I was scrolling through one of my streaming services which one, I cannot say. Not because it’s classified, but because at this point they all blur together into one endless buffet of content I don’t have time to consume.

And then I saw the title:

If I Had Legs I’d Kick You.

Excuse me?

That’s aggressive. Bold. A little unhinged. I was intrigued.

So naturally I clicked.

And then I read the description and immediately felt like I needed a nap and possibly a therapist p hopefully not a hostile one.

Here’s the summary, casually. A woman attempts to navigate her child’s illness, her absent husband, a missing person, and a hostile relationship with her therapist.

I’m sorry.
A hostile relationship with her therapist?

Isn’t that the one person who is supposed to be emotionally Switzerland?

Rose Byrne stars in it and let me be clear that she is a phenomenal actress. Love her! The film is Oscar-nominated. It’s serious. It’s Important Cinema.

But I have a question.

Do I need to watch a woman be overwhelmed and miserable?

Hello. I have 1001 things to do every day. I have 101 problems and this movie should not be one of them.

And yet.

I am intrigued.

Why?

Because misery, and I say this with love,  has a gravitational pull.

Psychologically speaking, there’s something called downward social comparison. When we see someone struggling more than we are, it can activate gratitude. Perspective. Relief. “Oh. My life is chaotic but not that chaotic.”

It’s the same reason I once watched horror films on a flight because I’m afraid of flying. Logical? No. Psychological? Absolutely.

If I externalize the fear( if I make it bigger and bloodier and on a screen) somehow my own anxiety feels containable. My turbulence is no longer the main character.

Maybe that’s what this movie is offering.

A container for overwhelm.

Because let’s be honest.  Part of what draws me in is recognition. The mental load. The relentless stacking of crises. The way one problem doesn’t politely wait for another to resolve before entering the chat.

Child illness. Absent partner.
Missing person. Therapist with an attitude problem.

It’s like the universe said, “Yes, and”

And here’s the uncomfortable truth. Sometimes watching someone else’s unraveling gives structure to our own. It organizes the chaos. It shines a spotlight on what we’re quietly holding together.

Misery doesn’t just love company.

It loves narrative.

When it’s our own life, it feels random and unfair. When it’s a film, it’s art. There’s a script. A beginning, middle, and end. Even the suffering has cinematography.

So maybe I don’t want to watch a miserable woman.

Maybe I want to watch resilience under pressure.

Maybe I want to watch someone implode so I can admire the pieces.

Maybe I want to feel gratitude that my therapist is not hostile. (If she were, I assure you, I would in fact kick her. Legs or no legs.)

Or maybe I’m just fascinated by the audacity of it all. The title alone suggests rage. Exhaustion. The fantasy of action when you’re too depleted to move.

If I had legs I’d kick you.

Translation. If I had energy, I’d protest. If I had bandwidth, I’d fight back. If I weren’t drowning, I’d set boundaries.

There’s something honest about that. And that honesty? That’s what’s hooking me. Will I watch it?

Unclear.

I may choose instead to fold laundry and rewatch something where problems resolve in 42 minutes and no one is hostile to their therapist.

But the fact that I paused.  The fact that I felt pulled toward someone else’s avalanche. Tells me something.

We don’t just consume stories to escape.

Sometimes we consume them to regulate.

To compare. To contextualize.
To feel less alone in the absurdity.

And sometimes?

To remind ourselves that despite the 101 problems, we are still standing.

Legs intact.
Not kicking.
Just scrolling.