Strong. Fighting. Surviving.

There are so many things to love about Halloween - candy, costumes, jack-o-lanterns, more candy - we all have our reasons. This year, while stumbling through our local haunted forest, it occurred to me why I love Halloween. While the mutilated bodies terrified me, I couldn’t help thinking how nice (almost refreshing) it was to be scared by something I knew wouldn’t kill me. Admittedly, I was petrified while being chased by a masked man with a chainsaw, but I knew I wasn’t in any real danger.

At one point, we had to pass through a dark tunnel with bodies hanging from the ceiling. My legs, already wobbly, refused to move. My husband was behind me, encouraging me to go in by myself. Surely if I had the strength to face cancer, I was strong enough to go through the tunnel by myself. I’m not exactly sure what happened next - the strobe light was very disorienting and there were ghoulish faces coming at me from every direction. I think the analogy is obvious, but sufficed to say that I feel a little braver for having made it through the tunnel, even though I covered my eyes for most of it.

The rest of the haunted forest was a blast - I tripped countless times, completely fell down once, and screamed until I became hoarse (I found out that screaming can be very therapeutic). The best part of all was the fact that I was physically and emotionally drained afterwards and slept soundly for the first time in months. Perhaps I should add some horror movies to my Netflix queue. Any recommendations?