My Emotional Support Shows and What They Say About Me

By Trinity Barnette

Intro: Why TV Comforts Me

Some people meditate. Others journal. I rewatch emotionally unhinged TV shows and somehow feel better afterward.

My emotional support shows aren’t warm, lighthearted background noise. They’re not filled with quirky romances, talking animals, or heartwarming endings. No—my comfort shows involve murder, manipulation, corporate greed, criminal justice, psychological breakdowns, and the occasional poetic monologue about power or guilt. And weirdly? That soothes me.

I don’t return to these shows because I forget the plot. I come back because they mirror the parts of myself I’m constantly trying to understand: the ambition, the anger, the obsession with justice, the craving for control, and the love of complexity. These stories offer something I can’t always find in real life—clarity, consequences, and characters who never settle for easy answers.

So, here’s what my favorite shows say about me—and maybe what they reveal about you too.

1. How to Get Away with Murder

For the days I forget I’m built for this.

Whenever my motivation is low or I start questioning my path, I return to Annalise Keating and her dysfunctional army of brilliant, broken law students. It’s more than nostalgia—it’s a reminder that the law is messy, emotional, manipulative, and powerful. And so am I.

Even though I want to be a prosecutor, I’m weirdly obsessed with a show that centers a defense attorney. But Annalise isn’t just any lawyer—she’s bold, brilliant, and always 10 steps ahead. She’s not perfect (she’s barely functioning half the time), but she’s magnetic. Watching her command a courtroom reminds me that power doesn’t come from having it all together. It comes from surviving, knowing the game, and playing it better than anyone else.

The storytelling in HTGAWM is also addictive—the flashbacks, plot twists, trauma reveals, and moral ambiguity make it feel like therapy disguised as chaos. It motivates me not just to study law, but to own it one day.

And if I’m being honest? I don’t just want to be a lawyer. I want to be feared in court—just like her.

2. Dexter

Because justice isn’t always served in court—and sometimes you need to see the bad guys bleed.

Dexter is my favorite form of vigilante therapy. It’s what I watch when I’m too angry at the world to process it any other way. Criminals piss me off. Abusers piss me off. And sometimes, the legal system pisses me off even more for letting them walk free. So when Dexter Morgan slides in—scalpel in hand, blood slides labeled—I breathe a little easier.

It’s twisted, I know. But it’s also cathartic.

There’s something deeply comforting about watching a sociopath with a strict moral code dismantle evil people one episode at a time. He’s violent, sure—but he’s methodical. Strategic. In control. When the world feels unfair, Dexter reminds me that there can be consequences—even if they’re not served legally.

And despite his issues (which, let’s be clear, are many), Dexter is also a well-written, emotionally layered character. He’s navigating grief, identity, and his own dark urges while pretending to be normal. That makes him terrifying and relatable. At least in theory.

Now, let me say this loudly: seasons 7 and 8 don’t exist. I don’t claim them. That ending? Trash. Unnecessary. Disrespectful. The show should’ve wrapped after season 4. Maybe five, if we’re being generous. But like many toxic relationships, I stuck around longer than I should’ve because I believed in who Dexter used to be.

Still, no matter how ridiculous it got, it remains one of my comfort shows. Because sometimes I don’t want peace. I want emotionally justified murder.

3. Succession

For when I need motivation to chase the bag and emotionally detach.

There are days when I need comfort, and then there are days when I need power. Succession gives me both—in the form of chaos, capitalism, and cold-blooded brilliance. It’s not a warm hug of a show. It’s more like an ice bath. It shocks you, numbs you, and somehow leaves you feeling more alive.

I watch Succession when I need to remember who I am—or more accurately, who I’m becoming. The show makes me feel like building an empire is both possible and inevitable. The Roy family is toxic, manipulative, and emotionally unavailable—but they’re also obsessed with control, dominance, and legacy. And for better or worse, I relate.

As someone running my own blog, brand, and business, Succession is like a crash course in power dynamics, marketing psychology, and how not to run a family. It’s educational in the most dysfunctional way possible. You learn how media empires are built, how loyalty is weaponized, and how silence can be a strategy.

Watching Shiv cut through boardrooms or Kendall spiral in slow motion reminds me that ambition and dysfunction can co-exist—and that even the messiest people can still make moves. It makes me want to be richer, colder, sharper, and less emotionally available in negotiations.

