I wrote this sobbing last night. Never written anything this easily - it literally poured out of me. For as long as I can remember, I’ve had the feeling that my own actions could possibly save the lives of those I love. Whether it was my keeping my mom from dying in a tragic car accident and having a mental image of me staring at her casket flash in my mind or if it was keeping my brother safe from the boogeyman, I have always felt compelled to try something. If my actions, or what i later learned are compulsions can make a small difference and help keep someone safe, why would I not just walk back and check the light while counting to eleven three times in a row? It’s nonsensical. It’s illogical, but, yes, I still get these thoughts. It’s because I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder or OCD. My earliest obsession that I remember was about telling my little brother the same thing every night. He slept in the bunk bed above me and every night I would tell him “I love you. I have you have good dreams. Please know you can always talk to me about anything.” I said this to my brother ritually because my brain was telling me that if I didn’t my brother would die in his sleep and I’d never have the chance to tell him that. Or worse my brother would die and be mad at me, with me having no recourse to right my unsuspecting wrong prior to his unseemly and early demise. Again, it doesn’t make sense, but to a 9 year old it felt quite burdensome. Then came the religious aspect. It was around this time that I was exposed to Christianity and the idea of being saved. Through learning about the concept of heaven I was also taught that an inverse existed: hell. This would be my OCD’s playground for the next several years. I was taught the Lord’s Prayer and I felt that I had to say it a certain number of times each night in order for God to deem me, a lowly 9 year old sinner, as “worthy” of the kingdom. This number felt absolutely imperative that I complete the prayers otherwise I might die in my sleep and go to hell. So I stayed up and said the prayers over and over. To say the Lord’s Prayer over 100 times in an evening was exhausting for my brain. Then afterwards to have to convince myself that I had met my requisite demands and would be allowed into heaven. Then came puberty and picking my face. I had acne and I was extremely self conscious about it. I picked at my face and created scars only making things worse. I picked at my skin and would put paper clips under my fingernails because the pain allowed temporary relief. It was possibly to ease my mind because it was a distraction from the constant heavy stuff I was considering. This is also when the intrusive thoughts began to materialize and get worse. It would be near constant that when I was speaking with someone I would get strange sexual or violent intrusive thoughts. I had no desire to act on them and I was in fact utterly confused and disgusted by them. They only compounded my confusion - how could I, the person who just thought about pushing someone down the stairs or holding another dude’s hand, be worthy of heaven. It led me to question every sense of my being as a person. I didn’t have a foundation to question but I still felt more confused because these thoughts were coming from me, maybe I wasn’t worthy of heaven. Maybe I was even dangerous or worse a monster and needed to be kept away from people so that I didn’t cause pain. I didn’t know at the time that these strange violent or sexual thoughts were apart of my mental illness. A distressing prod from OCD followed by compulsions to pray or reassure myself about everything. My relationships in college included me constantly seeking reassurances from myself that my friends didn’t secretly hate me. I knew that it wasn’t normal because I was exhausted. I can remember thinking to myself why is nobody talking about this? And then I remember thinking, that I didn’t want to talk about it either because it involved weird, embarrassing or even taboo topics that my intrusive thoughts seized upon and weaponized my own worst fears against me. Amazing nobody wants to discuss that with their loved ones regularly. In law school, the pressure ratcheted up and I knew I wasn’t right with all the compulsions I had to do just to make it through the day. Between the mental aspects of dealing with absolute chaotic intrusive thoughts, reassuring myself i was a decent person and physical manifestations of compulsions like repeatedly checking my bottom floor apartment to ensure I hadn’t killed the 300 other tenants in the building - I was exhausted. Luckily, my then girlfriend now wife was able to make it through the mush that is my brain through sheer effort and love she convinced me to get help. I didn’t tell anyone but her and I remember hoping nobody recognized me as I walked in to see a psychiatrist. I’d like to say things got better there and I learned how to control things, but they didn’t necessarily get worse either. That’s one of the tricks that ocd plays on you. It makes you think you’re stuck in the middle of something and it’s incredibly daunting to make it out. You should just give up and give in to these compulsions rather than actually try to fight all this. I got married and had a child and became a lawyer all very quickly. It was a ton of change and my anxiety was heightened. Recently I’ve had debilitating panic attacks and have felt the a sense of terror surge though me that I have never felt before. My panic attacks can feel all consuming and physically manifest themselves with weird symptoms like my hands cramping from hyperventilating. I’m seeing a therapist and trying different medications to get the balance right. I know that I am less anxious when I practice self care. It’s a process that I’m trying to learn because for most of my adult life I’ve lived with this secret that I felt like was all my own. Nobody ever mentions this kind of suffering for obvious reasons and popular culture portrays ocd as a neat assigning of colors and rows. I believe if we talk about our struggles more openly and practice empathy with each other we can help people suffer less. I suffered silently for a long time because I was scared to death what people would think of me if they found out I was broken - but what I was unable to see was that there are others out there suffering too. We are stronger together if we talk about these things openly but it takes courage. I have debated on speaking out about my struggles for sometime but I read something recently and it cemented that I had to speak out. If I recover loudly maybe other won’t have to suffer silently. I believe if someone had spoken to me and told me this was a disorder in my brain, it could have saved me a lot of suffering. I want kids and teens to know that intrusive thoughts and ocd exist. If it means one less kid going to school tired from being up too late saying prayers then it is worth it. My pride is not more important than other people’s suffering. I’m in a position to speak out and positively impact people. If you or someone you love has OCD please know I’m walking this journey with you. I don’t have the answers but I do know we can beat this. Together.

