Why I Keep Rewatching the Same Shows (and Why That’s Actually Smart)

Disclaimer: This isn’t just a comfort-watch manifesto. It’s a permission slip, a defence strategy, and a celebration of doing what your brain needs – even if that means watching ‘Battlestar Galactica’ again instead of trying to remember who’s who in the latest prestige drama.

My Brain Craves Predictability, Not Plot Twists

You don’t want to know how many times I’ve watched Star Trek: The Next Generation. Or Deep Space Nine. Or Voyager. And then Lower Decks for dessert. Sprinkle in Cougar Town, The IT Crowd, Community, Superstore, 30 Rock, and lately, Hazbin Hotel has joined the roster. It’s honestly shameful if you look at it through a productivity lens. But if you tilt your head slightly and squint, it’s actually genius.

There’s something deeply soothing about predictability. When the world feels like it’s imploding in slow motion, and the news makes me want to scream into a cushion, I can put on an episode of Voyager and breathe. I know Janeway’s going to save the day. I know Jerry from Superstore is still going to be quietly hilarious in the background. And I know every single joke in The IT Crowd and yet I still laugh like I’ve never seen it before. Because it’s not about the punchline. It’s about the comfort.

These shows don’t judge me. They don’t expect anything from me. They’re warm, familiar, and always there. There’s no pressure to catch up, no anxiety about spoilers, no emotional whiplash because someone decided to kill off a beloved character for ratings. It’s like being wrapped in a big fuzzy blanket of nostalgia and serotonin.

My Neurodivergent Brain Thrives on Repetition

I’m not just a chaos goblin. I’m a neurodivergent chaos goblin. And let me tell you, novelty can be exhausting. If I’m already emotionally overloaded, or my sensory system is fried, or Lulu has been singing the song of his people since 4am, the last thing I need is to commit to a new show with an intricate plot and a 178-character ensemble cast.

Rewatching means no emotional labour. I already know what’s going to happen, I don’t need to decode foreshadowing or parse subtle character cues. I can just exist. And if I tune out for ten minutes while I make a cup of tea or have a cry on the kitchen floor? That’s fine. I won’t miss anything I haven’t seen before.

And for those of us with executive dysfunction, starting a new show can feel impossible. There’s decision paralysis, then the fear that I won’t like it, then the guilt if I don’t finish it. Rewatching is easy. It’s low-stakes. It’s emotionally safe. And safe is good. Safe is lovely.

The Joy of Not Being Surprised

Surprise parties? Hate them. Surprise plot twists? No thank you. I want to know that Sue White is going to appear out of nowhere playing the recorder, and to see Leslie Knope fall into the pit. And yes, I want to roll my eyes as Carrie from Sex and the City makes yet another narcissistic life decision while her infinitely more patient friends hold the line like emotional hostages for the 657th time.

There’s joy in that. In knowing exactly when to laugh or feel, in feeling clever because I remember every beat, and in the way my body relaxes when I hear an opening theme song I know like muscle memory. It signals safety. It tells my nervous system, “You’re allowed to rest now.”

And it’s not that I don’t like new things. I just like controlled new things. Let me rewatch 30 Rock for the 12th time, and maybe I’ll try a new tea blend. Baby steps. Gentle changes. Growth, but like, softly.

It’s a Personalised, Curated Comfort Menu

Think of your rewatch list like your favourite takeaway order. You could try the new sushi place. But you know the chicken karaage from the place down the road hits the spot every time. Same thing.

When I rewatch a show, I’m not just watching. I’m regulating, I’m soothing my nervous system,. I’m avoiding decision fatigue, I’m giving myself a chance to slow down, feel safe, and maybe even laugh so hard I snort tea out my nose. Which, yes, has happened. Several times. Usually during Hazbin Hotel.

So no, I’m not ashamed. I’m a woman of culture. My culture just happens to involve memorising every cold open from Brooklyn Nine-Nine and analysing every sartorial choice Emily makes whilst in Paris like it’s a thesis on chaotic fashion diplomacy.

I don’t need a nuanced plot arc. I need Tendi shouting ‘Science!’ while things explode in the background.

Let Yourself Have This

Life is hard enough without turning our coping mechanisms into battlegrounds. You’re not failing because you’re not up to date with the 908th Marvel release or another bestselling novel twisted into a Netflix title that bears the name but not the soul. You don’t have to take risks if you don’t want to. You’re allowed to choose ease. You’re allowed to choose repetition. Most importantly, you’re allowed to choose self-regulation.

Rewatching isn’t regression. It’s repetition and regulation. It’s a way to honour who you’ve been, who you are, and how you’ve grown. And it’s a quiet “yeah nah,” to the pressure to always consume, always be in-the-know, always be new. In fact, it’s a love letter to all the versions of you that needed something soft to land on. And honestly? That’s kinda a vibe.

So tonight, I’ll be pouring a cup of tea, cuddling Lulu, and watching Voyager for the 748th time. And I’ll do it proudly. Because sometimes, the smartest thing you can do is let yourself find the coffee in the nebula.

We Need to Stop Clapping for Basic Decency – Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity

In today's episode of Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity, we're unpacking why we need to stop clapping for basic decency. You know the script. A man texts back within twenty-four hours and we're screenshotting it to the group chat. A man plans a date more than three hours in advance and we call him a unicorn. A man manages to listen, pay attention, and behave like a fully formed adult, and our nervous systems short-circuit because we genuinely don't know how to receive it.Here's the truth nobody is saying out loud. The bar has been dragged so low that Satan himself needs a chiropractor after a competitive round of limbo. We've been culturally trained to be grateful for behaviour that should not require gratitude. We've been told these things are bonuses when they're actually the entry requirement. And in the meantime, women have been quietly doing the basic decency thing forever, without applause, while men get standing ovations for outputs we generated for them.Today we're talking about why a great man is genuinely just an average woman, who benefits when the bar stays low, the invisible labour women have been performing for free for centuries, and the friend-test that cuts straight through every excuse we've ever made for mediocre men. Let's get into it.For more visit BryJaimea.com or follow over on IG @BryJaimea

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