Diary of a Gen Z Student: Spare a thought for those of us dreading Halloween

Jane Cowan in the Shelbourne Hotel, Dublin Photograph Moya Nolan

As I’m sure many regular readers of this column can attest, I am not the most robust of characters. I’m allergic to Christmas trees. I switch to decaf after midday. I can’t sleep if the sheet on my mattress isn’t perfectly fitted.

I believe that some of us were not bred to withstand the hardships of this world. I am one such person. A trying affliction at the best of times. But at this time of year, things reach drastic proportions.

As if the torrential rain and encroaching darkness of October weren’t enough, we’ve got Halloween to contend with. The festival dedicated to scaring the bejaysus out of us all. Halloween is my least favourite time of the year.

As a child, I never got into the whole dressing-up thing. I hated the feeling of face paint, hated scrubbing it off my skin even more. I enjoyed wearing a costume. But having to put a hat and coat over the costume before leaving the house? Not so much. It like… doesn’t go with my costume, Mam… It was always Baltic and rainy as you traipsed around to all the neighbours, being asked to twirl at every door. By the end of the night, I would lie down in a dizzy, sugar-filled heap. Overstimulated by the number of times I was told I had to perform a trick before I would be given a treat.

People would tell us that the best part of Halloween was the free sweets galore. But they never bloody felt free. After a few hours of twirling in the October rain, I felt I was due a few caramel apples for my trouble. I am also part of the generation that got sweets year-round, so the novelty of a Mars bar wasn’t something I ever experienced. I would get home and instantly throw away the peanuts and off-brand sweets; the standards were high.

Worse than trick or treating, however, is our cultural obsession with spooky stuff — something I’ve grown to detest. 

I’ve never even made it through an entire horror movie. I’ll avert my eyes for most of it. And when I’ve come up with a suitable excuse to relieve myself from the horror, I will. I’m an insomniac at the best of times. I don’t need to be replaying scenes of a murderous clown in my head as I attempt to drift to sleep.

Those who don’t find themselves disturbed by a horror film possess mental strength and resilience I envy. I get woozy in glass elevators; I could never be you. I’m no expert but wilfully signing yourself up for trauma? That’s got to be the beginning of psychological collapse.

Believe me, I have tried in earnest to challenge my beliefs on this topic. Last year, I even decided I would conquer my fear of Halloween experiences. I attended Farmaphobia with friends. They were excited about it for weeks in advance, while I was trying to come up with a plausible illness to get out of it.

For those of you lucky enough to not know what Farmaphobia is, it is like a haunted house on steroids. You’ll be chased around a corn field by a guy with a chainsaw. You’ll have clowns twirl their fingers through your hair. You’ll lie down in a drawer in a haunted morgue. And, if you’re like me, you’ll leave feeling nauseous. I should say, I’ve rarely seen my friends so enthusiastic. I would have liked to join in on the excitement if I hadn’t been so preoccupied, what with my life flashing before my eyes.

And don’t get me started on people dressing up to go sweat in nightclubs in town. Shoulder to shoulder with ET and a nun in Copper’s? Hell on Earth, if you ask me. Everywhere is jammed. Everyone is trying to have a wild Halloween night. And it inevitably ends in disaster, with taxis home being ordered for the messiest nuns on the dance floor, before 11pm hits.

When I was eight, I thought trick-or-treating was bad. I looked forward to being an adult who could get away without participating in the festivities. But at least trick-or-treating doesn’t usually end with a trip to A&E.

Anyway, everything is transient. And I’ll probably make it out alive, if I become a recluse until November 1. It’s only eight little days. Merry Christmas everyone!