I’m afraid of eggs. I can’t have a carton of eggs in the fridge. I haven’t ordered them at a restaurant in over two years. My son has an egg allergy, and whenever we are around eggs, my brain sends me these images or flashes of him somehow getting a piece of the eggs. Then I see him gasping for air, and it literally creates a pit in my stomach because I love him more than I love to breathe. I would never hurt him. Yes, eggs allergies are important, and restaurants should be mandated to have allergy menus available for customers upon request. However, this has more to do with my issues than anything my son cannot eat. I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder or OCD. Most people hear this about me and probably think I’m a clean freak, but that’s only one type of OCD and a generalization stemming from poor media coverage about this mental illness. Unfortunately, organization and cleanliness are only one color in the rainbow of OCD subtypes that a person can suffer from. Most experts agree that OCD people experience intrusive thoughts just like we all do; the difference is OCD sufferers have a tremendous amount of anxiety due to these thoughts. Some people see these as images or flashes that can be disturbing or prey on what we care about the most. The anxiety we feel, as a result, is met with another option. Perform a mental or physical compulsion designed to give you temporary relief but will only return wanting more of your time and presence the next go-round. Some OCD sufferers experience this constantly. If I tell you not to think of the pink elephant, you will understand the challenging nature of treating this silent killer. I say silent because many people begin having these experiences and feel an increased and overinflated sense of responsibility based on their thoughts or compulsions become un-ending demanding more of their unlucky victim who believes by performing compulsions they are proving relief to themselves. Then they do this over and over again. Remember the O in OCD? It stands for obsessive, which can create concrete-like neural pathways in the person’s mind. If they suffer silently for years or even decades, the results can damage the person with OCD and their relationships to all forms of life. The good news is through something called Exposure Response Therapy or ERP, which is considered the gold standard for OCD treatment, people can see fundamental differences made in their obsessions and their compulsions. While no “cure” currently exists, many OCD sufferers know their symptoms worsen if they don’t care for themselves by sleeping or eating regularly. The bad news in this situation is that Mississippi has incredibly limited resources when it comes to this. I would know. I’m from a suburb outside the Capitol where the Governor lives, and I felt hopelessly trapped by our fragmented health systems and lack of available resources. I’m lucky to have a wife that encouraged me to seek help, and I believe she saved my life. Through therapy, medication, meditation, and a lot of help from my loved ones, I’m recovering from OCD symptoms, and now I want to help others find their way out. Our children deserve better when it comes to the early identification of this disease. We should create partnerships to ensure teachers, counselors, and parents have the knowledge to talk with their kids about OCD. Early prevention could help one less child stay up at night performing compulsions until they pass out and then underperforming at school due to lack of sleep. We have to do better. I bought a carton of eggs, and they’re sitting in my fridge right now. I’ll let you know how my next omelet is.

In 2023, as I was finally getting sober from harder substances, I found myself in one of the scariest mental spaces I'd ever known. I was still smoking daily, my relationship was rocky, and one night—it all hit me. It felt like I had slipped into a video game. Nothing felt real… or maybe everything felt too real. The world around me was distorted. I had always dealt with anxiety, but this? This was something else. I was spiraling—drenched in guilt over everything I'd ever done, every person I thought I hurt, every wrong I tried to make right all at once. It was suffocating. At 23, I tried checking myself into a mental hospital—something I hadn’t done since I was 17. I was desperate to understand what was happening. My relationship took a hit as I spilled every ounce of guilt I carried to my partner, unable to stop the cycle. It wasn’t just anxiety. It was OCD. And while the diagnosis was terrifying at first, it was also reassuring. I finally had a name for the storm inside me. I wasn’t alone. People I admire—like Jenna Ortega—deal with this too. It’s not just me. It’s real, it’s hard, but it’s also something I can face. Since then, I’ve made big changes. I stopped smoking—realizing it only made the noise in my head louder. I started therapy. My partner didn’t understand at first, but as we both learned more about OCD together, we grew stronger. We’re now engaged, and I’m happier than I’ve ever been. But now it’s time to reconnect—with myself. I want to find the me before everything. The creative, passionate, connected me. I want to start streaming games again and hopefully rebuild the following I lost. I want to connect with people again—I don’t have many friends left, but I’m determined to find my people again. I’m also diving back into my art. Journaling. Sketching—even when I don’t like it. Because it’s the act of creating that heals, not just the end result. I won’t let OCD run my life. I will prevail.

Hi everyone! I’m feeling better today. I had a really bad flare yesterday, my husband really helped me calm down and fall asleep. However, if you have health OCD I feel like you probably shouldn’t read this post unless you are in a good head space. I do not have health OCD. So, I’ve been dealing with a lot of symptoms and health issues that have led me to alot of doctors visits, I have several different doctors that specialize in specific things and now go to an internal medicine doctor. My doctor thinks I have an autoimmune disease, so I’m running alot of tests for several different autoimmune conditions. My OCD has been dormant for a while. I would still deal with it sometimes, but it was way easier to manage. I’m not medicated for OCD. However, I do use arthritis cream and was prescribed muscle relaxers, I have not yet taken the muscle relaxers. So I had a really bad OCD flare last night, specifically Relationship OCD. My husband has just seen parole and I’m super excited for him to come home, but my OCD was trying to convince me otherwise. I also have a new nephew that was born on the 22nd. So I am out of state and was watching my niece for my sister in law. A lot of exciting things happening at once. I’m assuming that triggered my OCD. But I’ve been swelling in my face and dealing with a little bit of body pain as well. Autoimmune diseases come in flares like OCD. I have done some research on autoimmune diseases so I can know what I need to do in order to keep it under control if that’s what I do get diagnosed with. I learned that some autoimmune diseases are linked to OCD, or can even cause OCD because of inflammation in the brain. & It gave me a glimmer of hope honestly. Could my OCD have started because of an autoimmune disease? Could I get better by treating it? My OCD didn’t kick start until I was about 19. I am now 23. I did have symptoms of OCD at 17 though, I went through a period of time where I was compulsively praying and in a cycle of intense anxiety. So I probably had it since I was 17, but I don’t know. My symptoms of autoimmune disease didn’t start until about a year ago, but it could’ve been longer. I couldn’t get rid of a UTI I had for MONTHS & didn’t know why. I had to see a urologist, I was 21 when I kept getting UTI’s. I had to get a procedure done, I had pus build up in my urethra that was almost completely blocking off my urethra. I do not know how the infection got that severe.. especially because I took antibiotic after antibiotic. I felt like I’d get better for a few days, then boom…UTI symptoms once again. So.. that could’ve been the start of autoimmune symptoms. With an autoimmune disease, your immune system is pretty trash. You don’t fight off infections or illness as easy as others. I remember how I’d get sick after everyone else in the house would get sick, but I’d get it so much worse and have the illness for much longer than everyone else. Surprisingly enough, I never got COVID. My whole family had it & I didn’t get it. Unless I did and just didn’t have symptoms. Anyways, I never thought I would say this.. but I hope I do have an autoimmune disease that caused OCD so that I can treat the autoimmune disease and keep my OCD dormant for as long as possible. I forgot what it was like to deal with OCD.. it was so bad lastnight, I remember feeling that type of anxiety and it’s the worst.. 💔 If you took the time to read, thank you! I seem like a charity case lol.. I never thought by 23 years old I’d be like this.

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.