Featured in Her Campus: Haunted Houses, Trauma Recovery & Mental Health
Blog Post Written by: Michelle Smith LPC, LMHC, LCMHC
HerCampus Media Article Written by: E.V. Beyers
Published: October 21, 2026

Originally featured as a mental health expert in Her Campus’s personal essay, “Quitting Haunted Houses for My Mental Health.”
Can something you once loved become something that no longer feels good for you?
In a recent Her Campus personal essay, a college student reflected on how her relationship with haunted houses changed over time. What once brought excitement and anticipation eventually began to evoke dread, disorientation, and lingering distress. As she reconsidered the tradition, she began to recognize that the experience was no longer supporting her mental health.
I was interviewed for the article as a licensed mental health counselor, sharing clinical insight into how haunted houses and other frightening experiences can affect the brain and nervous system, particularly for people who experience anxiety or trauma-related symptoms.
Her experience highlights an important point: our responses to an experience can change, and we don’t always recognize what those changes are telling us right away.
Let’s explore some of the mental-health concepts behind that experience.
Why haunted houses can trigger a fight-or-flight response
Haunted houses are intentionally designed to activate our fear response. Darkness, unexpected movement, loud noises, graphic imagery, and unpredictable encounters can create an environment in which the brain is continually anticipating a possible threat.
Even when we logically know that the experience is staged, our bodies can still respond to the perceived danger.
As I explained in the Her Campus feature, haunted-house environments can be highly overstimulating, potentially creating sensory overload and activating the body’s fight-or-flight response.
When we perceive a threat, the brain’s threat-detection systems help mobilize us to respond. Our heart rate may increase, our muscles may tense, and our attention may narrow toward identifying danger and finding a way to safety.
These reactions can be useful when we face an actual threat. But in an environment designed to sustain fear, that heightened state can become uncomfortable or overwhelming.
Rather than enjoying the experience, someone may find themselves focused on locating the exit, anticipating the next scare, or getting through the environment as quickly as possible.
The experience may no longer feel playful. It may feel like something to survive.
When your body reacts differently than your logical mind
One of the complexities of anxiety and trauma-related responses is that understanding something intellectually doesn’t always change how your body responds.
You might know that the frightening figure approaching you is an actor. You might understand that the sounds and images are part of a performance. Yet your body can still react as though you need to protect yourself.
During a heightened threat response, it can become more difficult to access the parts of our thinking that support flexible problem-solving, perspective-taking, and emotional regulation.
This doesn’t mean that the logical part of the brain completely shuts down. Rather, the brain prioritizes responding to what it perceives as a potential threat, which can make it harder to pause, assess the situation, and settle our reactions.
For people who already experience heightened anxiety or trauma-related symptoms, an environment built around repeated scares may feel particularly intense.
And the effects don’t necessarily end the moment the experience is over. Some people may continue feeling keyed up, unsettled, or on edge afterward.
Recognizing this response can help us understand why telling ourselves to simply relax or remember that we’re safe doesn’t always work.
Sometimes, our nervous system needs time and support to settle.
Understanding triggers isn’t always straightforward
We often imagine that we know exactly what will upset us, what will make us anxious, and what situations we can comfortably navigate.
But our reactions can be more complicated than that.
In the Her Campus article, the writer described how the elements of haunted houses that once felt thrilling gradually began to feel disorienting and threatening. Her experience was also influenced by hearing loss, the sensory demands of the environment, and the changing way she experienced personal safety as she grew older.
Her story illustrates why we cannot always separate an emotional response from the context in which it occurs.
For some people, graphic imagery, simulated violence, being chased, sudden noises, or unpredictable physical proximity may bring up distressing associations or trauma-related responses. For others, sensory sensitivities or accessibility needs may make an environment difficult to navigate.
Not everyone who dislikes haunted houses has experienced trauma, and not every uncomfortable reaction is a trauma response. We each bring different experiences, needs, and sensitivities into the environments we encounter.
Sometimes, it takes reflection to recognize that an activity is affecting us differently than it used to.
