Why I hate horror films
I have realized one reason I hate horror films (you know, other than the gratuitous blood, gore, death and icky ghost stuff). I hate horror films because I’m obsessive about things that upset me. So if I see an image in a scary movie that scares me, it will keep playing in my head, over and over until I can only see piles of evil ectoplasmic goo oozing from the bedroom walls to suffocate me while I sleep. Or drifting figures of sobbing women clutching at living throats. I need to actively drown those images in something else to keep them at bay, and it takes effort.
Same thing with uncomfortable or unpleasant real life stuff. It plays in my head, over and over and over, fooling me into thinking I’ve thought my way out of it only to reappear at the beginning as if I never figured anything out at all. And then again. And again.
I’m much better at doing things. Arguments are fine. Sulking is not. Stony silences? Uh-uh. I pace. I twist. My insides fill with anguished goo (more goo) until I will do anything to resolve things. I will apologize for things I never did and for all the things I did do and will ever do. I will bake things, make presents, confess and apologize and harrass and mangle and generally not leave things alone, like pimples, until they’re popped and better or all infected and supporating. Which brings me back to goo yet again. Goo is not good.
We arrived back in Philadelphia today to a huge stack of mail. In that stack was a letter from my friend who I hurt and it’s clear that as far as she is concerned, the friendship is all over. I’m running in brain circles trying to find the exit. I probably will, eventually, but not tonight. It’s too incredibly hot. Hot as hell. Oh see, now I’m worrying that I’m going to go to hell. In one of Terry Pratchett’s books he suggests that after you die, you go to where you expect you’ll go. I was brought up guilty and Catholic and I’m very worried, either way. All that good intentions stuff? Hell hell hell. I don’t even believe that religion is anything other than a way of telling stories about the divine and I’m still worried about going to hell. What silliness.
Which neatly brings me back ’round to horror films. Not good with all that tormented soul stuff. Or the goo.
What, you wanted wedding news? All right. Tomorrow. Probably. Need. To find. Exit.
EXIT – THIS WAY —>
I really regret the way I handled a breakup with an ex. Although it was a decade ago, and really should not matter in the scheme of things as he treated me terribly, my shame over my own bad behavior still festers. (I told a lie designed to hurt and drive as big a wedge possible between us so he’d leave me alone. I thought so I could heal, and that was partly correct, but I know I wanted to hurt him. Horribly.)
This guy is oceans away, and I have no idea how to contact him now, or even if my words and actions had any lasting effects on him. They have stayed with me though. And I’m not even catholic, although my mother used to be, so perhaps that guilt potion has a long shelf-life.
Long rambling way of saying that if its at all possible, sit down with this friend and make one last effort to repair things or at least get some closure.
Btw, sorry for blogging in your comment section. I find myself doing that after reading something that resonates. I took it to my own space instead.
I totally get it. I obsess at times and especially when it comes to friends. It so sucks that the friend is not getting what blogging is and take it at face value, as therapy and venting.
Sadly “goo” is the downside of being a wonderful, caring human being.
If all else fails try White Chestnut Bach Flower remedy – it’s very good at helping to block unwanted thoughts.
I am the same way. There are nights I cannot sleep because I recall the music from The Shining, and then, every bump I the night has me afraid of “the thing in the night which I cannot see, but wants to cause me harm and which is impervious to all logic and universal laws of the universe.” There are moments when confronted with a stony silence when I will admit to every atrocity known to man if only I can make the silence end. And every time something bad happens, I know I am going to hell.
I am frustrated with your friend because I can’t believe she is being so unyielding in her pain and anger. I wonder if she is playing up her woundedness, if she has found the opportunity to be the victim, to be the wronged party. I wonder what crimes she has committed against you, against others, which she is choosing to ignore as she revels in her victim status.
Movies like Jason have no effect on me, but movies like Silence of the Lambs, based in real life messed up minds, totaly scares the bejesus out of me.
Here through recommendation of Karrie at The Wellblog!:)
you aren’t going to hell…
hell doesn’t make any sense. you are simply experiencing the consequences–and experiencing them as a chastened and gracious person. Don’t fret. the goo will not get you; when we feel remorse, we have learned from our mistakes.
anyway, i don’t know what I’m talking about. don’t take advice from a stressed out and hungry bride-to-be. I want to eat the whole country. Really.
SM – you have done the best you could. Maybe I’m a pushover, but a sincere, contrite apology resonates with me in a way that makes it impossible not to forgive. You are so clearly sorry. You so clearly would not do it again, will not do it again. You are so obviously trustworthy. I can’t imagine someone withholding forgiveness, not allowing your relationship to start again. Please step back and wonder about these things yourself, when you can. Maybe it will make the break easier to bear when you see that you are dealing with a person who is determined to hold a grudge. You are getting all the hell you will get from this situation in the here and now. Do not fear. More is not coming.
i completely and wholly agree with
tammara above…
you have apologized, you are obviously
not only sorry but very upset about
this. its not like you blew it off
or tried to turn it around on
someone else…
there is only so much a person can do.
that said,
it is easy for me to say that
even though i know that i am very
similiar in the picking the pimple
til it pops analogy…it literally
drove my first boyfriend around
the bend (however, in hindsight,
i realize he didn’t have far to go)
(heh heh)
go easy on yourself…there
is only so much you can do
and so much that is in your realm
of control or choice…the
rest is then left to the other
person.
For one thing, there is “NO EXIT” – Camus taught us that. (Sorry)
Next, the road to good intentions is paved with low-grade asphalt. Speaking of low grade, here’s Snydely Whiplash…
Sorry to be cynical. Ok, how about this:
There’s always Do-Right. Dudely Do-Right. Constable Dudely Do-Right. Constable Dudely Do-Right of the Royal Canadian Mounties.
Where ever Snydely Whiplash lurks, you can bet there’s ….
Ok. This boy has far too much time on his hands.
Torture scenes get me. I don’t believe in hell as an actual place, but still it haunts.