I usually don’t choose to voluntarily scare myself, but you just got to indulge every now and then.

I’ve recently come to love all kinds of horror. It can be TV, movies, novels all of that. I like good, weird and unique scary stories. I like the supernatural. It’s not real. It’s irrational, and I can’t relate to it at all, but that’s what I like most about it.

I had heard so much about the movie “Hereditary” from friends, family and on a number of podcasts I listen to. Everyone was talking about how great the movie was. I’m not going to give away too much because it would be near impossible for me to talk about the movie without giving away major spoilers.

We’ll just say this movie was gripping, emotional and disturbing from start to finish. I found myself cringing and covering my face throughout the entire two hours without even realizing it— mostly the last 30 minutes where everything just goes completely off the rails.

The movie deals with death, heartache, trauma and even cults, so what’s not to like, right? Seriously, though, it’s definitely not a movie for everybody. There were some intense scenes that I thought about for way too long while I was trying to go to sleep Tuesday night. Plus, I had a cat who was meowing uncomfortably loud and staring at the doorway at 4 a.m. He tipped over a flower pot, which woke me up and scared me to death. It was followed by laughter, though, once I realized it wasn’t an evil demon, just a three-legged insomniac.

The movie made me think more of why I enjoy movies like that, and why people like being scared in general.

According to an article from www.healthline.com titled, “Why We Like to Be Scared,” when we’re afraid, our bodies release chemicals that give us these good feelings. So, the scary stuff shocks us, releases these chemicals and then makes us laugh.

The article says these “chemical signatures” of “happy, laughing, excited or surprised” looks similar to when we’re scared. It’s just a different context.

My brother had been talking about “Hereditary” for days, and so I told him I had to go see it, and he wanted to watch it with me. We ended up roping my dad into it as well, even though it’s “not [his] type of movie” at all — he’s more of a Steven Segal/shoot ‘em up/Marvel kind of guy.

It was one of the only times I’ve ever heard my dad just yell in disgust, and honestly it was one of the greatest things I’ve ever heard — does that make me a bad son? I don’t know, and I’m not worried about it.

With the disgust comes laughter and then uneasy shuffling back into my seat.

It’s fun to be uncomfortable every now and then, I think. Hopefully it doesn’t happen again at 4 a.m., though. I’m throwing away that flower pot.

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