How I overcame OCD without even knowing it

I realize this may not work for everyone, particularly those who are struggling with moral or existential forms of OCD, but as someone struggling with relationship OCD, here’s my proposition and what’s worked- 1. ERP and resisting compulsions involves intentionally exposing yourself to distress and not trying to do anything about it, but just sit with it. It is a fundamentally ascetic and meditative practice. 2. Resisting compulsions also means overcoming your bodily desire (because more than anything OCD is a nervous system response, not a rational one) for relief from distress, and instead aligning yourself with a higher principle that overcomes your temporal state. 3. OCD also operates similarly to addiction, and recovery outcomes for addicts are significantly improved through belief in a higher power. Higher power is actually one of the core elements of AA programs because it makes self discipline a lot easier. 4. ERP/CBD is effective, in part, because it already fits within the psychology of someone with OCD. What I mean by this is that it involves homework, specific procedures done at regular intervals, intense self discipline, and is overall pretty formulaic/ritualistic/somatic in nature. And we know that it works, and this method of addressing OCD tends to really excite and appeal to those who suffer with it. We act like the totality of OCD psychology is bad, but it also seems to be the key to reversing OCD, and may be a kind of superpower when properly utilized. 5. We have countless religious traditions that are thousands and thousands of years old which have developed techniques and rituals precisely for what OCD recovery needs- Getting out of a reactive state, getting into a state of gratitude and meditation, developing ascetic skills to overcome temptation (compulsions), being okay with uncertainty, creating a place of inner peace and compassion, having a system of accountability and reminders which keep you from slipping back into compulsive patterns, and doing all of this in community with people who experience the same struggle. So far, religion has been *the most* helpful thing I’ve done for my OCD. Here’s how this has played out in my own life: -Hesychastic prayer. This is an Eastern Orthodox tradition where you project the Jesus prayer, in repetition, channeling it not just from the mind or mouth but from the heart. It is deeply psychosomatic, with the goal of creating ego death and achieving a state of seeing God in all things. It creates a calm, warm feeling in my chest that feels identical to a psychedelic afterglow. It takes me out of my head and into my body, and the first time I tried it, with a prayer candle lit beside me, I experienced very rapid relief and was able to sleep for the first time without having any nightmares. I now do this consistently, along with other kinds of prayer and hymn recitation, and gratitude before meals, and it’s something I genuinely enjoy and look forward to. Since doing it, my compulsions have gone done by like 70%. Every time I feel myself slipping into compulsions, instead of doing them, I pause and pray. Prayer fills me with warmth, gratitude, and comfort. I feel connected to something greater than myself, my body becomes calm, my heart stops racing, and afterwards, I no longer feel compelled to perform my compulsions, because I know that it is harmful to myself and those around me, and that God is watching over me guiding me to act in a more thoughtful and wise way. This has single-handedly brought me more long term relief than any other OCD technique or treatment has. Not only has it relieved my OCD, but I have so much more energy, motivation, and self discipline in other areas of my life. It’s like I can feel my neurochemistry balance itself in real time. I’m eating healthier, my relationships are richer, I’m a better student, I feel more creatively inspired, and I have so much more self discipline to resist habits that are bad for me. I hope this may be helpful to anyone else who might be struggling. I’ve searched online and there’s really no information out there that I could find on religious ritual being an effective OCD treatment, but it’s been completely revolutionary in my life.