That awareness isn’t a failure. It’s information.
You don’t have to keep doing something because you used to enjoy it
There can be a surprising amount of pressure to remain the person we once were.
Maybe you used to love crowded parties but now find them exhausting. Perhaps you once enjoyed scary movies, but they leave you feeling unsettled for days. Or maybe you used to say yes to every invitation, only to realize that your needs and priorities have changed.
It can be tempting to interpret these changes as weakness, avoidance, or a loss of confidence.
But personal growth doesn’t require us to maintain every preference, tradition, or activity indefinitely.
There is an important distinction between avoiding something because anxiety has narrowed your life in ways you don’t want and intentionally choosing not to participate in an experience that doesn’t align with your current needs.
Sometimes, gradually approaching a feared situation can help us build confidence and flexibility. In other circumstances, stepping away is a reasonable decision that respects our well-being.
The goal isn’t to avoid every uncomfortable feeling. It’s to understand what you’re experiencing and make intentional decisions rather than automatically pushing through or retreating out of fear.
You can acknowledge that something once brought you joy while also recognizing that it no longer feels right for you.
Both things can be true.
What this teaches us about self-trust
Learning to recognize our emotional and physical responses can help us make decisions that better reflect our needs.
Instead of immediately judging yourself for feeling anxious, consider getting curious about the experience.
Ask yourself:
What am I noticing in my body right now?
Is this discomfort connected to something I value and want to work toward, or am I feeling pressured to participate?
What about this situation feels difficult?
What would help me feel safer, more supported, or better able to make a decision?
Am I allowing myself to acknowledge that my needs may have changed?
These questions are not meant to diagnose a trauma response or encourage you to avoid anything that feels uncomfortable. They’re an opportunity to slow down and understand your experience before deciding what to do next.
Self-trust develops when we learn to take our internal experiences seriously without allowing every feeling to dictate our choices.
We can feel anxious and still move toward something meaningful. We can recognize a genuine limit and choose to honor it. We can also change our minds as we learn more about ourselves.
When these patterns show up beyond Halloween
The same questions can be useful in other areas of life, especially as the holiday season approaches.
Family gatherings, difficult relationships, grief, loneliness, and the pressure to maintain traditions can all bring up complicated feelings.
You might feel obligated to attend an event that leaves you emotionally drained. You might struggle with the expectation that you should feel happy when you’re missing someone. Or you may notice old family dynamics affecting you in ways you didn’t anticipate.
Just as our relationship with haunted houses can change, our relationship with traditions and relationships can evolve over time.
You can care about your family while setting boundaries. You can appreciate the holidays while acknowledging that they’re difficult. And you can decide that a familiar tradition needs to look different this year.
If you find yourself repeatedly overriding your needs, experiencing persistent anxiety, or struggling with trauma-related symptoms, working with a qualified mental health professional can help you explore those patterns and develop strategies that support your well-being.
You don’t have to figure everything out on your own.
Featured in Her Campus
I was grateful to contribute clinical insight to the Her Campus personal essay “Quitting Haunted Houses for My Mental Health,” which explores one writer’s changing relationship with haunted houses and the decision to step away from a tradition that no longer felt right for her.
The piece offers a thoughtful look at how our experiences, perceptions of safety, and mental-health needs can change over time.
If this topic resonates with you, I hope it serves as a reminder that understanding yourself isn’t about forcing yourself to feel the way you used to. It’s about making room for what you experience now and deciding how you want to respond.
Interested in exploring your own patterns, anxiety responses, or trauma recovery?
I offer virtual, private-pay therapy for adults and couples in Florida, New Hampshire, Oklahoma, and Oregon. Visit michellesmithlmhc.com to learn more about my services and schedule a free consultation.
Michelle Smith, LPC, LMHC, LCMHC, is a licensed mental health counselor and certified clinical hypnotherapist specializing in trauma recovery.
Warmly,
Michelle Smith, LPC, LMHC, LCMHC
Virtual Therapy in Florida, New Hampshire, Oklahoma, and Oregon

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