A reflection I never saw myself being able to write✨ One year ago today, I was spiraling for a second time because I wasn’t sure what was happening to me, again. Getting through it once was doable but twice? I truly thought I was losing my mind. OCD wasn’t just a shadow in the background — it was a loud, relentless voice narrating fear, doubt, and compulsions into every corner of my life. I couldn’t trust my thoughts, couldn’t rest in silence. I was questioning everything. I was exhausted coasting through the motions of life trying to survive every minute of every day. But today — I’m here. Still imperfect, still human, but finally free in a way I didn’t think was possible. I got here by learning the hardest, most empowering lesson of my life: I had to stop depending on anyone else to pull me out. I had to stop outsourcing my safety, my certainty, my worth. I had to become the person I could rely on — not in a cold, lonely way, but in the most solid, liberating way possible. You see, healing didn’t come when others gave me reassurance — it came when I stopped needing it. When I realized no one could fight the war in my mind for me. It had to be me. Not because others didn’t care — but because I had to be the one to stop running from fear. I had to choose courage over comfort, again and again. And boy was that rough. But I did. Through therapy, I retrained my brain. (Shout out to Casey Knight🙏🏼) I stopped dancing to OCD’s obsessive rhythm and started rewriting the song. And yeah — the beat dropped a few times. But I kept moving forward. Slowly, I started turning my mind into a place I wanted to live in. I made it beautiful. Not by forcing positive thoughts, but by planting seeds of truth: 🌱 Not every thought deserves attention. 🌱 Discomfort doesn’t mean danger. 🌱 Uncertainty is not the enemy — it’s just part of being alive. I started treating my mind like a garden instead of a battlefield. I let go of perfection and started watering what was real, what was kind, what was mine. And let’s be honest — there were still a few weeds. (Hello, OCD — always trying to “check in.” ) Because healing isn’t linear, I still have days where I feel back to square one, but it’s a day, not a week, month, or another year of surrendering. But here’s the “punny” truth: OCD tried to check me, but I checked myself — with compassion, courage, & a whole lot of practice. To anyone still caught in the spiral — I want you to know: you are not broken. You don’t need to wait for someone else to save you. No else will. The strength you’re looking for? It’s already in you. It might be buried under fear, doubt, and rumination, but it’s there — patient and unbreakable. Start small. Start scared. Just start. Because when you stop relying on the world to reassure you, and start trusting your own ability to face uncertainty, you get something even better than comfort — you get freedom, resilience, power & SO much more. You don’t have to control every thought/urge to have a beautiful mind. You just have to stop believing every thought/urge is the truth. You don’t have to be fearless , you just have to act in spite of fear. You are not crazy You are not a monster You are not evil You are human You are capable And if OCD ever tries to take over again, just smile and say, “Nice try. But not today.” — Someone who came back to life, one brave thought at a time 🧡

this is the most i will ever go into depth about my mental health, all in one post; all in one sitting. this will be draining. to start this off, yes, i have OCD—but i also have several other disorders as well. some of my diagnoses that will come to light in this have a strong correlation to comorbidity and so instead of this being a story simply about my OCD, i will cover all areas of my mental health. for readers, i want it to be clear; this is for me. i’m doing this to put my story out. i hope you find some interest in what i have to say, but in the end, my intentions are strictly to make my damage good. symptoms of my mental issues were present frequently in my childhood experience. for years i avoided any truth to how i thought or felt. thinking, feeling, acting—all 3 were never in cohesion. i had a very anti-social attitude towards life for most of my pubescent years. i got use to faking and manipulating to appear a certain way when i knew i was at risk of punishment; it allowed me to get away with a lot of immoral behaviors for a long time before i eventually was forced into counseling from a school fight i had initiated. i was roughly 14 at this time. counseling was my initial therapy for a while. i have since seen 5 therapists. i can’t say any of those therapists knew a single truth about me, really—with a mixture of pathological lying and a bad masking habit, I was stopping myself from getting any real treatment. i don’t know why, but for a long time i was content with this truth. a part of me never really felt the need to address it. my manipulative behaviors were often unintentional and