Inside, Megan Fox was biting a guys face off.
The two-and-a-half-foot-tall fake tree whose implicit tragedy my father seemed oblivious to was on display atop a TV tray.
The clam chowder and lobster bisque of a nominally Italian Christmas Eve congealed on the kitchen counter.
Daniel Zender
My bedroom, though, was a world apart.
At least, I had been.
My heart plummeted but stopped short of hitting the ground when I remembered the movie paused behind me.
Down the hall, George Bailey lassoed the moon.
The holiday season has long felt fraught to me.
Its normal to be stressed out by the holidays.
Evidently Im not the only one finding my tidings of comfort and joy through tension and terror.
Im learning to embrace my fear.
I havent always sought out scares during the holidays.
I actually used to hate horror movies.
I was an uneasy kid, suspicious of Claymation Santa and outright terrified by the Grinch.
At family gatherings, when my older cousins put on a scary movie, I would simply hide.
But around my 11th Christmas, something shifted.
I had entered my crisis-of-sexuality era, alternately googling, Am i gay?
and How to pray (beginner).
When the holidays rolled around again, I found I was armed with an effective coping mechanism.
I soon realized I was in good company.
Horror movies acknowledge and embody the stress Im expected to suppress while also giving it a definitive end time.
Onscreen horror helps me process and escape the horror of real life.
Neither of us ever knew what gifts to get the other.
Id once been a believer in holiday mythology.
When my mom got tired during our time together, we would watch TV and movies.
If youre tired of festivities, try calamities instead.
When its too much, I take refuge in horror.
Who needs holiday traditions and rituals when you have the high tension and disturbing visuals ofThe Ritual?
Or David Harbour in the similarly sillyViolent Night?
In the cheery, eerie glow of the screen, they make perfect sense.
