Be Kind, Rewind: Why Watching, Reading and Listening on Repeat Provides Comfort for the Anxious

My childhood was a constant stream of anxious energy, and the intestinal turmoil that accompanied my nervous existence made me physically ill as well as emotionally unwell. I remember sleepless nights where I’d spend holding my stomach tight with both arms, and praying that the pain would go away. Sometimes it would cause me so much discomfort that I wouldn’t be able to do the very thing that was causing the anxiety—and if only I had been physically well enough to accomplish that task, the entire reason for it would have ceased to exist.

I didn’t know back then, but it’s so obvious to me now that my heart pangs with grief for the little girl I once was. But she coped in the best way she knew how, and at that time, the only thing that gave that little girl a constant dopamine rush to outweigh the pain was her favorite movies: The Lord of the Rings trilogy.

My anxiety wasn’t diagnosed or treated until I was in college, so I had to make due with the tools available to me. I borrowed, was gifted and finally saved up enough money to own all three movies, and I watched them as if no other movies existed. Not to say that I didn’t like other movies, but nothing gave me that happiness and hope quiet like LotR. I read my Dad’s old copies of the books, loving every page. I listened to the soundtracks on my Walkman, getting goosebumps at all the crescendos.

Many people called it an obsession. I suppose you can call it that if you wish; I sometimes do (see my Tolkien Fandom Interview for more details).

LotR was an important tool in my self-discovery—of the values of who I wanted to be, but also of the reality of who I was, and how I’d need to navigate those paths throughout my life.

KNOWING ALL THE WORDS: SIGNS OF A LARGER PROBLEM

It’s lucky that I was able to find a tool that counteracted the effects of my anxiety so effectively—at least until the credits rolled. If I hadn’t had this “obsession,” I might not have turned out as well-adjusted, and it could even have proved fatal for me. No one body is designed to house so much anxiety. In fact, my doctors at the time were concerned that I had or was going to get stomach ulcers.

So you could say that my ability to cope through the constant repetition of a particular series saved my life.

That’s how I like to think about it, anyway.

But “obsession” was never the problem. The fact that I knew every word to every movie and could tell which scene was playing by the score alone was neither here nor there. The problem was the vast amounts of cortisol rushing through my veins at any given moment, causing my psychological distress, which turned on the alarm signals of stomach upset—which was all ignored. I was known to be a “nervous child,” but even though the mental health industry was not exactly primitive back in the early 2000’s, the issues I had were always considered to be physical. No one thought it was weird for me to have a congenital intestinal issues or to fangirl my way into oblivion. No one thought it was necessary to connect the dots, because the dots were seemingly never connected.

A PREDICTABLE ENDING

The reason that my “obsession” was the best tool for me to use at the time (not that I knew what I was doing, mind you) was the universal truth that…

There is comfort in familiarity.

Once you know what happens in a story, a song, or even things like recipes or games, there is no longer any fear associated with it. And once the fear melts away, we can feel safe. For an anxious T/MI, there is nothing so comforting as the ability to feel safe and secure.

It may seem strange to think that a new movie or trying a new recipe can be scary. It’s obviously not frightening in the same way that going skydiving or swimming with sharks would be, but there is an inherent fear in unpredictability. If we don’t know what’s coming, how do we know we can feel safe?

The unknown can always be a bit scary, just like putting yourself out there and speaking up can be for those with social anxiety. This is why the familiar is so comforting, and trying new things is not always the easiest thing for T/MIs to do.

If someone finds that safety and comfort in a book they’ve read so many times that the binding is coming apart, don’t comment on the fact that they should just move on and find a different book to read. Buy them a new copy of their book and smile with the knowledge that maybe you’ve helped them cope in the only way they know how…

…but don’t be surprised if they keep the old version.

If you have a movie night with someone and they suggest a movie you’ve both seen a hundred times, maybe consider just saying “yes” instead of “we always watch this,” because they need that predictable ending in this moment instead of being jarred into the unfamiliar landscape of a new, unsafe place.

There is always a reason for why someone uses the repeat button, even if they don’t quite understand why they do it. If you can see the relief on their face when you adhere to their wishes, you better believe that whatever you had to sacrifice was worth it.