Categorías
APTITUD MONADA RECETAS

‘Behind Her Eyes’ Is A Shocking Thriller–And No One Is Talking About It





As many of us do, I love a good thrill. I like when a book, show, or movie can truly shock me. But I rarely experience it anymore. There have been thrillers and dramas I’ve loved (The Undoing, Home Before Dark by Riley Sager, I’m Thinking of Ending Things—the book… not that wretched film—The Haunting of Hill House, to name a few), but I haven’t experienced the shock factor of googling every hidden message and theory since I saw Us in theaters. And before that, it wasn’t since my favorite thriller of all time, Get Out. Have I seen too much? Am I somehow too in-tune with the tricks of the trade? Somehow, I find everything predictable, and once it’s predictable, it’s downgraded immediately to a 5/10. But last night, I binge-watched the most shocking piece of media I’ve consumed in my life… and I feel like no one else is talking about it. 

 

 

Behind Her Eyes is a Netflix-original thriller limited series based on a book with the same name by Sarah Pinborough that was released in February. It follows a secretary and mom, Louise, after she begins a relationship with her psychiatrist boss while simultaneously striking a friendship with his mysterious wife. It sounds predictable, so I admittedly had very low stake in the show. There are few things I despise in a thriller: “wife kills cheating husband,” “cheating husband kills mistress,” “husband kills wife because she finds out he’s cheating,” and yada yada. It’s old, boring, and personally not something I find horrifying anymore; we get it—men aren’t to be trusted. So when I saw this show revolved around cheating quite a bit, I paused. However, I did love The Undoing which involved infidelity quite a bit, so I gave this show a chance too. And wow, am I glad I did. 

 

Last night, I binge-watched the most shocking piece of media I’ve consumed in my life… and I feel like no one else is talking about it. 

 

About halfway through the series, I started texting a few people I knew. “Hey, I’m watching this new show on Netflix, Behind Her Eyes, I think you’d like it.” Although we had the cheating plot that I hate, there were aspects that I was enjoying: the multiple POVs of different characters, seeing some characters in the past, the sex, etc. 

Around the halfway mark of the final episode, I thought to myself (I live alone, so likely aloud), “This has a pretty predictable ending, but it’s a little different and has been pretty good, so I’m giving it a solid 7/10.” But then, we arrived at the last 25 minutes… which changed everything. I sent a text to about every single person I knew that looked a little something like this: 

 





 

I’m not including spoilers in this solely because I need every single person to watch it including our editors who will have to read this. That’s how important it is to me that everyone watches this show. Don’t wait to watch; it’s the perfect thing to pull up for an evening, grab some good local takeout, and relax. Is it the best show you’ll ever lay your eyes on? Probably not—as with most horror/thriller things, there are always some “why did no one call 911?” moments, but the shock-factor alone made it a 10/10 for me.

 

If you need a few more reasons to convince you, here is just a shortlist of why you should watch, aside from that absolute rave review above:

 

#1. It has the makings of an incredible drama. So many secrets. So little communication. Lots of tension for seemingly no reason. 

#2. Hot Scottish guy with a beautiful accent and even more beautiful you-know-what (AKA beware of slight nudity, so don’t watch with kids)

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Behind Her Eyes Official (@behindhereyesnetflix)

#3. It’s a wee-bit supernatural. Not in a ghost way, but in a “all events come back to this very strange phenomenon” way that I, personally, found riveting.

#4. Simona Brown, who plays Louise, is a knockout actress and this was her first big role!

#5. The other main actress, who plays Adele, is Bono’s daughter. More importantly, I discovered her real name is: Memphis Eve Sunny Day Iris Hewson. What a name. What. A. Name. (She goes by Eve Hewson if you’re looking her up like I did.) 

#6.  The “what just happened” feeling right after the finale when you just stare at a wall wondering what on Earth you just watched.

#7. You’ll end your binge-watch by googling every theory and Easter egg you missed throughout watching the show—which is A LOT.

 

Did we convince you to watch? Want to discuss spoilers? Leave a comment below to chat with our editors! 