Hi friends. I recently had a relapse with OCD and I haven’t felt that real intense pain/fear/panic since I was first diagnosed 3 years ago. It was awful. I’ve been on medication and going to therapy for some time, and I am happy to report I have grown a lot. Long story short, it’s just become a burden for me recently trying to understand why this had to happen to me (and all of you). When I first started following Jesus, it was such a spiritual high. I had so much peace and joy, and I think within that first year with Him I became obsessed with the Bible and learning as much as I could. I think it was a sweet time, but suddenly a switch flipped. I became concerned that all my head knowledge, though I took to heart, became all I cared about. Then all the intrusive thoughts started, and you know the rest. I was relieved when I got my diagnosis, to know that scrupulosity is even a thing. But today, I sit and realize my OCD has taken on other forms (existential/fear of going insane) and then of course I started asking God “why me?”. And then… of course.. I feel bad for asking that. And then it triggered that same old feeling that I’m not in right standing with God. It’s so meta I can’t take it. Does anyone wonder why this had to be? I know the typical answers “we live in a broken world” and “God will use this for His glory” but is anyone just able to sit in that frustration, and work it out? I want to keep fighting, try understanding, like there’s this itch in me that I need to “figure out” something. But I know God isn’t the voice that’s speaking that to me. But gosh, it’s so brutal and hard. I believe God is carrying me through this. 2 Corinthians 12 has been a blessing for this. I just feel so weak. I get upset this is happening, start doubting God, and then feel guilty. It’s a stupid cycle and I see it. I have a very intellectual mind, and I find that most people with this kind of OCD share this trait. But it’s like, the logic doesn’t help. I just want God to sit in my bedroom and tell me it’s real, my faith is intact, and to keep trusting. I don’t know why He won’t do that for me, and I feel guilty for even feeling that way. Anyways, I don’t know what I’m seeking here, but for anyone feeling this way, know you’re not alone. I deeply love you all, even though we are all strangers. 1 Peter 5:9… right?

Hi NOCD community, I wanted to share my story of my journey so far with OCD to provide perspective to anyone who needs it. I can't believe how far I have come with a huge part because of my NOCD treatment and utilizing ERP. For reference I am a 24-year old male, so for anyone who is like me and on the fence with treatment, trust me it is worth it. If you ever want to talk about OCD and are not sure where to start or need guidance please do not hesitate to reach out to me. I am now almost 2-years into treatment and working on recovery to this day. Sending my support to all. My OCD Story Adolescence Growing up, I didn’t know what mental health was—or even much about who I was. I was somewhat consciously aware, but something always felt off. My life seemed surrounded by reacting to fear instead of exploring or discovering like a regular kid. It felt like there was a switch in my brain that never let me settle in. My earliest compulsions were more physical than mental. One example that likely went unnoticed was how I would obsessively organize and align my toys in a certain way. It may have seemed like I was just being finicky, but now I recognize this as an early sign of OCD. The key is understanding that anything can become a compulsion—it’s not about what you do, but why you do it. In my case, it was always to avoid a bad outcome or neutralize a feeling. Another moment that stands out was in preschool during a performance. I was reciting something I can’t remember in front of an audience—a common childhood fear—but the way I coped was by repeatedly hitting myself in the head with my fist. I wasn’t aware I was doing it, but it calmed me, even though inflicting pain had no logical connection to the fear itself. Looking back, this was clearly a physical tic. My dreams were disturbing too. I’d experience that terrifying space between sleep and consciousness. My parents once had to put my limbs in ice just to fully wake me. And even the process of going to sleep became ritualistic. I had to jump into bed using my left foot, pray a specific way (including naming everyone I didn’t want to be affected by harm), rotate clockwise, shake my pillow four times, and do various actions around my room—cleaning, checking the door, and more. All to prevent the visions in my mind from becoming real. Teenage Years Though my childhood was tough, things really escalated in high school. My family life was chaotic—divorce, shifting homes, and being the older sibling trying to hold it together. I was smart and creative, and I found joy in creative writing, fantasy books, cartoons, video production, and drawing. But the storm really hit freshman year of high school. I was bullied relentlessly—for being shorter, having low self-esteem, and dealing with an undiagnosed mental illness. One night while trying to fall asleep, I noticed my heart beating fast. I panicked, convinced something was