Catharsis & Why We Need Intense Stories to Heal

I love stories—all stories. Whether it’s a heartbreaking drama, a pulse-pounding horror film, or a gut-wrenching tragedy, stories have a unique power. They move us, shake us up, and—maybe most importantly—they help us heal. One of the most incredible ways they do this is through catharsis: that deep emotional release we feel when a story hits us right in the soul.

Catharsis isn’t new. The ancient Greeks knew all about it, using theater to stir up intense emotions so audiences could process them safely. Today, we still experience that same powerful release, just through different mediums. Think about it: how often have you cried during a movie and somehow felt better afterward? Or watched a horror film that left you breathless, but also strangely relieved?

That’s catharsis in action.

Some people worry that dark or tragic stories might reinforce negativity. But I’d argue the opposite. Stories that explore fear, grief, or despair actually give us a safe way to feel those things. Take horror, for example. It isn’t just about scares. At their best, a horror film is deeply symbolic. Films like The Babadook or Get Out aren’t just scary for the sake of it. They’re metaphors, and powerful ones at that. These stories take overwhelming, often unspoken emotions about nebulous themes and externalize them. They give us something we can see and feel—a place where we can point to something and release.

Even epic tragedies and disaster films, like Titanic or The Green Mile, help us explore themes like loss, injustice, and mortality. They offer a container for emotions we might otherwise avoid or suppress.

Apocalypse stories, in particular, hold so much value in times of uncertainty. Take Station Eleven, for example. Released during the pandemic, this stunning series (based on Emily St. John Mandel’s novel) wasn't just about destruction. It was about beauty. Resilience. Art. It reminded us that even in the darkest times, humanity continues. Stories survive. Love and creativity persist.

For many, watching Station Eleven wasn’t depressing, it was healing. It gave us a way to process our own fears about isolation, loss, and change. And it reminded us that hope is always part of the equation.

And let’s not forget: stories bring us together. Whether we’re watching in a packed theater, curled up on the couch, or discussing in a book club, we’re creating a shared emotional experience. A journey. A reminder that we’re not alone in our fears or grief or healing.

I believe all stories are powerful. The intense ones. The scary ones. The tragic ones. They each have a role in our healing and growth. Sure, it may feel healing to take a break from the stresses of the world with something light and escapist. There's value in that too! But sometimes, the only way to process something we can’t put into words is to feel it through a story. And when we do, we walk away a little lighter. A little freer. A little more connected to ourselves.

So go ahead. Watch the tearjerker. Dive into that spooky film. Lose yourself in an epic tragedy. Let the story take you on a journey. And when it’s over, see what’s shifted inside you.

Because stories aren’t just entertainment. They’re medicine for the soul.

The Story Beneath the Symbols in Horror

These films all use powerful symbols to convey deep emotional and societal fears, from trauma and grief to isolation and control. Each story, in its own way, presents a mirror to our darkest collective anxieties, urging us to confront the terrors lurking in the corners of our minds.

The Babadook (2014)

This isn’t just a monster movie—it’s a deeply emotional metaphor for grief and repressed trauma. The shadowy creature haunting a mother and her son represents her unresolved sorrow over her husband’s death, showing how unprocessed grief can consume us until we face it.

Get Out (2017)

Get Out uses horror to expose the insidious nature of racism, particularly how Black people are often objectified and exploited by white society. The film’s tension mirrors the real-life anxiety of navigating spaces where hidden dangers lurk beneath polite facades.

The Exorcist (1973)

More than just a terrifying tale of demonic possession, The Exorcist delves into the struggle between faith and doubt, good and evil. The film's central symbol—the possession of a young girl—represents the loss of innocence and the overwhelming power of darkness. The exorcism itself symbolizes the battle for spiritual purity and the lengths people will go to restore balance. The film confronts the fear of the unknown, the terror of losing control over one's body and mind, and the haunting presence of evil that lingers even in the most sacred places.

