Some of us think laughter is the best medicine, some of us believe being wound up for 60-plus minutes is the perfect way to ease into a night of restful sleep.

On the surface, people often think that folks who enjoy horror are at best, looking for safe thrills on the safety of their couch, and at worst, are just weirdos who like blood, gore, human-alien-insect hybrid babies and shouldn’t be part of civilized society. To these people we would like to say: a part-fly-part-man creature wanting to converge with his partner and unborn child is romantic on film, but in real life, we might swipe left.

So that leads to the next assumption: horror is escapism. Why yes, it is. For a couple of hours, we forget the very tangible troubles of our own lives and instead appreciate the fact that the people we live with are too smart to hang on to a creepy doll which some crazy cult lady held while committing suicide.

Horror also allows us to really immerse ourselves in worlds with situations that could probably never touch us. It makes us feel safe, even grateful for our boring little lives.

But the thing is: isn’t all horror simply about survival? Whether we’re fighting zombies or running from a guy with a chainsaw or trying to convince someone the house is haunted, the nanny is a serial killer, their mother is actually a Sumatran Rat-Monkey, we are, along with the characters we are so invested in simply trying to survive.

If you think about it, there is hardly ever a character in a horror movie or show who doesn’t fight for their life. They all want to make it to the end. Or to help the people they’re with make it to the end. To leave something behind, to allow humanity and humankind to progress; to create some sort of legacy.

In the last couple of years, we’ve come to an amazing global juncture in life where we’re forced to survive by doing nothing. We have watched more screen than we ever thought possible, we have started identifying more with the isolation and desolation of characters we watch on that screen, and we have developed a lust for life, that frankly, had gone missing when we were living it.

The art being presented to us reflects this. To reiterate, horror is often about survival, but a bittersweet edge is more than visible in some of the most popular shows recently.

Mike Flanagan’s Midnight Mass sees a whole community bow down to the promise of better health, a youthful existence, and second chances. Flanagan’s vision, though delightfully macabre, always gives way to some kind of warm affirmation. Whether you watch Before I Wake or one of the Haunting Of… shows, you won’t walk away feeling upset. You will feel weirdly uplifted.

Midnight Mass has the same effect. While it does touch upon the pitfalls of blind faith, and it does remind us how far some would go to survive, it also reminds us of how we are a drop in the ocean, part of something so much bigger. It also is the show you started watching because Flanagan is an excellent director, and terrible things on screen are guaranteed, but reach the end crying, because you did not sign up for such poignance.

The other show everyone who likes the genre has watched almost immediately is Archive 81. While it is incredibly creepy and keeps one guessing, somehow, the heart of the show isn’t about what horrible things can be done to people. Ultimately, season 1 works its way to human connection, empathy, and a strong belief in putting things right.

Even a show as bizarre – but very entertaining – as Brand New Cherry Flavor with all the regurgitated kittens and maggot infestations, eventually speaks to the experience of being a woman. You can have all the fire you need within you to succeed, but there will always be people ready to extinguish it if you irk them. It really is a great, fun story, but one angle, should you choose to see it, can comically point to the lengths women will have to go to be taken seriously.

If you have decided that horror is strictly for nutjobs and sickos, reconsider. Look beyond the splattered blood, the suits of human skin, the disfigured faces and floating apparitions. Think about why horror always aptly – albeit most curiously – mirrors global events, and venture into one of the most delightful genres of storytelling.