I see a great deal of pain and fear on here, and a lot of concern that the pain will never end. For me, it did. Here’s my explanation: ERP is a system for facing your fears. It really is that simple—that doesn’t mean it’s easy, but it is simple. I have to believe that ancient societies practiced a form of this, because it is so intuitive, and once the system, the rules were explained, it felt to me as if I should have already known how to do it. Still, I needed someone to show me. My Harm-OCD made me fear I’d lose control and hurt people. I thought this way for years, even though I’ve been in only two altercations in my life: I was beat up in Elementary, and when I was 16 I fought a close friend cause of a girl. We were dumb; we each made contact once. In other words, no history of violence, but I truly didn’t trust myself. And my POCD, which came a little later in life, in my mid-20’s, it had me truly believing that while I knew I wouldn’t act on it, I was a pedophile. I had decided to never have children, and to avoid children at all costs. Now I trust myself completely, and assuming I find the right woman, I would very much like to have kids. I know I put no one in danger, and that I am a help to my family and friends. It feels so good to trust myself again. The OCD comes and goes. It seems that the focus of the intrusive thoughts change—the theme changes, but the OCD is the same. I had HOCD, then POCD, and now I ruminate… but the rumination is nothing compared to the others, and they are gone. So while it’s still there, it went from taking up 90% of my thought-space to maybe 5%. All that to say, to those of you still “hardcore struggling”, as I did for about half a decade, I want you to know that for many people including myself, while the theme changes and the OCD remains, the power of it fades. That’s the TLDR here: the power fades! it’s not an endless struggle… it might stick around, but it does get to the point that it’s not a big deal In the beginning, the notion of doing ERP with POCD was terrifying. So we started with HOCD. That was pretty easy—I had to cook and use knives and let the image-thoughts of murder pass by, as meaningless to me as they really are. Then I did POCD exposures. First, I just stopped looking away from kids on the street—and I was in NYC then, so you pass people all the time, meaning it’s a significant first exposure. Then I started watching Child Development videos on YouTube, which focus on human psychology and unsupervised group dynamics at different ages. Fascinating, and all about kids, which made for a great exposure. Finally, I went to the park to read and write, and there were kids playing all around me, and I learned to be at peace without avoiding them. I didn’t stare, cause it is easy to freak out a parent, but I just existed there. I did this ERP work for 6-8 hours a week, and within 6 weeks the intrusive thoughts decreased dramatically—I’m talking in the neighborhood of 99%. It was the most liberating experience I have ever had. Results, obviously, vary, but I have never met someone who put in the time and didn’t see results. For those of you trembling in fear, as I did for so long: I urge you to do ERP, and commit to doing it seriously for a long while. I want so badly for you all to find your way out. Love to you.

