For years, I had an insatiable appetite for violent films. The more brutal, the better. I watched movies filled with action, bloodshed, and revenge without a second thought. Only once did I come across a film so disturbing that I vowed never to recommend it to anyone. And I’ve honored that vow.
But something changed and became clearer as I explored it with my coach. In the past few years, my tolerance for on-screen violence has dropped dramatically. Now, I either avoid it altogether or, something I never did before, find myself covering my eyes.
What Changed?
I attribute this shift to one major factor:
A Decade of Practicing Somatic Awareness
Somatic awareness has fundamentally reshaped how I experience the world. By tuning into my body’s subtle cues—my breath, tension patterns, emotional shifts—I’ve developed a deeper sensitivity to my nervous system’s responses. It is one of the foundations I teach my clients.
This changed how I relate to violent content. What once felt thrilling now feels unsettling and disturbing. The more connected I am to my own internal experience, the less appealing these adrenaline-driven narratives become.
Why We (Especially Men) Feast on Violent Imagery
A personal development teacher once told me that humans crave “peril”—an edge, a challenge, something that forces us into heightened aliveness. For ages, peril was real: hunting, war, survival. Today, we seek it passively, often through films and shows.
Watching action movies, thrillers, and high-adrenaline sports gives us a controlled way to experience danger without real risk. I was no exception. For most of my life, I got my fix of peril through violent films, the occasional reckless drive at a racetrack, and backcountry trekking.
Professional sports serve a similar function. Whether it’s football, hockey, or MMA, we watch others fight for victory from the comfort of our couch.
But as I’ve grown more emotionally connected to myself, my tolerance for artificial peril has waned. What once excited me now elicits discomfort. My body registers the tension, the fear, the pain—sometimes more than the characters themselves seem to. Instead of detaching, I feel. And that has changed everything.
Artificial Peril vs. Growth Edge
Looking back, I see how much time I spent consuming violence instead of experiencing real challenges. Instead of pushing myself in meaningful ways, I let Hollywood manufacture my adrenaline rush.
Now, I seek my growth edge—but with purpose:
At the racetrack, I push my limits with calm and discipline instead of reckless speed.
At personal development retreats, I confront fears, discomfort, and vulnerability, stepping into real emotional risk.
Facing my edge, putting myself out there, and pushing past fear has led to my greatest breakthroughs. It’s not about money or time—it’s about stepping into my growth edge.
And yes, I still get anxious before a retreat. I still go anyway.
What’s Next?
If you’re experiencing a similar shift—losing interest in violent entertainment and craving something deeper—you’re not alone. Maybe you feel the urge to challenge yourself but don’t know where to start.
I’ve spent years navigating the world of retreats, leadership training, and transformative experiences, and I can help you find what’s right for you.
If you’re ready to find your edge and step into real, deep-rooted growth, let's talk.
You don’t need another movie.
You need an experience that changes you.
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