I’d like to share something I read recently that helped me to start viewing my OCD in a different light. Many of us view OCD as a monster attacking us. May I challenge you all to try and view OCD instead perhaps as a faulty alarm. The brain has a system in place to warn us of potential threats - this is normal functioning. However, with anxiety, OCD, etc., this system becomes hyperactive and can cause issues. It’ll start throwing out these “fake-out” threats (obsessions) in order to get you to take precautions over things that aren’t happening (compulsions). It demands these compulsions because then it’s like you’re protecting yourself. But the threat isn’t there, that’s why a lot of it is surrounded in “what-ifs”. The brain is basically trying to protect us in its own way due to OCD. I personally never understood how OCD was the brain’s weird way of protecting us until I saw it from this side. I believe that once the perspective is shifted to view OCD in this light, it can cause us to develop self-compassion for ourselves - which I believe is vital to recovery. That’s why when we eliminate compulsions, we are telling our brains that we don’t need to do anything about the “threat” it is sending out. It’s being wayyy overactive, and we need to let the alarm ring without doing anything about it. The brain learns and changes when we avoid compulsions and we get closer to recovery. I sometimes think it could even be viewed as the character Fear from the movie Inside Out - imagine if he was running the show, huh? I hope this can help any of you out there struggling. Even just changed in perspective when it comes to OCD can make a huge shift in someone’s life. 💛 Also if anyone is interested, I came across this perspective doing a self-compassion for OCD workbook by Kimberly Quinlan, LMFT.

Looking back, I realize I’ve had OCD since I was 7. though I wasn’t diagnosed until I was 30. As a kid, I was consumed by fears I couldn’t explain: "What if God isn’t real? What happens when we die? How do I know I’m real?" These existential thoughts terrified me, and while everyone has them from time to time, I felt like they were consuming my life. By 12, I was having daily panic attacks about death and war, feeling untethered from reality as depersonalization and derealization set in. At 15, I turned to drinking, spending the next 15 years drunk, trying to escape my mind. I hated myself, struggled with my body, and my intrusive thoughts. Sobriety forced me to face it all head-on. In May 2022, I finally learned I had OCD. I remember the exact date: May 10th. Reading about it, I thought, "Oh my God, this is it. This explains everything." My main themes were existential OCD and self-harm intrusive thoughts. The self-harm fears were the hardest: "What if I kill myself? What if I lose control?" These thoughts terrified me because I didn’t want to die. ERP changed everything. At first, I thought, "You want me to confront my worst fears? Are you kidding me?" But ERP is gradual and done at your pace. My therapist taught me to lean into uncertainty instead of fighting it. She’d say, "Maybe you’ll kill yourself—who knows?" At first, it felt scary, but for OCD, it was freeing. Slowly, I realized my thoughts were just thoughts. ERP gave me my life back. I’m working again, I’m sober, and for the first time, I can imagine a future. If you’re scared to try ERP, I get it. But if you’re already living in fear, why not try a set of tools that can give you hope?

I want to beat OCD because I have seen and felt the benefits of clearing my brain from unnecessary, pointless, thoughts. OCD is like 0 calorie food. It’s pointless. No nutrition or benefits come from my obsessions or compulsions. I don’t care to have answers to everything anymore. I catch myself just trying to stress myself out so that I have some worry to feed on. But like I said, it’s a 0 calorie food. I get nothing from it but wasted time and energy. My brain feels more spacious when I’m not consumed by OCD. I’m present. My personality has room to be herself without making space for bullshit. I tell myself now that worry is poison. I think Willie Nelson was the person I got that quote from? Anyways, that imagery of worries being poison for the mind has been transformative for me. I’m evolving. 💖 Thanks NOCD community.

December 14, 2024, marked two years since my first ERP therapy session with my NOCD therapist, Mixi. And October 2024 marked a year of being free from OCD. It was not an easy journey, confronting my fears face to face. Exposing myself to the images and thoughts my brain kept throwing at me, accepting that I might be the worst mother, that my daughter wouldn’t love me, and that I deserved to be considered a bad person. It was challenging having to say, “Yes, I am those things,” feeling the desire to run, but realizing the thoughts followed me. At the start of my therapy, I remember feeling like I couldn’t do this anymore. Life felt unbearable, and I felt so weak. I longed for a time before the OCD, before the flare-ups, before the anxiety, the daily panic attacks. I thought I’d never be myself again. But I now know that ERP saved my life. The first couple of sessions were tough. I wasn’t fully present. I lied to my therapist about what my actual thoughts were, fearing judgment. I pretended that the exposures were working, but when the sessions ended, I went back to not sleeping, constantly overwhelmed by fear and anxiety. But my therapist never judged me. She made me feel safe to be honest with her. She understood OCD and never faltered in supporting me, even when I admitted I had been lying and still continued my compulsions. My biggest milestone in therapy was being 100% transparent with my therapist. That was when real change began. At first, I started small—simply reading the words that terrified me: "bad mom," "hated," "unloved." Then, I worked on listening to those words while doing dishes—not completely stopping my rumination, but noticing it. Just 15 minutes, my therapist said. It wasn’t easy. At one point, I found myself thinking, “Will I ever feel like myself again?” But I kept pushing through. Slowly, I built tolerance and moved to face-to-face exposures—sitting alone with my daughter, leaning into the thought that my siblings might die, reading articles about my worst fears, and calling myself the things I feared. Each session was challenging, but with time, the thoughts started to lose their grip. By my eleventh session, I started to realize: OCD was here, and it wasn’t going away, but I could keep living my life despite it. I didn’t need to wait for it to be quiet or go away to move on. Slowly, it began to quiet down, and I started to feel like myself again. In fact, I am not my old self anymore—I’m a better version. OCD hasn’t completely disappeared, but it’s quieter now. Most of the time, it doesn’t speak, and when it does, I know how to handle it. The last session with my therapist was emotional. I cried because I was finishing therapy. I remember how, in the beginning, I cried because I thought it was just starting—because I was overwhelmed and terrified. But at the end, I cried because I was sad it was ending. It felt like I had come so far, and part of me wasn’t ready to say goodbye, even though I had already learned so much. It was a bittersweet moment, but I knew I was walking away stronger, equipped with the tools to handle OCD on my own. If I could change anything about my journey, it would be being open and honest from the beginning. It was the key to finding true healing. The transparency, the honesty—it opened the door to lasting change. I’m no longer that person who was stuck in constant panic. I’m someone who has fought and survived, and while OCD still appears from time to time, I know it doesn’t define me. I'd love to hear your thoughts and comments. Have you started therapy, is something holding you back? Is there something you want to know about ERP therapy? I'll be live in the app answering each and every one today from 6-7pm EST. Please drop them below!