Categorías
APTITUD MONADA

The Hope I Found While Navigating Depression and Anxiety

A woman with red lipstick looking off in the distance

Depression found my emotions when they had nowhere left to go. It swallowed them up whole, well, all except one. It was generous enough to leave my favorite behind. Strange how anxiety can dwell in the same cramped crevice. Anxiety and depression are said to be opposites, but I find opposites can inhabit your head quite comfortably.

They were always there, somewhere, the emotions. However, whenever I felt them rising up, I pushed them back down the way I’d always done. It was easier, less tiring and less painful to leave them that way. I’ve learned to keep them in control so well that I never dreamed they would overcome me. I certainly hadn’t expected an ambush—a sudden emptiness, like a vacuum sucking both the good and the bad out of my chest, only to be filled with a surge of anger so powerful that I can only stagger back, unable to recognize myself.

I’ve learned to keep [emotions] in control so well that I never dreamed they would overcome me.

One unnecessary work call, and I want to throw my phone against the wall and swear. Can there really be this much spite and frustration in me, for something as small as this? Can there be rage trapped in my heart waiting to be unleashed? 

Back and forth, it goes like this for weeks—spurts of fury and slumps of hollow apathy. I find little motivation. I fake laughter. My dark room and cold bed are warm and inviting. 

I retreat into the shadows and wait for the outside to match. My love for natural light is replaced with fierce agitation at the unbearable heat, the blinding afternoon rays of what California dares to call winter. It’s hateful. It’s ridiculous.

Even in the long, lethargic nights, my mind doesn’t stop planning, calculating. Depression, the new arrival, never bumps out anxiety in its place. They simply share my brain. No exciting plans? Plenty of time to think about your next meal, then. Or your next grocery trip. Your next food binge.

Old habits don’t die hard—they don’t die at all. Not when half your mind is too numb to bother, and the other half is working in glee to keep them alive. A perfect marriage of two mental illnesses, along with a resurgent eating disorder and whatever new occupant there might be room for, and there’s plenty. 

Plenty of room. That’s when I remember. I remember when my roommate comes home at the end of the day with a grin and says something that makes me smile. I remember when I hear that one friend, with that unfailing roar of laughter no matter what the mood, appropriate or not. I remember when I see the faces, even over a screen, of people who have said (in words or otherwise, once or again and again) that I matter in their lives.

I remember that there was before, and there still is, plenty of room in my heart for more than one emotion. That this new visitor temporarily dwelling inside is no bigger than the others, regular inhabitants before and during COVID: excitement, delight, passion. 

I remember that there was before, and there still is, plenty of room in my heart for more than one emotion.

2020 forced my heart to make room. Its unwelcome visitors wrenched apart the taut, narrow walls and made themselves at home, but they did not find themselves alone. Like an immune system battling for its master, the existing emotions fought back, fought for their place and fought to remain. Their efforts are not wasted; their struggle has sustained me.

Depression and anxiety have not won. Sadness and Agitation—two mere soldiers next to my battalion of Laughter, Affection, Patience, Openness and Understanding. They could have never fought against them, though, if I hadn’t let them in. If I hadn’t let them in, I would’ve never learned I needed them.

Depression and anxiety have not won. 

When I permitted my negative emotions, they stopped defining me. When I recognized their power, it went away. When I treated them as something that can coexist alongside things like joy, hope and excitement, they became insignificant.

Everyone wants their spotlight. Our tears. Our screams. Our cries of outrage. Let them have it for one moment, and they’ll find their natural place next to the others. Give them their moment, and they, too, will be satisfied.

Our hearts know us. They work together with our minds, our bodies. We are not designed for infinite pools of sorrow. That is the hope I hold onto—letting the emotions stay, knowing it won’t be forever. Even sadness knows boredom—and the others are pushing their way forward, eagerly awaiting their turn.

How can you make room for heavy emotions without allowing yourself to dwell on them? Is there room for joy and sadness, hope and sorrow? How do you find balance?

If you or someone you know needs help, then visit National Suicide Prevention Lifeline or 211. You can also call The Lifeline at this number for 24/7, free and confidential support: 1-800-273-8255.

Image via Melanie Acevedo, Darling Issue No. 11