Perils of enjoying horror fiction?

Sometimes I am embarrassed about being a horror fan. Not because the genre produces writing of any lesser quality than other forms of fiction, although some may argue that is true, but because the content is disturbing.  Does this say something about me? Maybe there is a certain degree of deviance or darkness lurking deep within. I know some of my in-laws think this way. That is, I am bringing something unholy or unhealthy into my life. These very loving and well-meaning people would likely want to pray over me if given the opportunity. Other times, I think people are seeing me as somehow less sophisticated, and I can almost read their minds as they scoff at my reading or viewing habits.  “Why waste your time on this crap when there are so many good things to read or watch?”

Am I wasting my time? God, I hope not. I enjoy the thrills and the ratcheting suspense. Ironically, I am not a believer in the paranormal. I don’t sense any impending danger by being enthralled by the frightening.  As a psychologist, I am all too aware of things that frighten and disturb people (and, quite frankly, the things that disturb and frighten me) and none of them involve the supernatural. There are too many real life events that can send us into a panic. No need to manufacture the impossible.

Yet, there is that sense of embarrassment. But, at 59 years of age, I don’t see the need to change it at this stage of the game. Still…