Binge-Watching Made-for-TV Holiday Movies Might Just Ruin Me—But I’m Not Stopping

“To a certain degree, binge-watching is an enjoyable reprieve from daily life. But when that binge-watching replaces having a life, like it has for me, you may be in trouble.”

image sourced @heartsformillieee

by Sarah duRivage-Jacobs.

It was Thanksgiving, 2018—I was flipping through the channels at a hotel in Maryland looking for something to pass the time. I discovered “The Christmas Contract” on Lifetime, a TV movie priding itself on being a reunion of sorts for “One Tree Hill,” and I was momentarily entertained. When I got back home to New York City, I found the movie on demand and watched it from start to finish. One year later, I’m (perhaps dangerously) hooked on these dumb, saccharine, poorly written made-for-TV holiday movies. And I can’t stop watching them.

Since Thanksgiving of this year, because I find it morally reprehensible to engage with holiday content before then, I started making my way through the never-ending catalogue of new made-for-TV Christmas releases. As a cynical, fat, queer, half-Jewish woman in her thirties, my interest in them fascinated me, so I took to my Instagram to share my reactions with my (limited) following. But what started as an ironic curiosity has transformed into a near obsession that is, in all honesty, having a detrimental effect on my mental health.

How, you may be asking aloud to the screen, could such a silly genre of movies leave any kind of lasting impression? I’m trying to figure that out myself—as well as why I can’t get myself to stop. But what I do know is that submerging myself in a fictional world of magic, cheer, and love all neatly tied up in a bow affects me in two disparate ways. First, on the surface, it gives me the joy and hopefulness that only a truly unrealistic rom-com can. Second, and more importantly, it reminds me just how devoid of romantic joy and hopefulness my own life is right now.

image source @netflix.

There is virtually no one I can relate to in these films, but I can relate to the desire for things to magically work out as they do for the heroines. I mean, how incredible would it be to bump into someone on the street and fall in love with them instantly? Wouldn’t it be amazing to wake up with a full beat and have an unlimited collection of stylish jackets to choose from? Time and money never seem to be obstacles for these women, and they usually have some sort of life-changing career advancement (even if it’s quitting a fancy job to own a small-town bakery) somewhere along the way.

The formulaic nature of these films is obviously part of their appeal—when life is so unpredictable and things rarely go exactly how you want them to, it’s oddly comforting to dive headfirst into a universe where the exact opposite happens. If you’re worried about finding a date for some major event in a few weeks, you’ll end up falling in love within two movie hours. If you’re up for a promotion or unsure about your next professional move, that’ll all be resolved in 120 minutes. In this world, there’s never a question of how things will turn out. Everything happens exactly as the heroine was hoping it would.

Now, for me, this escape into the Lifetime/Hallmark/Netflix utopia is a double-edged sword. I’m obsessive and anxious already, so when I enjoy something, I really enjoy it. Until it stops being practical. In the past two weeks, I’ve watched over 30 of these movies, and it’s not entirely because I want to. Sure, I’ve enjoyed sharing my very not-hot takes on Instagram, but it now feels almost like a compulsion. I choose watching another one oversleeping because I have this irrational fear that I’ll let someone down if I don’t churn out enough new content. (Literally, no one cares, but I digress.)

To a certain degree, binge-watching is an enjoyable reprieve from daily life. But when that binge-watching replaces having a life, like it has for me, you may be in trouble. Instead of going outside my apartment and finding strangers to bump into, I’m sitting on my couch, fully engrossed in whatever Melissa Joan Hart is doing in her latest TV holiday movie. Instead of meeting up with friends or family and enjoying the holidays as they’re meant to be enjoyed, I’m living vicariously through Kyla Pratt’s expert tree decorating. I’m negating any possible chance to experience a fraction of what these former stars do on screen before it even happens.

So why don’t I just stop, now that I realize how potentially problematic this new obsession is? That’s the thing with obsessions—you know just how bad they are for you, but it’s easier to give in than to resist the urges. The tempting siren call of my TV sings to me every morning and stops me from wanting to do anything else. But more than that, I understand that this kind of obsession or addiction is only so dangerous. What’s the worst that could happen—my leg falls asleep or I miss a party that probably isn’t that life-changing to begin with? For now, I’ll stick with my weird habit and hope that life somehow happens to me anyway.

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Sarah duRivage-Jacobs is a freelance writer and editor who lives in New York City with her creamsicle cat, Jasper. When she's not writing words, she's at a karaoke bar scream-singing "Moana" or binge-watching whatever Netflix releases that week (and talking about it on Instagram).