not once had i sought a need to be callous, even when doing the things i was doing. with every new therapist, i had tuned my personality specifically to fit them—a concept that i don’t have a name for but now can dissect in immense detail. i would take parts of my personality and accentuate them to fit the attitudes and interests of particular people. in my head it was always about admiring the story. nobody was real; everyone was a character, everyone was a unique, self-manifested character. i just made my character with greater intents. i was a good listener, i think understanding that made me get more comfortable with my destructive and manipulative tendencies. when someone believes your listening, like really, actively listening—they’ll eventually tell you everything about themselves. now for a slight addressing of the obvious, i want it to be clear, i’m not describing ASPD—aka, the real life equivalence of sociopathy. i do think i show strong signs of it early on in my youth, and i bring these behaviors up because i think the issues that i do have developed from my anti-social behaviors—however, i was a child; i didn’t know the consequences of my behavior like i do now. if anything is needed to be said here, it’s best to address the following events like this: i understand now, i didn’t understand then. turning 15, i had started off 2023 in a relationship that meant a lot to me—a lot more to me than anything in my life leading up to this point. it’s best to address this now as well—i don’t feel a lot, but when i do, it’s usually irrationally intense and feels completely uncontrollable. at this time, i had gotten over a lot of my anti-social tendencies by now and have spent the last year improving myself after the things i had done began hurting the people i valued most. from a long list of lying, manipulating, preying, harassing, even stabbing people with whatever sharp thing was at my disposal—i had come a long way in creating a character that i actually liked. an important thing to keep in mind during this time was the early development of my OCD that had initially come in the form of suicidal ideation. most of the people in here i’m assuming are people that personally have OCD and understand that it’s not a disorder based in the stigmatized-lens of perfectionism but rather an irrational need for certainty. death quickly became my “ultimate form of certainty” in my teenage years as i turned to the concept like a comfort place—a hand on my shoulder saying “it’s okay, you can fuck up however you might, there’s always a way out.” i had not been truthful about that in therapy either, nor did the several medications prescribed in my lifetime ever do something of benefit to what my issues actually were. of course, i blame no one but myself for not benefiting from outside sources. skipping over a lot of meaningless detail—the gist of the year went like this: Jan-April relationship breaks up badly—in my irrational state, i attempted to take my life and was hospitalized, and eventually, institutionalized. i stayed there for 11 days. at the time the only diagnoses they could make of me was MDD and ASD with slight signs of generalized anxiety. May-August i get extremely medicated and start taking 150+ pills a month to maintain what at the time was being treated for bipolar and schizophrenia. i was too young to see my clinical record, and i assume they wouldn’t tell this to a minor, but it seems they believed whatever my issues really were—i was simply too young to get an accurate assessment. September-December the medication makes me completely apathetic and my loss of care for life brought back my irrational gimmicks and self-destructive tendencies. i, in a 4 month period, ruined every single relationship i had kept close to me. 2024. i was alone. i stopped taking my pills due to a loss of interest and excessive weight gaining but it made my intense emotions start to bite me again. this was the year my OCD had fully developed and by April, i was diagnosed after failing a risk-assessment. for a long period of time, i lived a meaningless, uneventful, isolated life. that year, i let my mental health take over all acts of my being. i got deep into philosophy, psychology, pathology, a lot of tv shows built around psychological dynamics—i was desperate to understand this parasite that seemed to destroy my life without any awareness. i never wanted it to take the years it did since i was initially that 13 year old boy, but i write this now with a simple truth—a truth i refused to let myself believe until recently. i can’t fix this. the more i feed into it, obsess over it—the more these issues are going to worsen. for years i wasted my days thinking i was trying everything i could and it just wasn’t working. i couldn’t accept the fact that i don’t control this, and despite being told that again and again—it never got through to me until i spent the last week not feeding into the OCD and emotional dysregulation, and for the