💭

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?

So, I know my capacity to get fixated on things. And it's normally something that's relatively remote but, my latest issue is really getting to me and I was wondering if people have any advice. I'm avoiding getting too into specifics, as I don't want this to get reassurance-y but, in essence.. I came to the realisation recently that people who I'd been "friends" (feels like the wrong term now) when I was younger were not very nice people, and normalized a lot of very unpleasant behaviour towards other members of the group. They really normalized it, sold themselves as figures of authority, as older and more responsible and grown-up than others, and looking back, they acted horribly. And coming to this realisation, that I'd been manipulated into just accepting their behaviour has just... broken me. My OCD has latched onto it and I can't stop feeling irreversibly tainted by it. I've talked to others about it, and they've reassured me, told me it's not a big deal and that I hold myself to too high a standard, but none of that sticks. I feel better for a bit, then think 'Maybe when you told them you were skewing it to make yourself look better' or 'Did you leave out a crucial detail'. I keep ruminating over and over, trying to remember exactly how everything played out, trying to figure out if I fed into the behaviour, if I did something bad myself (because y'know, I feel like I was accepting of it at the time, so what does it say about my own values?). I know I need to stop doing all this if I want to improve, but then some part of me keeps saying 'So, you're just going to let yourself off the hook then?' Normally, I can rationalize my own fears to some degree, assure myself something won't happen, but the realness of the situation, and the fact I only came to understand the reality of it because the thought had been bothering me means it feels so much more all-encompassing. I know confessing in itself is a compulsion, but I keep feeling that if I'm not I'm somehow concealing what I 'really am' from others around me, and any positive interactions are me deceiving them in some way. I feel like I can't enjoy anything in life right now, and a good part of me feels I should not enjoy it ever again. If anybody has any advice on it, I'm all ears. Or even hearing if you relate to these feelings, I might appreciate the solidarity at least.

Looking back, my introverted nature and struggles to find belonging in high school may have set the stage for how OCD would later impact my relationships. I had my first relationship in high school, but OCD wasn’t a major factor then. It wasn’t until my longest relationship—six years from age 18 to 24—that OCD really took hold. The relationship itself wasn’t the issue; it was what happened after. When it ended, I became obsessed with confessing past mistakes, convinced I had to be completely transparent. Even when my partner was willing to work past them, I couldn’t let go of the intrusive thoughts, and that obsession landed me in the hospital. From there, my struggle with ROCD (Relationship OCD) fully emerged. For years, every time I tried to move forward in dating, doubts consumed me. I would start seeing someone and feel fine, but then the questions would creep in: Do I really like her? Do I find her attractive? Is she getting on my nerves? What if I’m with the wrong person? I’d break things off, thinking I was following my true feelings. But then I’d question: Was that really how I felt, or was it just OCD? I tried again and again, each time hoping I could “withstand it this time,” only to fall back into the same cycle. The back and forth hurt both me and the person I was with. By the time I realized it was ROCD, the damage had been done, and I still hadn’t built the tools to manage it. Now, at 28, I know I need to approach dating differently. I recently talked to someone from a dating app, and my OCD still showed up—questioning my every move, making me doubt my own decisions. I haven’t yet done ERP specifically for ROCD, but I know that’s my next step. Just like I’ve learned tools for managing my other OCD subtypes, I need a set of strategies for when intrusive doubts hit in relationships. My goal this year is to stop letting uncertainty control me—to learn how to sit with doubt instead of trying to “figure it out.” I want to break the cycle and be able to build something healthy without my OCD sabotaging it. I know I’m not alone in this, and I know healing is possible. I’m hopeful that working with a therapist will help me develop exposures and thought loops to practice. I don’t expect to eliminate doubt entirely—after all, doubt is a part of every relationship—but I want to reach a place where it doesn’t paralyze me. Where I can move forward without constantly questioning whether I should. And where I can be in a relationship without feeling like OCD is pulling the strings. I would appreciate hearing about your experiences with ROCD. Please share your thoughts or any questions in the comments below. I’d love to connect and offer my perspective. Thanks!