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š¦
Iām not sure how old I was when my family rented Alfred Hitchcockās āThe Birds,ā but I never forgot certain images from it: crows gathering on the playground; seagulls blotting out the blue sky over a childrenās birthday party; a farmer staring straight into the camera lens (straight at me) through bloody spaces where his eyes should have been.
It was probably somewhere around the attack on the schoolchildren that I left the room, and I never returned to finish The Birds until this year, following a trip up to Bodega Bay, where the film is set (only about an hour or so from where I now live).
Bodega Bay seems proud of its legacy as the backdrop of this enduring story of avian mayhem. And there was a certain charm to the place that made the idea of The Birds seem more whimsical than terrifying. So, I decided it was probably time to finish what I started all those years ago.
Two things surprised me:
The first was how a movie with such a ridiculous premise, one that is so easy to mock and seems ripe for parody, still delivers a palpable feeling of uncanny dread. And second, what a near perfect representation this film is of certain feelings Iāve had in the year since I arrived in northern California.
I recently began having anxiety attacks for the first time in nearly fifteen years. My struggles with anxiety and depression were a more immediate presence in my life when I was young, but with time and support and insight, their looming presence has lessened. The circumstances and pressures that caused these forces to return with such immediacy into my life is not the point of this post. What I want to get at here is something that is known by many fans of horror films, but might seem strange to those who steer clear of them altogether, and ask questions like āwhy the hell would you decide to scare yourself when life is frightening enough already?ā
Itās a good question, and one that I think takes more than one person to adequately answer, but for my part - at this moment in my life when panic and fear seem closer at hand, and my ability to control them feels too often outmatched - it can be truly comforting to recognize my emotional and psychological experiences within a piece of art.
As someone familiar with anxiety as both a steady presence and a sudden consuming one, I find it calming to watch those same sensations unfold on a screen in the elevated scenarios of genre fiction. I can turn to psychology and therapy and neuroscience to better understand these feelings, but horror, when done well (and hell even when done charmingly poorly), offers scale models of these experiences, safe and even entertaining ways to engage with them, and in so doing, lessen the threat they pose.
There are many layers to the appeal of horror, but to see certain heightened feelings reflected back at you is certainly one of them. They can tell you, now and then and in indirect and fantastic and even silly terms, that you are not the only one who feels this way.
More in my substack āAngle Onā
Bodega Bay seems proud of its legacy as the backdrop of this enduring story of avian mayhem. And there was a certain charm to the place that made the idea of The Birds seem more whimsical than terrifying. So, I decided it was probably time to finish what I started all those years ago.
Two things surprised me:
The first was how a movie with such a ridiculous premise, one that is so easy to mock and seems ripe for parody, still delivers a palpable feeling of uncanny dread. And second, what a near perfect representation this film is of certain feelings Iāve had in the year since I arrived in northern California.
I recently began having anxiety attacks for the first time in nearly fifteen years. My struggles with anxiety and depression were a more immediate presence in my life when I was young, but with time and support and insight, their looming presence has lessened. The circumstances and pressures that caused these forces to return with such immediacy into my life is not the point of this post. What I want to get at here is something that is known by many fans of horror films, but might seem strange to those who steer clear of them altogether, and ask questions like āwhy the hell would you decide to scare yourself when life is frightening enough already?ā
Itās a good question, and one that I think takes more than one person to adequately answer, but for my part - at this moment in my life when panic and fear seem closer at hand, and my ability to control them feels too often outmatched - it can be truly comforting to recognize my emotional and psychological experiences within a piece of art.
As someone familiar with anxiety as both a steady presence and a sudden consuming one, I find it calming to watch those same sensations unfold on a screen in the elevated scenarios of genre fiction. I can turn to psychology and therapy and neuroscience to better understand these feelings, but horror, when done well (and hell even when done charmingly poorly), offers scale models of these experiences, safe and even entertaining ways to engage with them, and in so doing, lessen the threat they pose.
There are many layers to the appeal of horror, but to see certain heightened feelings reflected back at you is certainly one of them. They can tell you, now and then and in indirect and fantastic and even silly terms, that you are not the only one who feels this way.
More in my substack āAngle Onā
Oct 25, 2024
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š§ On July 13th, I had an episode. A mental one. I completely lost it at work. No, no one caused it, I wasn't attacked, berated, crushed by some coworker or customer, (alphabetical Tripel, triple C dribble). Today, right now, I was scared it was going to happen again. It's now a new fear, and for some weird reason, I'm not scared. It feels natural.
Anxiety is apparently in most animals, used to protect oneself from predators and danger in general. It's kind of funny, humans have become so fucking spoiled, we literally have it all, and yet, my wide eyes constantly switch from time to time to time to time to time to time to time (yadda yadda).
Thought I almost lost this, I accidentally swiped down and saw my faded blurry IG filter clown face. So with that, i'll end it here, and maybe i'll write some more idk.
Anxiety is apparently in most animals, used to protect oneself from predators and danger in general. It's kind of funny, humans have become so fucking spoiled, we literally have it all, and yet, my wide eyes constantly switch from time to time to time to time to time to time to time (yadda yadda).
Thought I almost lost this, I accidentally swiped down and saw my faded blurry IG filter clown face. So with that, i'll end it here, and maybe i'll write some more idk.
4d ago
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This morning I started to recognise the familiar symptoms of an anxiety attack, that usually leads me to be completely unable to function.
I have my resources and I can handle them (anxiety/panic attacks), even if they cause me an immense amount of pain, both physically and emotionally.
But thereās one thing I was never ever able to do, that people often told me would help: put on comfortable clothes and take a walk, go outside and breathe, get the fuck out of your room. I thought I would never been able to do that, never. āI am not strong enough, it may be good for others, but me? Iām weak, I cannot function, something bad might happen, my body is not my ally in these casesā. I guess I was wrong, and Iām so happy to admit I was wrong.
I said to myself, when those symptoms arised this morning: āok, breathe, itās just the same familiar stuff you know very well. Now, you can deal with it, even if youāre scared. But this time, why donāt you try something different? For just one time, allow yourself to react by moving your body, try to show your mind that there are other ways to deal with thisā. I was scared as fuck, but I did it.
And I discovered another part of myself that I thought wasnāt there. My body, this time, wasnāt against meā¦and maybe it never was, the poor thing was just trying to adapt to the comfort zone that stillness represented.
I am incredibly strong, so much more than what I thought. And if someone needs to hear this: YOU ARE TOO.
Jan 25, 2025
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šYouāve been wanting to hang out with people more. You did the brave thing of asking people to hang out. Now the fear that has kept you from doing this is being super loud. To be expected! Buying into the fear is not going to get you what you want. Each time you act bravely, that part of you grows. What does this anxiety look like? Does the fear look differently? What would happen if you could comfort it?
Do some classic CBT- instead of all the horrible what ifs, what if it goes amazingly well? What if you make a new connection that feeds your soul?
Think of some mantras for yourself. Repeat them over and over. Each time you start to feel anxious, take a nice deep breath (exhale longer than inhale) and remind yourself.
Everything you want is on the other side of fear. And I believe you are brave enough to do it!!
Do some classic CBT- instead of all the horrible what ifs, what if it goes amazingly well? What if you make a new connection that feeds your soul?
Think of some mantras for yourself. Repeat them over and over. Each time you start to feel anxious, take a nice deep breath (exhale longer than inhale) and remind yourself.
Everything you want is on the other side of fear. And I believe you are brave enough to do it!!
Apr 22, 2025
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Or maybe it just feels good to write and this fixation on good vs bad ideas is the thing thatās in the way.
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