first time, i didn’t find myself counting the seconds that passed me by. it might not mean that much for an outsider looking in, but since my OCD had fully developed—i would always be counting the seconds in the back of my head, not like 1231, 1232, 1233… but as a tick of a metronome that made me always aware of the time. the days where this wasn’t annoying, it was boring, which i ultimately hated more. i’m seeing a light i haven’t seen in years, and with it i keep reaching the same notion—i wish i didn’t waste so much of my life being miserable. i’m getting a psychological evaluation within the next month. i’ve been out of therapy for about a year now but i’m going in now looking to help myself. this is specifically for my emotional dysregulation. my current theories revolve around cluster B personality types, 1 of 4 including ASPD as i had mentioned earlier, albeit my bet is actually on BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder.) I crossed off Borderline for a long time because the symptoms list always felt too broad, but the more i understand the disorder—the more i feel connected to it. my theory comes from several factors—my rapidly changing self image, my impulsive/erratic behaviors, my irrational emotions, my long history of unconventional relationships, my fear of abandonment, my chronic emptiness, my history of self harm, etc. this is not confirmed however, and i wish to get an evaluation specifically for the disorder. getting a personality disorder diagnosed in a minor isn’t easy, but i’m doing it half for the certainty of just knowing—and half for potentionally getting a medication that can help me live a healthy-adjacent life. i never thought i would see a life free of obsession since being diagnosed with OCD. now i can enjoy the silence. thanks for reading. any commentary appreciated.

Hi NOCD community, I wanted to share my story of my journey so far with OCD to provide perspective to anyone who needs it. I can't believe how far I have come with a huge part because of my NOCD treatment and utilizing ERP. For reference I am a 24-year old male, so for anyone who is like me and on the fence with treatment, trust me it is worth it. If you ever want to talk about OCD and are not sure where to start or need guidance please do not hesitate to reach out to me. I am now almost 2-years into treatment and working on recovery to this day. Sending my support to all. My OCD Story Adolescence Growing up, I didn’t know what mental health was—or even much about who I was. I was somewhat consciously aware, but something always felt off. My life seemed surrounded by reacting to fear instead of exploring or discovering like a regular kid. It felt like there was a switch in my brain that never let me settle in. My earliest compulsions were more physical than mental. One example that likely went unnoticed was how I would obsessively organize and align my toys in a certain way. It may have seemed like I was just being finicky, but now I recognize this as an early sign of OCD. The key is understanding that anything can become a compulsion—it’s not about what you do, but why you do it. In my case, it was always to avoid a bad outcome or neutralize a feeling. Another moment that stands out was in preschool during a performance. I was reciting something I can’t remember in front of an audience—a common childhood fear—but the way I coped was by repeatedly hitting myself in the head with my fist. I wasn’t aware I was doing it, but it calmed me, even though inflicting pain had no logical connection to the fear itself. Looking back, this was clearly a physical tic. My dreams were disturbing too. I’d experience that terrifying space between sleep and consciousness. My parents once had to put my limbs in ice just to fully wake me. And even the process of going to sleep became ritualistic. I had to jump into bed using my left foot, pray a specific way (including naming everyone I didn’t want to be affected by harm), rotate clockwise, shake my pillow four times, and do various actions around my room—cleaning, checking the door, and more. All to prevent the visions in my mind from becoming real. Teenage Years Though my childhood was tough, things really escalated in high school. My family life was chaotic—divorce, shifting homes, and being the older sibling trying to hold it together. I was smart and creative, and I found joy in creative writing, fantasy books, cartoons, video production, and drawing. But the storm really hit freshman year of high school. I was bullied relentlessly—for being shorter, having low self-esteem, and dealing with an undiagnosed mental illness. One night while trying to fall asleep, I noticed my heart beating fast. I panicked, convinced something was wrong. My dad said it was heartburn and gave me soda (caffeine), which only made things worse. I slept maybe an hour, and we went to the ER the next morning. After a full workup and an EKG, the doctor concluded I was physically fine and gave me