when he needs help or just wants an extra snuggle, how small his hands are, and the way he excitedly looks to me and signs for “more” when he wants a snack or extra helping of fruit on his plate at mealtime. I do my best to give him the world, but the victim was ignored until the world faded away from them.

All horror, both fictional and true crime, instantly ceased being abstract. The genre had found the one door it wasn’t supposed to open—in fact, the one I didn’t even know was there—and walked through it.

I still love horror. I want to say that clearly. But I love it now in the way that you love something that has bitten you, hard. You give it more respect, more distance, and acknowledge that it can severely hurt you if you’re not careful and keep your eyes on possible escape routes.

Now, instead of consuming my favorite genre all day every day, I’m strategic about when I consume it. Reading horror novels with a sweet treat until my chest starts to feel too tight, then taking a break by playing a lighthearted game like Animal Crossing. Watching horror movies with my husband so he can hold me while I cry and caress the baby monitor as my son sleeps. True crime in small doses because I feel the pain too deeply while my brain screams: What if that was him?

My husband, and many others I’m sure, don’t understand why I continue loving horror when it brings me so much turmoil. They’d likely suggest putting my love of horror aside and instead focus on the things that only bring positivity for my own mental well-being. But horror has always been there for me. Yes, this bite hurt because the fangs sank in deep, but it doesn’t take away from what horror has provided for years and continues to give me.

Horror reminds me that life, while scary, is still worth living. It makes me live in the moment more because you never know when things could turn. Rather than living in fear, it teaches me to be resilient and to love deeply. To know that I, possibly like some of the protagonists and final girls, would give my absolute all to save everyone that I love.

So yes, I’ll still keep consuming horror in all its forms. But I’ll also kiss my husband more, snuggle my son more, and give people grace because we are all fighting our own hidden horrors. And most importantly, I’m teaching my son to bring light and kindness into the world. To fight for what’s right even when it’s hard. Even when it’s scary. Because every darkness has a bottom. It might be pitch black as you sit in it, but one thing about horror is always true: eventually you’ll succumb and fade away, or you’ll fight and come out the other side.

I say, keep fighting. Use your own fears and dark imaginations to battle against the horrors that only bring pain to the world.