.…therapy

I feel really scared and worried that the therapist I find on NOCD might not be effective, and instead of getting better, I might end up feeling worse. I’m afraid that if I don’t feel any progress, I’ll want to switch therapists, but my mom might get impatient with me. I worry that she’ll lose faith in therapy, stop paying for it, and think it’s a waste of time and money. I know therapy takes time and it’s not a quick fix, but I’m scared that things won’t go the way I hope. What if I don’t connect with the therapist? What if they don’t understand my OCD as well as I need them to? I’ve already been struggling so much, and the thought of going through another disappointment is exhausting. I’m only 14, and I feel stuck because I can’t manage this on my own. I need help, but I also need my mom to stay patient and supportive through this process. I’m scared that if things don’t improve fast enough, she’ll give up on paying for therapy. I don’t know what to do, and it’s making me feel really anxious. I just want to get better, but what if nothing works out?

Now that we’ve kicked off the new year, I find myself reflecting on where the OCD community is today—how things have changed for the better, as well as my hopes for the future. Ten years ago, it was almost impossible to access a licensed therapist with specialty training in OCD using health insurance. Most professionals simply didn’t understand what OCD actually looks like, so over 95% of OCD cases weren’t correctly diagnosed. As a result, insurance companies weren’t able to see how widespread OCD actually was—or how effective exposure and response prevention (ERP) therapy was at treating it. Instead, people with OCD had to pay about $350 or more per session, all out of pocket, for their best chance at getting their life back. I know this from personal experience. OCD turned my life completely upside-down, and I reached out desperately for help, only to be misdiagnosed and mistreated by professionals who didn’t understand OCD. When I finally learned about ERP therapy, the evidence-based treatment specifically designed for OCD, I learned that I’d have to wait for months to see the one OCD specialist in my area, and I couldn’t afford the cost. But I was fortunate. My mom found a way to help us pay, and I finally got the help I needed. Otherwise, I don’t think I’d be here today. In a few months, I started seeing improvement. As I continued to get better using the skills I learned while working with my OCD specialist, I learned I wasn’t the only one with this experience—in fact, millions of people across the country were going through the exact same things I was. That’s why we started NOCD. Since 2015, we’ve always had one mission: to restore hope for people with OCD through better awareness and treatment. The OCD community needed an option for evidence-based treatment that they could afford and access, no matter where they live—an option that also provided necessary support between sessions. And the entire healthcare industry needed to understand how OCD actually works. As I write this post, I’m more enthusiastic than ever about our mission. Just recently, we’ve partnered with Blue Cross Blue Shield of Illinois, Texas, New Mexico, Montana, and Oklahoma. To put this into perspective, 155 million Americans can now use their insurance to access NOCD Therapy. This year, I have high hopes for the OCD community. More and more people will be able to use their insurance to pay for NOCD Therapy, and we’re working hard to give everyone who has OCD the ability to access the treatment they deserve. In addition to providing ERP Therapy, our OCD-specialty therapists also support our Members in prioritizing their overall well-being. With a focus on developing important lifestyle habits, including diet, exercise, mindfulness, and healthy sleep hygiene, they help our members build a strong foundation for lasting mental health so people are more prepared to manage OCD long-term. For every person who gains access to a therapist specialized in OCD for the first time, 2025 could be a year that changes their lives. If you or a loved one is suffering from OCD, please comment below or schedule a free 15-minute call with our team to learn more about how to access evidence-based OCD treatment and ongoing support using your insurance benefits.

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!