Also, let’s be real—Succession is prestige TV at its finest. The dialogue is elite, the insults are poetry, and the trauma is generational.

4. The White Lotus

For when I need to feel better about my life—and laugh at someone else’s unraveling.

The White Lotus is the kind of show I throw on when everything in my own life feels a little too unstable. Not because it calms me down—but because it reminds me that at least I’m not sleeping with my best friend’s husband’s father, committing tax fraud, or dying in a luxury resort hot tub.

There’s comfort in that.

This show is pure chaos, but it’s delivered with stunning visuals, dry humor, and sharp satire. Everyone’s rich. Everyone’s miserable. Everyone’s hiding something. And somehow, that makes me feel… normal.

It’s not just funny—it’s smartly funny. It makes fun of privilege, desire, power plays, and vacation delusions in a way that feels both elite and extremely trashy. The characters are often terrible people, but they’re terrible in such complex, hilarious ways that I can’t look away. And when you spend a lot of time thinking about justice, trauma, and legal systems (hi, that’s me), watching rich people spiral over brunch is a surprisingly effective form of therapy.

The White Lotus doesn’t teach lessons. It just shows you what happens when people try to escape themselves in paradise. Spoiler: they fail. And I love every second of it.

Because no matter how wild my own life gets, watching these characters crash and burn in designer swimwear? That’s peace.

5. You

For when I need a deep dive into obsession, manipulation, and romantic delusion—with murder on the side.

I watch You not because I support Joe Goldberg—but because I love understanding him. And that’s what makes the show dangerous. It invites you inside his mind, his logic, his twisted justifications—and then dares you to look away. I don’t watch for romance. I watch for the psychological analysis.

Joe is a sociopath, but a self-aware one. He reads, narrates, overthinks, spirals, and gaslights himself just as much as he gaslights everyone around him. As someone who’s fascinated by human behavior and mental patterns, this show feeds that curiosity in the darkest way possible.

You lets me study obsession as a psychological case study. It explores how loneliness, trauma, and the desire to be “good” can morph into stalking, control, and violence—all while wrapped in a bookstore or a professor’s cardigan.

And let’s be honest: it’s also dramatic, ridiculous, and wildly unrealistic at times. I’m not watching this show for legal accuracy—I’m watching it for the chaos, the inner monologues, and the moment when Joe goes from “I love you” to “I had no choice” in the same breath.

It’s captivating. It’s messy. And it’s the only show that can make me feel like I’m in a toxic situationship with a fictional serial killer.

6. Law & Order: SVU

For when I need to believe that justice is still possible—even when the world says otherwise.

SVU used to be a comfort show in the traditional sense. I could binge it for hours, zone out to the rhythm of “dun dun,” and feel a strange sense of peace knowing that justice was always served by the end of the episode.

But as I’ve gotten older—and deeper into my own advocacy for survivors of abuse and sexual violence—it’s gotten harder to watch. The stories are too familiar. The pain feels too close. I can’t unsee what I know now. And still… I return to it.

Because SVU, at its core, is about fighting for people no one else believes. It’s about Olivia Benson walking into a room and saying, “I hear you. I believe you.” That matters. Even if it’s fiction.

The reality is, justice isn’t always served this neatly. Survivors don’t always get closure. But watching SVU helps me hold onto the belief that it can be possible. That we can fight. That we can change things. It reminds me why I write, why I speak out, and why I’ll never shut up about abuse, misogyny, and systems that protect predators.

So while I can’t binge it the way I used to, I still find comfort in its core message:

Justice is worth chasing—even when it hurts.

Closing Section: What My Comfort Shows Say About Me

If there’s one thing these shows have taught me, it’s that I don’t need stillness to feel safe. I don’t need peace to feel whole. What I need—what I crave—is clarity, justice, ambition, and stories that reflect how complicated survival really is.

Some people unwind with cartoons. I watch fictional murderers and courtroom meltdowns. Some people cry over romantic comedies. I cry when Annalise Keating wins a case or Olivia Benson locks up a predator.

These shows aren’t distractions. They’re mirrors. They reflect the parts of me I’m still learning to understand: the prosecutor in training, the survivor, the strategist, the storyteller, the girl who needs to feel powerful in a world that keeps trying to shut her up.

If comfort is what keeps you coming back—then this is mine.

Messy, brilliant, and emotionally unhinged. Just like me.