wrong. My dad said it was heartburn and gave me soda (caffeine), which only made things worse. I slept maybe an hour, and we went to the ER the next morning. After a full workup and an EKG, the doctor concluded I was physically fine and gave me anti-anxiety medication. But that wasn’t the end. I had more episodes. I became obsessed with the idea that something was wrong with my body. I had blood drawn thinking I had a thyroid issue. I panicked at doctor’s visits, which spiked my blood pressure, fueling more health fears. I was also in an advanced biology class, learning about diseases and cancers—which triggered me to the point I felt like I was going to pass out. Motion sickness and vertigo became a daily fear, and I became terrified it would never go away. That became a core theme in my health-related OCD and deeply affected my quality of life. It was also during this time I developed HOCD (Homosexual OCD). Intrusive thoughts about my male friends consumed me. I couldn’t relax around them or enjoy hanging out. I compulsively told myself I was straight, watched porn to “test” my reaction, and mentally analyzed everything I thought or felt. It was exhausting. It chipped away at my confidence, especially with women, though I know other external factors played a role in that too. Still, I had no education around mental health and assumed this chaos in my mind was normal—or that anyone seeking help had to be “crazy.” I couldn’t have been more wrong. Adulthood Despite all that, I managed to graduate high school with good marks—even finishing at a new school I attended for just eight weeks after moving in with my mom. College was a major turning point. For the first time, I experienced independence and the ability to sit with my thoughts. I still didn’t know what I was dealing with, but being away from a broken home and forging my own identity was incredibly freeing. Freshman year felt like a fresh start…until the pandemic hit. Like many others, I was forced to return home. For someone with OCD, the sudden lack of control and isolation was devastating. I was trapped in my room, stuck in my head, with nothing but virtual classes and uncertainty. Still, I eventually got back to campus, focused on my career in the sports and entertainment industry, and was accepted into a prestigious program while working multiple internships and completing challenging coursework. But with roommates and stress came new obsessions—and still, no diagnosis. I eventually sought therapy for anxiety, realizing my mental state was unsustainable. That’s when two of my most distressing OCD subtypes emerged: Staring OCD and POCD. They worked together in the worst way—fears of inappropriately staring at people, especially children. It felt like I couldn’t exist in public without fearing I’d harm someone just by looking at them. It shattered my self-worth. I couldn’t enjoy life, couldn’t even look in the mirror. The guilt and shame consumed me. I turned to talk therapy, where I was diagnosed with severe anxiety and depression. While sessions brought momentary relief, it quickly became clear I wasn’t getting better. In fact, the act of confessing my thoughts—seeking reassurance—was fueling the OCD. Still, I didn’t have the language for it. After doing my own research (a compulsion in itself), I discovered POCD and Staring OCD. For the first time, I read stories that sounded exactly like mine. I brought this to my therapist, but they dismissed it. Unfortunately, OCD is still widely misunderstood—even among professionals. Because I didn’t fit the “cleaning and checking” stereotype, I wasn’t taken seriously. In 2023—just two years ago—I found NOCD, a teletherapy platform specializing in OCD. I scheduled a free consultation, thinking “Why not?” I was miserable and desperate for relief. The therapist who evaluated me confirmed: I had OCD. She administered the DSM-5 criteria and said I was a textbook case. This was the turning point. Through NOCD, I finally received proper treatment with Exposure and Response Prevention (ERP). I learned how OCD functions, how to track and reduce compulsions, and how to sit with discomfort instead of running from it. It took time—5 to 6 months before I noticed true change—but for the first time in my life, I felt heard. I wasn't alone. NOCD gave me a judgment-free space to unpack the most disturbing thoughts and to not be defined by them. I won’t sugarcoat it—this journey has been painful, frustrating, and nonlinear. I still live with OCD every day. But now I have tools. I’ve continued treatment with multiple NOCD therapists, joined support groups, and practiced exposures: scripting, imaginal scenarios, response prevention, you name it. I’ve learned to live with uncertainty instead of trying to solve the unsolvable. The biggest lesson? Stop trying to figure it out. OCD is emotional, not logical. The moment I stopped trying to outthink it and changed my relationship with it, everything shifted. Today, I’m not “cured,” but I’m grounded. I’m more myself than I’ve ever been. And now, I want to give back. I want to share my story so others know that they’re not alone—and that OCD doesn’t have to rule your life. Whether you're 14, 24, or 44—there is help, and there is hope.