I was 12 the first time I visited a haunted house, and nine years later, I still remember the excited anticipation in my stomach that night.
I was giddy when the zombie nurse scanned my ticket and even giddier as I filed into a dimly lit room decorated to look like a butcher’s shop. By the time a man with a chainsaw chased me out of the exit 30 minutes later, I was full of adrenaline and grinning from ear-to-ear.
For the next seven years, haunted houses were an indispensable part of my Halloween celebration. I’d visit at least one a year, though more often two or three — sometimes all in the same night, driving up to two hours to wait in line for the chance to be scared. I sampled it all: haunted houses, haunted hospitals, haunted mazes. I encountered all manner of monster: clowns and werewolves, dentists and surgeons, chefs and undertakers.
My freshman year of college was the first time since my preteen years that I didn’t attend a haunted house. At the time, the decision was purely financial. As a full-time student with part-time income, it was an economic no-brainer. When my sophomore year rolled around, it still wasn’t in the budget, so I skipped the tradition once again.
Fast-forward to this year, my junior year, when I thought about getting back into a haunted house: Instead of buzzing with adrenaline, I felt cold dread. This is what finally made me realize that breaking my haunted house streak since going to college hasn’t been a fluke — this is my new pattern.
But why? I wondered, What’s changed? And so, I took a close look at my relationship with haunted houses and realized they’re actually pretty bad for my mental health… and have been for a while. To better understand this revelation, I spoke with licensed mental health counselor Michelle Smith.
“Research shows that engaging in activities such as going to haunted houses, watching scary movies, and other scare activities tend to exacerbate existing mental health conditions such as anxiety, trauma responses, and more,” says Smith. “These haunted house environments tend to be highly overstimulating and can create a sensory overload for the brain to trigger a ‘fight or flight’ response.”
This was certainly true for me. In hindsight, I realize that in recent years, instead of glancing around each shrouded corner, ready to be surprised, I navigated haunted houses with a single-minded focus: getting out on the other side. When I was with friends more scared than I, I took it upon myself to act as the leader, guiding us through — taking the brunt of the scares with the goal of getting my friends out safely. In these situations, my body was unable to recognize that these situations were fictional. I felt a real pressure on my shoulders, the pressure to deliver us all from harm.
I hadn’t wanted to admit it, but the sense of danger had heightened from fun to hazardous.
The ‘flight’ impulse was only intensified by — if not triggered by — my hearing loss, something I’ve lived with for most of my life. Even when I haven’t wanted to acknowledge it, my residual hearing loss has influenced how I interact with the world. When common haunted house fixtures like dark rooms and strobe lights affected my sight, my ears couldn’t compensate, especially when there were loud noises. I’d wander around the haunted house dizzy and disoriented. I’d get clumsy and confused. I hadn’t wanted to admit it, but the sense of danger had heightened from fun to hazardous.
“During this response, our amygdala, the fear based center of the brain, becomes over active. At the same time, this turns down our ability to utilize our pre-frontal cortex, the area of the brain that helps us recognize logic, problem solve, utilize emotional regulation or executive functioning skills and more,” Smith says. “The extended period of time within a haunted house also brings the nervous system to a heightened state for a longer period, making it hard for the body to settle perhaps even hours or even days after you leave.”
I also came to realize that the most disturbing elements of the haunted houses would follow me home, into my dreams, and often into my life for the next few days. Over time, I began associating only these experiences with haunted houses — the pit in my stomach, the sense of dread, distrust for the other strangers in the dark. Meanwhile, the genuinely enjoyable parts — holding my friends’ hands, feeling my heart race, the adrenaline at the other end — faded into the background.
Smith has an answer for this as well. “Graphic images, violence, blood, and the scare actors you may run into in a haunted house can be incredible triggers for folks with PTSD or complex trauma,” Smith says. “Sometimes we are unaware of what may trigger those old trauma responses to show up, so it can be a dangerous situation for those who already experience heightened anxiety or trauma as well.”
No matter how much I tried to return to the childhood glee I’d felt, the adult me couldn’t find comfort in these situations.
I thought I knew my mental health triggers well. However, as I got older, I realized there were more to uncover. Growing up meant growing into the identity — and body — of a woman. Suddenly, the thought of being chased by broad, tall men in blood-soaked clothes wasn’t a pulse-racing thrill, but the physical embodiment of a real, engrained fear many women experience every day in real life.
And, unlike when I was a child visiting haunted houses, there were no longer adults to serve as a buffer between me and the fear. When I was young, I felt safe winding through the haunted house with my aunt. When I was a teenager attending haunted houses with friends my own age, I felt as though my armor had been stripped away. My soft underbelly was exposed. No matter how much I tried to return to the childhood glee I’d felt, the adult me couldn’t find comfort in these situations. It was just too real.
Of course, hindsight is 20/20, so I don’t hold it against myself for not being able to see the signs earlier. I don’t blame myself for misinterpreting the weight in my stomach as excitement instead of dread. But now that I do know, the decision is simple: I won’t be visiting any haunted houses this year.
As much fun as I used to have, I’m comfortable acknowledging that my current self needs something different this Halloween season. So, while I’ll be saying goodbye to the haunted house explorer I once was, I’m ready to say hello to the healthier, haunted-house avoider I’ve become.