Childhood is a fleeting moment in our lives, yet adulthood stretches out for decades. We have so many years to learn how to be an adult, but so little time to enjoy being a kid. Like a shooting star, we don’t often get the chance to admire its full beauty before it’s out of sight. There are certain things we might have missed out on as children that we lament in the present. We hear anecdotes from our friends and think “Wow, I never got the chance to do something like that” or “I would have never been allowed to do that.” Our worldview evolves every day, but the adults that raised us had a big influence on our initial reactions. Growing up religious, I was morally obligated to avoid many things for the sake of ensuring my ‘salvation’. Amongst these experiences that I missed out on, Halloween felt like a huge loss for me.
My relationship with Halloween has always been complicated. As a child, I was taught that salvation was not given but earned, and that I would have to prove myself every day in order to be ‘saved’. I stressed more over being on my best behavior for the second coming of Christ than I did about finishing my math homework. It was like preparing for an oral presentation with no due date. Interacting with the world was extremely difficult for me because I had this constant awareness that so many things my peers indulged in were seen as tainted. You can imagine the terror that settled in my bones whenever the October arrived. Stores decorated with all kinds of monsters, costumes in every corner, and even the wrappers of my favorite candy would change. Every channel would play scary movies. The shows I liked always got a Halloween episode. Most of my elementary school experience was in a Christian academy, so anyone expressing excitement over this holiday and any trace of it would be singled out and scolded.
I have no doubts that my struggles with anxiety stem from the shame I felt whenever I wished to do anything that went against those religious beliefs. I struggled with wanting to watch a Halloween movie and always asked my mother if I could finally go trick-or-treating. I knew that my requests were seen as wrong, but I always wanted to try and be a part of something new. Many times, I questioned if there was something wrong with me. Why did I want to participate? Why did I get so happy whenever ABC Family (currently known as Freeform) announced their programming for 13 Nights of Halloween? I get so angry now when I think about a child wondering if they’re an evil person just because they wanted to celebrate a holiday. It had been normalized for me to interrogate myself out of shame, but the line was drawn at dressing up like Hannah Montana for a night.
When I started going to public school in fifth grade, I was in for quite the shock. Prior to this, I had only navigated through educational spaces where everyone had been raised with the same religious values as me. When October inevitably reared its spooky head, I was stunned at the way students were encouraged to dress up in costumes for Halloween. You would think I had a full head of gray hair with the way I was clutching my pearls at such traditions. It felt mean to think that they would all be punished in the ‘afterlife’ when they looked so happy. Of course, most of my behavior during this time was performative; I was a true actress dedicated to the role she was given. My jealousy at the freedom my classmate didn’t know they had was enough to fuel my façade, considering that was their normal. They probably had scrapbooks filled with their Halloween adventures full of fond memories they must have had on all those Halloween nights.
I have memories, too. I remember closing the curtains in our living room and turning off all the lights so the trick-or-treaters wouldn’t knock on our door. I can still feel the guilt that would trouble me even as my mom started allowing us to watch scary movies. I can’t forget to mention the rush of buying Halloween candy on sale during November 1st, while also struggling to explain to my new friends how I had no stories to tell about the night before. I never really enjoyed these small moments because I was terrified that they would lead to big consequences. I had so many fears that only became worse when this holiday arrived, because I was excited. I wanted to help pick out costumes, pretend to be a witch with my friends, hand out candy with my parents, and consume media without worrying about it taking a toll on my soul.
Once I gained independence in terms of what I truly thought, instead of what I was raised to think, it was easy to get angry. In the pursuit of ‘salvation’, a golden star from the Man upstairs, my childhood and early teens had been strained. Even fun had to be strategically planned because I had to make sure what I was doing had not been a discussion point at Sunday service. It’s not that I never experienced happiness. It was so taxing to try and live in the moment. It was like I was waiting for judgement at any secondー never being truly present and always stuck in my own head. It was healthy to confront my anger as it helped me learn what I needed to mend in order to heal.
The first time I dressed up for Halloween, I was 20 years old. It might seem silly, but no one really invited me to do anything to celebrate because I was always so skittish when this holiday came around. I felt light on my feet as I made multiple trips to the mall trying to piece a costume together at the last minute. I had so many years and ideas to make up for. My friends don’t really understand how happy they made my inner child, the wannabe trick-or-treater that went to bed early every October 31st. We stayed out all night, complimenting others on what they were wearing and just having fun. Sure, I didn’t get to fill a plastic pumpkin head with potential cavities, but the sense of shame that had followed me like a dark cloud had finally lifted.
To some people, Halloween continues to be a holiday that glorifies evil on Earth. They warn their kids about it and go so far as to instill a fear that will inevitably have a lasting effect on them. I can’t really control that. I had no say when it happened to me, and Halloween is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to unlearning and finding new ways to exist at an older age. To gain trust in my choices and view the world through my own eyes. Spooky season will forever be a comfort for me. It somehow always was, even when I was too scared to admit it. It’s true that I’m too old to go door-to-door asking for candy. The thought of kid me and her struggles will always hurt my heart, but I will always have time to figure out who I want to be and how I want to embrace life on my own terms.