Dawn of the Dead (1978)

Dawn of the Dead isn’t just about zombies—it’s a sharp critique of consumerism and societal collapse. The mall, which serves as the film's central setting, symbolizes the mindless, repetitive nature of modern life. The zombies, trapped in an endless cycle of desire, reflect humanity’s mindless consumption and inability to break free from the structures that enslave us. The film asks important questions about survival, morality, and the collapse of civilization, using the grotesque imagery of the undead to highlight our own vulnerabilities.

Friday the 13th (1980)

On the surface, Friday the 13th is a slasher film, but beneath the blood and gore, it explores themes of vengeance, trauma, and the cyclical nature of violence. The infamous Jason Voorhees, masked and unrelenting, represents the repressed trauma of a mother's grief, a vengeance that never dies. The summer camp setting symbolizes innocence lost and the hidden dangers lurking just beneath the surface of suburban life. The film's relentless killing spree is a metaphor for how past sins haunt us, often in ways we can’t predict.

Halloween (1978)

Halloween is a masterclass in creating tension and fear through the unseen. Michael Myers, the seemingly indestructible force of evil, represents the primal fear of the unknown—an incomprehensible threat with no motive, no explanation. The film plays with the theme of stalking and predation, creating an atmosphere where safety is an illusion, and danger is always lurking just out of sight. Laurie Strode, the final girl, represents purity and survival, while Myers is the embodiment of evil that cannot be reasoned with or escaped.

Poltergeist (1982)

More than a haunted house story, Poltergeist taps into the fear of losing control over one's environment and the invasion of personal space. The film’s ghostly manifestations symbolize the lingering effects of unresolved trauma and the disruption of family life. The television set, an early symbol of mass media, is both a literal and figurative portal, showing how technology can draw us into a realm of the unknown, often without us even realizing it. At its core, Poltergeist is about the fragility of family bonds and the terrifying power of the supernatural that can tear them apart.

The Shining (1980)

Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining is a psychological horror film that explores the fragility of the human mind and the destructive power of isolation. The Overlook Hotel symbolizes the past—haunted by both literal and figurative ghosts. Jack Torrance’s descent into madness, fueled by isolation and his own personal demons, represents the danger of unresolved trauma and the loss of control. The supernatural elements, such as the ghosts and visions, serve as metaphors for Jack’s deteriorating mental state and his need to confront his own darkness.

It (2017)

Based on Stephen King's novel, It is a powerful exploration of childhood trauma and the monsters that emerge from it. Pennywise the Dancing Clown symbolizes fear itself—shifting and adapting to the worst nightmares of those it encounters. The film’s central theme revolves around confronting your fears, both as an individual and as a collective. The Losers' Club, united by shared trauma and experiences of bullying, represents the strength of friendship and support in overcoming darkness. The film emphasizes that fear loses its power when we face it together.

Nosferatu (1922)

Nosferatu, one of the earliest examples of horror cinema, is a haunting exploration of the fear of the "other." The vampire, Count Orlok, represents the encroaching foreign threat—both physical and psychological. His pale, insect-like appearance evokes fear of disease and death, while his ability to manipulate and control others speaks to the fear of loss of autonomy. The film explores themes of paranoia, isolation, and the unseen terror that lurks just beyond our understanding, all while maintaining a deeply unsettling atmosphere of dread.

Rosemary's Baby (1968)

Rosemary’s Baby isn’t just about a woman carrying the Antichrist—it’s a chilling look at the fear of losing control over one’s own body and life. Rosemary, trapped in a patriarchal system, is manipulated and gaslit by those around her, representing the exploitation of women and the violation of their autonomy. The film’s central symbol—the pregnancy—becomes a vessel for fear of the unknown, of being unable to trust anyone, and of the terror of being trapped in a situation from which there is no escape. The film asks the viewer to question who has power over their lives and bodies.

It's not just Horror!

Titanic (1997) isn’t just a love story; it’s a tragic meditation on class disparity, fate, and impermanence. The doomed romance of Jack and Rose highlights the stark divide between privilege and struggle, making the loss all the more devastating.
The Green Mile (1999) explores themes of injustice, cruelty, and the supernatural power of compassion. John Coffey’s story serves as a heartbreaking allegory for racial injustice and the failures of the legal system, while also offering a glimpse into the healing potential of human connection.