How Horror Helps Manage Depression, Anxiety and Trauma

Horror media can be a powerful tool for living with trauma

by Mel Ashford

As a sensitive and easily frightened person, I was surprised to find myself drawn to horror as a means of dealing with assault.

The first thing that drew me in was revenge—more precisely, the ability to get vicarious revenge through characters like the heroines of Carrie (2013) and Teeth (2007). I found catharsis and solidarity in watching these abused women take down the people that had abused them, especially as both these characters used something they already had within them—Carrie’s telekinetic powers and Dawn’s vagina dentata—to get revenge.

I’m not alone in turning to horror as a way of coping. A study from 2018 found that a key part of the appeal of horror movies is the ability to feel in control of your fears. Making it through a film about a serial killer can, in some sense, give you the experience of conquering those same fears, even as you know you were never really in danger. A scary movie can become a sort of psychological play acting, boosting confidence and easing anxiety.

That the opportunity for controlled confrontation of our anxieties can be deeply powerful should come as no surprise. After all, a large part of the experience of trauma comes from and is experienced as a loss of control—often in horrific, unpleasant ways. And the situation only deepens after experiencing trauma, as survivors can feel like they’re losing control of their lives as they wrestle with the emotions their experience has left them with.

For trauma survivors like me, this element of control present in horror movies can be vital to recovery. Watching a horror movie that you can turn on and off at will re-establishes the feeling of control that is lost in the experience of trauma and which many trauma survivors find missing in their everyday lives. Horror cinema becomes not just representation but an actual tool—one that serves both as an opportunity to see ourselves reflected onscreen, and as a way to act out our own fear and desires. 

After all, the same loss of control experienced during trauma manifests throughout a film like Carrie. The film begins as Carrie gets her first period in the shower at school and is humiliated by her peers, mocked and traumatized for a body that seems beyond her control. This theme appears again as her abusive mother locks her in a cupboard, literally taking away her liberty and agency. Carrie’s story is exceptional and supernatural, but her own loss of control mirrors the everyday loss of control and agency experienced by trauma survivors.

The same loss of control experienced during trauma manifests throughout a film like Carrie.

These scenes can also be a powerful representation for specific causes of trauma. As someone who has suffered body-shaming—for my sexual body parts, my weight, and my hearing disability—the shower scene personally helped establish a sense of solidarity between myself and the telekinetic heroine of the film. It’s not hard to imagine a similar experience for someone who has been held against their will, trapped in a small space, or otherwise forced to do something they don’t want to do. And of course, even if it’s our first time seeing the film, we as members of the audience are likely aware that Carrie is powerful and will get her revenge. And so Carrie’s ultimate victory—pinning her attacker’s hand to the wall with a set of scissors—in some ways becomes our own victory as well.

This ties into another aspect of the horror film experience: catharsis, something many horror fans mention as the main reason they watch horror in the first place. Whether through the release of pent-up emotions of fear and tension or viewing gory images, horror can soothe a troubled mind.

I can appreciate where they’re coming from. I don’t often cry, but watching a horror movie gets my adrenaline pumping—and afterward, as I calm down, the tears will come out. I’ll even genuinely feel better for a day or two, even if underlying feelings of depression eventually set in again. Often, all that was needed was an outpouring of emotion, whether that’s fear, thrill, or a good cry. Horror can help people access those hard-to-reach emotions and provide a way to express them.

(The calmer moments after a thrilling scene are another source of catharsis—in the quiet office scene following the trauma of Carrie’s period scene, for instance. This technique, of a “calm after the storm”, gives viewers a chance to regroup, to lower their heart rates and absorb the events. In film as in life, people need a chance to process what has happened after a big event, either positive or negative). 

This same journey—of experiencing trauma, losing control, and then ultimately reclaiming it in a burst of emotion—is mirrored in the plot of a film like Carrie, as well. Carrie begins the film traumatized and having lost control: of her life, of her agency, and even of her growing powers, which (much like her trauma, and the trauma of a viewer) often seem to control her much more than she controls them. As the film goes on, though, these same telekinetic powers give Carrie a new sort of control, as she first investigates this strange side of herself, then experiments with it, then ultimately finds power and retribution through it. I found myself identifying with Carrie’s research into her powers (and her trauma), in much the same way as I practiced ways of controlling fear, anxiety, and panic attacks after my assault—finding my own power, just as she ultimately finds hers.

If you’re a survivor of sexual abuse, films like Carrie or Teeth offer catharsis of another sort, as well. Revenge movies are of particular value to many trauma survivors because they provide the chance to watch characters like Carrie’s titular hero or Teeth’s assault survivor Dawn exact their retribution. In horror films, people like Carrie’s bullies get their comeuppance—visibly, potently, and immediately. For victims who never reported the crimes committed against them or were failed by the so-called justice system, this is a rare opportunity to experience victory over their abusers, however vicariously. 

Revenge movies are of particular value to many trauma survivors.

Horror films may only exist on screen, but the physiological effects of watching them are very real. Our hearts and pulses pound in time with the heroes and heroines on screen, as their fears become our fears, and their trauma our trauma. Experiencing ourselves again through movies brings us back to those same physiological situations, ultimately helping us better manage our very real fears and anxieties in the real world. Experiencing the physical effects of fight-or-flight—racing thoughts, nausea, a narrowing of vision—helps us to better recognize and deal with parallel experiences in our day-to-day lives. By experiencing them in a safe, low stakes way, horror movies allows us to discover and understand our bodies’ fear responses, which helps so better handle anxiety attacks (as well as the fear of that physiological response itself).

When I watch Carrie or Teeth, I find myself thinking of my trauma, but differently. I think more about having survived it and being in a position to fight back. While not a distraction from the experience itself, horror still distracts me. It reframes things for me, offering me a chance to envision myself in a position of power over the person who attacked me.

The visceral shock of a good horror film can also be distracting in another way, by engrossing us in imagery so dark or so gory that our minds are taken away from everything else. Watching Carrie and seeing Chris’s face go through the windscreen of her boyfriend’s car, I found the imagery so horrifying that I briefly forgot everything else.

Ultimately, watching a horror movie allows us to investigate and confront our fears without actually putting ourselves in danger. For the duration of a film, we can explore what it’s like to meet a mad axeman, an abusive parent, a menacing stalker without any risks—with the ability to choose when to view them, when to persevere, and when to switch them off and catch our breaths.

For trauma survivors or people suffering from mental health issues, it grants us a way of tapping into the darkness and fear inside ourselves. Of confronting the rapist, of experiencing or even conquering trauma and depression, and ultimately of paving the way to recovery and healing.

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