A lot of people that I use to see post up here when I first joined in 2020 don’t post up here anymore it seems. Makes we think they’ve gotten better with their ocd than I have cause I still post even though it’s less frequent.

I feel so horrible and sad right now. I’ve been posting about what I’m going through on my other account but no one comments or reacts. I’ve posted many times yet no one bothers to respond. I feel so terrible. I want to cry because I feel like I’m already too far gone, beyond forgiveness. I want to delete this app, but if I do, I’ll have no one to share with when I'm really having a hard time to deal with my ocd. I have no one who understands my ocd except the people on this app but it hurts me that no one replies anymore. I’m so sorry for posting something like this. I’m just sharing what I really feel. I don’t know what to do with my life anymore. I feel like I'm about to go insane. Sometimes I feel like it's not my ocd anymore because no one responds to my posts. Honestly, I really feel like I don't have ocd anymore especially because I'm undiagnosed. It makes me feel like I’m the most cruel person in the world, someone who doesn’t deserve love or forgiveness. I’m not trying to guilt trip anyone. I know that you are all struggling too. I truly hope you all get better. 💗

Has anyone actually experimented with this? I don’t really have a social media presence, but I do use YouTube a lot to watch videos. I’ve thought about whether restricting my usage of my phone/of the internet in general might help turn me in a better direction. I’ve been in a rut for a couple months. I haven’t ruminated so much during each day in 2 years. It’s gotten pretty bad. But I’m still in therapy and trying to be honest about everything with my therapist.

OCD has been in my life since 2019, and I have no idea how to get rid of it. Everything started when I was 14. I had just started high school, and when I walked into the classroom, I was trying to figure out the atmosphere there. I was a very quiet kid in high school. I usually hated my skin, so I would wear my cardigan in a way that covered my hands and listened to lessons with my hand on my face. A few weeks later, people started insulting me, hitting me, and verbally harassing me. The bullying got worse, and from then on, I started bottling everything up. At that time, I cared too much about what people thought, and I began to believe others would harm me. Because of these thoughts and fears, I failed around 8–9 classes. In 2020, when the pandemic started, classes went online. I hated it, but I was happy because I wouldn’t have to see those people again—at least until I lost my grandmother. She passed away due to COVID, and that pushed me really far down. Back then, I had an edit account on Instagram. I loved making edits and I had friends I really liked. Talking with them made me so happy, but over time, their behavior toward me changed. They turned into completely different people I no longer recognized. They became horrible, and all of this happened just because I replied late to their messages. I wasn’t always online—I’m human too. They added me to groups, threatened me, and sent me awful messages. I began to hate myself more and more. Around that time, I also started becoming paranoid about people. When I met someone new, I approached them with fear, and this dragged me down further. For almost a year and a half, both online and in real life, I developed prejudice against people. This prejudice was mostly fear—fear and prejudice made me antisocial. When the pandemic ended, in 2022–2023, I had to do an internship in a place and a job I absolutely hated and couldn’t manage. The people there constantly mocked me, which pushed me down even more. I didn’t know how to deal with these situations because I was alone. I did the internship for about two and a half months, and when 2023 came, all the traumas and obsessions echoed in my mind. I felt terrible because of the disgusting events I had experienced. It felt like my brain had completely shut down. By January 2023, I was in an unbearable state. When I walked into the classroom, my teacher noticed something was wrong and started asking me questions. I immediately burst into tears and told her, “I hate myself.” At that time, the students in the back were making a lot of noise, so they couldn’t hear me. My teacher said, “Don’t turn around so they won’t see—come with me,” and took me to the teachers’ room. I told her everything, and I think I respect myself for that. But at the same time, my orientation felt like a burden on my shoulders, because I felt pressure from my family—as if I was supposed to meet a girl and start a relationship. I explained all the pressures, my obsessions, everything from beginning to end. She guided me and supported me. Almost all of my teachers supported me, and my prejudice toward people completely disappeared. Back then, I really thought I had beaten OCD. But in the following years, it came back stronger. I started hating my body. I took too many showers. The traumas replayed in my mind over and over. The more I tried to erase them, the more I thought about them—and I wasn’t the one controlling it. I couldn’t. When I do something, I often repeat it 4 or 5 times. I can’t pass through doors. I can’t touch certain objects. Even when I play games on my phone, I feel like I have to choose a character, but I keep choosing and canceling again and again. It repeats endlessly, and I can’t stop it. It feels like everything that once made me happy just disappears in front of my eyes, and I’m still fighting this. My family, my sister, my aunts, and my past teachers have supported me, but I feel like I’m disappointing them. That makes me feel terrible. On this site, I see so many people sharing their struggles with OCD, and knowing I’m not alone makes me both sad and, at the same time, a little happy. I just wanted to express myself this way. There are still things I couldn’t write—I really want to—but my thoughts exhaust me so much that I can’t.