I realize this may not work for everyone, particularly those who are struggling with moral or existential forms of OCD, but as someone struggling with relationship OCD, here’s my proposition and what’s worked- 1. ERP and resisting compulsions involves intentionally exposing yourself to distress and not trying to do anything about it, but just sit with it. It is a fundamentally ascetic and meditative practice. 2. Resisting compulsions also means overcoming your bodily desire (because more than anything OCD is a nervous system response, not a rational one) for relief from distress, and instead aligning yourself with a higher principle that overcomes your temporal state. 3. OCD also operates similarly to addiction, and recovery outcomes for addicts are significantly improved through belief in a higher power. Higher power is actually one of the core elements of AA programs because it makes self discipline a lot easier. 4. ERP/CBD is effective, in part, because it already fits within the psychology of someone with OCD. What I mean by this is that it involves homework, specific procedures done at regular intervals, intense self discipline, and is overall pretty formulaic/ritualistic/somatic in nature. And we know that it works, and this method of addressing OCD tends to really excite and appeal to those who suffer with it. We act like the totality of OCD psychology is bad, but it also seems to be the key to reversing OCD, and may be a kind of superpower when properly utilized. 5. We have countless religious traditions that are thousands and thousands of years old which have developed techniques and rituals precisely for what OCD recovery needs- Getting out of a reactive state, getting into a state of gratitude and meditation, developing ascetic skills to overcome temptation (compulsions), being okay with uncertainty, creating a place of inner peace and compassion, having a system of accountability and reminders which keep you from slipping back into compulsive patterns, and doing all of this in community with people who experience the same struggle. So far, religion has been *the most* helpful thing I’ve done for my OCD. Here’s how this has played out in my own life: -Hesychastic prayer. This is an Eastern Orthodox tradition where you project the Jesus prayer, in repetition, channeling it not just from the mind or mouth but from the heart. It is deeply psychosomatic, with the goal of creating ego death and achieving a state of seeing God in all things. It creates a calm, warm feeling in my chest that feels identical to a psychedelic afterglow. It takes me out of my head and into my body, and the first time I tried it, with a prayer candle lit beside me, I experienced very rapid relief and was able to sleep for the first time without having any nightmares. I now do this consistently, along with other kinds of prayer and hymn recitation, and gratitude before meals, and it’s something I genuinely enjoy and look forward to. Since doing it, my compulsions have gone done by like 70%. Every time I feel myself slipping into compulsions, instead of doing them, I pause and pray. Prayer fills me with warmth, gratitude, and comfort. I feel connected to something greater than myself, my body becomes calm, my heart stops racing, and afterwards, I no longer feel compelled to perform my compulsions, because I know that it is harmful to myself and those around me, and that God is watching over me guiding me to act in a more thoughtful and wise way. This has single-handedly brought me more long term relief than any other OCD technique or treatment has. Not only has it relieved my OCD, but I have so much more energy, motivation, and self discipline in other areas of my life. It’s like I can feel my neurochemistry balance itself in real time. I’m eating healthier, my relationships are richer, I’m a better student, I feel more creatively inspired, and I have so much more self discipline to resist habits that are bad for me. I hope this may be helpful to anyone else who might be struggling. I’ve searched online and there’s really no information out there that I could find on religious ritual being an effective OCD treatment, but it’s been completely revolutionary in my life.

I had just posted a summary of ERP for a group member, and I thought it might be useful for everybody. Here it is below (with a little extra added)…. ERP therapy is researched-based. Most other therapies don’t work. There have been people who have been literally stuck in their houses (from their OCD) who gained their lives back through ERP therapy. NOCD does ERP therapy exclusively. You can find it in other places too, but you have to ask around. There are two tenants of ERP therapy: The first one has to do with the repetitive thoughts inside our heads. These thoughts are actually defined as “obsessions”. You are not supposed to do anything with the obsessions. You are supposed to let them run through your head freely, without trying to fix them or stop them. Imagine a tree planted by a river. The leaves fall off and float down the river. You can see the leaves falling, but you don’t try to stop them or pick them up. You don’t try to fix them. You just let them float away. This is really important to do with your obsessive thoughts. The more you try to fight them off, the worse they get. I used to have blasphemous sentences running in my head 24/7. I felt like I had to put a “not” next to each sentence in order to “fix” it. But this just took hours of my time every day, and it was very scary, because I was worried that if I messed up, that I would go to hell. It was very freeing to learn later that I could just let those sentences run freely through my head without trying to fix them. The second part of ERP therapy is all about “denying your compulsions.” Every time OCD tells you that if you don’t do things a certain way that something really bad will happen, that is a compulsion. Once you recognize what your compulsions are, ERP therapy will have you practice stopping doing all of those things. For some people, that will mean stopping washing their hands or touching lights switches or, in my case, putting “fixing” words in their head. Compulsions are safety behaviors. During ERP therapy, you will practice stopping engaging with safety behaviors. All this is very hard to do and scary, so during therapy you will be given tools to help you deal with the fear. Often ERP therapy will take people from being non-functional to functional. I highly recommend it. ————————————————- PITFALL #1: After you have been doing ERP for a while and become somewhat successful, the OCD will try subtle little tricks to bring you down again. The first one is to tell you that your thoughts are REAL and not OCD, and therefore you can’t apply ERP therapy. Don’t fall for this trick! All thoughts are just thoughts. They are all meaningless. Don’t try to figure out what is real and what is OCD. Just treat all thoughts with ERP therapy. PITFALL #2: The second pitfall is that OCD will tell you that you can’t move forward unless you have absolute certainty that you will be safe. Hate to tell you this, folks, but there is no certainty in life. You will never know for SURE that you or your loved ones will be “safe” from the OCD rules. Therefore, you have to move forward in the uncertainty. It’s hard, but it gets easier with time and practice. We got this, guys !!!!!!

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.