anti-anxiety medication. But that wasn’t the end. I had more episodes. I became obsessed with the idea that something was wrong with my body. I had blood drawn thinking I had a thyroid issue. I panicked at doctor’s visits, which spiked my blood pressure, fueling more health fears. I was also in an advanced biology class, learning about diseases and cancers—which triggered me to the point I felt like I was going to pass out. Motion sickness and vertigo became a daily fear, and I became terrified it would never go away. That became a core theme in my health-related OCD and deeply affected my quality of life. It was also during this time I developed HOCD (Homosexual OCD). Intrusive thoughts about my male friends consumed me. I couldn’t relax around them or enjoy hanging out. I compulsively told myself I was straight, watched porn to “test” my reaction, and mentally analyzed everything I thought or felt. It was exhausting. It chipped away at my confidence, especially with women, though I know other external factors played a role in that too. Still, I had no education around mental health and assumed this chaos in my mind was normal—or that anyone seeking help had to be “crazy.” I couldn’t have been more wrong. Adulthood Despite all that, I managed to graduate high school with good marks—even finishing at a new school I attended for just eight weeks after moving in with my mom. College was a major turning point. For the first time, I experienced independence and the ability to sit with my thoughts. I still didn’t know what I was dealing with, but being away from a broken home and forging my own identity was incredibly freeing. Freshman year felt like a fresh start…until the pandemic hit. Like many others, I was forced to return home. For someone with OCD, the sudden lack of control and isolation was devastating. I was trapped in my room, stuck in my head, with nothing but virtual classes and uncertainty. Still, I eventually got back to campus, focused on my career in the sports and entertainment industry, and was accepted into a prestigious program while working multiple internships and completing challenging coursework. But with roommates and stress came new obsessions—and still, no diagnosis. I eventually sought therapy for anxiety, realizing my mental state was unsustainable. That’s when two of my most distressing OCD subtypes emerged: Staring OCD and POCD. They worked together in the worst way—fears of inappropriately staring at people, especially children. It felt like I couldn’t exist in public without fearing I’d harm someone just by looking at them. It shattered my self-worth. I couldn’t enjoy life, couldn’t even look in the mirror. The guilt and shame consumed me. I turned to talk therapy, where I was diagnosed with severe anxiety and depression. While sessions brought momentary relief, it quickly became clear I wasn’t getting better. In fact, the act of confessing my thoughts—seeking reassurance—was fueling the OCD. Still, I didn’t have the language for it. After doing my own research (a compulsion in itself), I discovered POCD and Staring OCD. For the first time, I read stories that sounded exactly like mine. I brought this to my therapist, but they dismissed it. Unfortunately, OCD is still widely misunderstood—even among professionals. Because I didn’t fit the “cleaning and checking” stereotype, I wasn’t taken seriously. In 2023—just two years ago—I found NOCD, a teletherapy platform specializing in OCD. I scheduled a free consultation, thinking “Why not?” I was miserable and desperate for relief. The therapist who evaluated me confirmed: I had OCD. She administered the DSM-5 criteria and said I was a textbook case. This was the turning point. Through NOCD, I finally received proper treatment with Exposure and Response Prevention (ERP). I learned how OCD functions, how to track and reduce compulsions, and how to sit with discomfort instead of running from it. It took time—5 to 6 months before I noticed true change—but for the first time in my life, I felt heard. I wasn't alone. NOCD gave me a judgment-free space to unpack the most disturbing thoughts and to not be defined by them. I won’t sugarcoat it—this journey has been painful, frustrating, and nonlinear. I still live with OCD every day. But now I have tools. I’ve continued treatment with multiple NOCD therapists, joined support groups, and practiced exposures: scripting, imaginal scenarios, response prevention, you name it. I’ve learned to live with uncertainty instead of trying to solve the unsolvable. The biggest lesson? Stop trying to figure it out. OCD is emotional, not logical. The moment I stopped trying to outthink it and changed my relationship with it, everything shifted. Today, I’m not “cured,” but I’m grounded. I’m more myself than I’ve ever been. And now, I want to give back. I want to share my story so others know that they’re not alone—and that OCD doesn’t have to rule your life. Whether you're 14, 24, or 44—there is help, and there is hope.