The Brain Loves a Good Scare
Why Fear Feels Fun When We Know We’re Safe
RICK GRIFFIN OCT 28, 2025
Last October, I took my son Torin and one of his friends to a haunted house. You know the ones where you know the actors can’t touch you, but your nervous system didn’t get that memo. My heart was hammering, my palms were slick, and every flicker of light made my shoulders jump.
At one point, Torin grabbed my arm out of nowhere and yelled, and I just about came out of my skin. I started to laugh. Not a nervous laugh or an I am too cool to be scared laugh. It was a full “this-is-ridiculous” kind of laugh. The kind that says, “I’m terrified, but I’m okay.”
That’s the strange magic of fear when it’s safe. It’s not just entertainment. It’s a workout for your nervous system.
I say it all the time, the brain loves prediction. It spends every waking moment guessing what’s about to happen, then adjusting when it’s wrong. A haunted house is like a prediction carnival. You know something’s coming, but not when or where. Your brain gets to practice being wrong without any real-world cost. That thud behind you is a harmless prop. That scream from the next room is just part of the script.
Each time your heart rate spikes, your brain learns how to regulate the surge and settle back down.
Dr. Lisa Feldman Barrett (you had to know I was going to work her in to this blog) would call it “body-budget training.” You spend a little emotional energy, then recover. You make a withdrawal from your safety account, then deposit calm right back in. Over time, that rhythm of activate, regulate, restore is very helpful. It teaches your system that not every jolt means danger.
Now, some people would say you should never scare a person with a trauma history. That they’ve been through enough, and we should protect them from any kind of shock or surprise. That comes from compassion, but it’s only part of the story. Yes, there are times when a trigger can overwhelm the system. There are absolutely moments when safety and gentleness matter most. AND, here’s where being Neuro-Informed adds something that Trauma-Informed alone can’t.
Neuro-Informed practice recognizes that even if someone has lived through trauma, their brain is still predicting what’s next, not just replaying the past. That means it can learn, adapt, and rewire. The goal isn’t to avoid every potential trigger. It’s to help the brain update its predictions so it stops expecting danger where there isn’t any. Fear doesn’t have to trap you in the past; it can become a rehearsal for resilience.
A jump scare in a haunted house might sound silly, but it’s a miniature version of what healing can look like. You feel the rush, your body flares up, and then you realize that you’re safe. That moment of re-prediction is gold. It’s the brain saying, “Wait, maybe the world isn’t as dangerous as I thought.”
That’s the twist most people miss: fear isn’t the enemy of safety. Think of it as the playground for prediction. When your brain gets to flirt with fear, it builds confidence in its ability to recover. You learn you can face uncertainty, feel your heart race, and still find your way back to calm.
So the next time you jump during a scary movie, don’t roll your eyes at yourself. That jolt of adrenaline is your nervous system in training. You’re strengthening your ability to stay steady in a world full of surprises.
A good scare, it turns out, isn’t about fear at all. It’s about trust. Your brain trusts that you can predict, recover, and laugh your way through it. So a little fear is not just about having fun. It’s resilience in disguise.
And you know what would really be scary? Not the haunted house, not the jump scares, not even Torin grabbing my arm out of nowhere. What would truly send chills down my spine is if I’m writing these pieces and no one’s actually reading them. So do me a favor; if this one made you think, smile, or roll your eyes in that “okay, he’s got a point” kind of way, share it with a colleague or a friend. Let’s keep the conversation going. The only thing worse than being scared alone is learning alone.
