Hope

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?

It’s been 4 years. 4 years since I spiralled into a world controlled by rituals of 4, it started as 2, then 3, then 4 - my safe number. The amount of times I wash my hands after touching something dirty and how many repeats it takes until I feel ‘clean’, the amount of taps I make when closing doors to make sure I don’t ‘die’, the amount of times I rinse cutlery and plates before eating off them, the amount of times I disinfect things. My OCD subtype is contamination and I know 2020 lockdowns and the pandemic caused it to spiral but what started as a small ritual quickly became bigger until I no longer remembered what my life was like without the obsessive thoughts of germs and contamination. Could that person be ill? What if I go outside to the shops and someone makes me sick? You can’t answer the door to get that package from the delivery driver because he might make you sick, oh you can’t put the shopping away without disinfecting it first - what if someone has coughed on it? ‘I’ve got to wear gloves to do that’ I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. For 4 years I’ve lived like this, the ‘I don’t want to touch that’ or ‘I can’t go to this place because I don’t want to get ill and die’ ‘can you go do that for me as I don’t think I can right now’ - I know my OCD is irrational, I know the likelihood of those things actually happening are slim to none and I know my OCD stems from a need of control in my life because for so many years I felt like everything in my life was out of my control. But no matter how much I know of how many books I read, how many mindful practices I do the panic I feel after being ‘exposed’ or before exposing myself to a trigger is horrible. I’ve avoided and avoided and avoided to the point where something small now seems and feels like an impossible mountain to climb. It often feels like there isn’t light at the end of the tunnel on the dark days, when I know there is, it’s just going to take some time. Despite this on the outside to those not in my circle my life is a whole picture perfect painting. I run my own business, have a nice car, a nice house, a happy relationship and the of best friends and I’m so grateful for all those things but the reality is much different - behind closed doors and hidden in the closest is the OCD monster. I’ve decided now, after 4 years it’s time to change. I’m breaking the cycle and starting anew. The irony that 4 is my safe number too and it’s been 4 years since things started to get dark. I’m ready to lose control and find myself again. Why am I writing this? Honestly, I really don’t know. I found this app recently and hope it can be a help for my ERP practices I’ve been practicing on my own and it’s actually the first time I’ve ever openly posted or spoken about my OCD to date. For years I have lived with a huge amount of shame and embarrassment, hiding my issues from everyone - even my closest friends have no idea how much it impacts my day to day. I’ve felt shame as I can’t control my own mind despite knowing the thoughts are irrational and the rituals only provide temporary relief but each day again and again the safety blanket of the rituals wraps me up and takes over. The only person who truly knows how much it affects me is my partner, who has been by my side through it all, he’s burnt out and has seen first hand the impact it has had on me, my life and my happiness. I’ve sheltered him as much as I can, but I’m sure those who are in relationships with OCD can relate to the burnout their partner feels day in day out. So that’s my story, I hope those going through similar can take comfort in this and know they aren’t alone in it all as my OCD has made me feel so incredibly lonely, isolated and empty for 4 years too long. It feels freeing to finally share my monster and I hope I can connect with others who are on a similar journey to me. The biggest thing I want to be able to do again? I want to be able to hug my loved ones without feeling triggered, I want to go outside and enjoy life without worry, I want to live again. This app has made me feel seen for the first time in a long time and reading your stories, your experiences and how you’re coping is comforting, encouraging and makes me feel less alone ❤️ thank you for reading x

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!