Horror movies make me queasy. I still watch them to bond with my teenage daughter.

• I truly don't like horror movies, but my teenage daughter loves them.
• When she asked me to go to the movies to see a slasher movie I said yes, despite my fears.

"Do you want to see the new Michael Myers movie with me?" my teenage daughter asked.

"Michael Myers?" I thought. "The masked murderer in those 'Halloween' movies? Yikes!"

"Uh…" I stammered.

I flashed back to my formative experience with horror movies. I was in the sixth grade when I saw my first scary movie. It was inadvertent during a trip to the movies with friends, one of whom was celebrating her 12th birthday. For some reason — I blame it on the 1980s — her parents paid for us to see an R-rated slasher movie.

I was so frightened watching body parts get severed and teenagers run for their lives in the woods. I never wanted to see a horror movie again.

Fast forward a few years later, I found myself in high school when Freddy Krueger and his razor hands were all the rage. I spent countless sleepovers huddled under blankets and covering my eyes while my friends played the "Nightmare on Elm Street" movies on their VCRs. The movies made my stomach lurch, and that screeching sound as Freddy dragged his razor hands across the walls still haunts me.

"Mom?" my daughter asked, bringing me back to the present.

"S-u-u-u-u-re," I choked out. Her eyes lit up.

All I wanted was to spend time with her

What had I done? Was I weak? A hypocrite? Confused?

Nope, I was just a mom looking to spend time with her teenage daughter. I mean, she asked me to go to the movies with her instead of asking her friends. You know, the friends she grabs coffee and gets pedicures with — the things she and I used to do together but she now does with her pals.

Yes, I disliked horror movies. But I loved spending time with my teen.

To mentally prepare myself for our outing, I searched the internet for a synopsis of the movie — as well as a body count. I also searched the web for reassurance that my daughter's affinity for horror movies was normal. She had taken a liking to this genre recently, and I wanted to check she wasn't on pace to morph into a murderous maniac.

What I found was reassuring — and enlightening. Research from the Recreational Fear Lab at Aarhus University has indicated that more than half of us enjoy horror movies. Obviously, I'm in the part that does not. The researchers have theorized that scary movies provide a safe space in which to practice managing fear and anxiety. They even found that horror movie fans reported less psychological distress during the pandemic lockdowns than those who didn't like scary movies because all that practice with fear had made them more psychologically resilient.

That sounded almost healthy to me. But it did nothing to relieve my own anxiety as the day of our movie date arrived.

It made me happy to see her enjoy the movie

My teen and I sat in the dark while the eerie music played and the creepy villain rampaged across the screen. When I wasn't covering my eyes to keep my stomach from roiling, I was stealing glances at my daughter. She was having fun being scared. And it made me happy in the middle of a fictional blood fest to watch her having fun.

We were sharing a moment watching that horror movie — a gory moment, but a moment, nonetheless.

Something surprising happened after the movie, too. As we discussed the story, relived the most frightening parts, and celebrated the ultimate triumph of good over evil in the end, we made plans to watch another horror movie together.

We have since watched numerous scary flicks, working our way through the "Halloween" and "Scream" series. We checked out several "Friday the 13th" installments and devoured "A Quiet Place," "Ready or Not," and "Get Out." Our horror-movie hobby has been interesting, disgusting, and memorable all at once.

I can't say I've become a die-hard fan of horror movies, and I definitely won't watch some of the bloodier thrillers with her. Still, I am a fan of spending time with my daughter, enjoying something she enjoys. There's nothing scary about that.