Checking & "Just Right" in My ERP Journey

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?

Hi everyone, I’m Andrea and I am a member of the Intake Team here at NOCD. In junior high, I was known as the “aneurysm girl” because I was convinced any small headache meant I was dying. At just 12 years old, I read something that triggered my OCD, and from that moment on, my brain latched onto catastrophic health fears. Any strange sensation in my body felt like proof that something was seriously wrong. I constantly sought reassurance, avoided being alone, and felt trapped in an endless cycle of fear. Over time, my OCD shifted themes, but health anxiety was always there, lurking in the background. I turned to drinking to numb my mind, trying to escape the fear that never let up. Then, in 2016, everything spiraled. I was sitting at work, feeling completely fine, when suddenly my vision felt strange—something was “off.” My mind convinced me I was having a stroke. I called an ambulance, launching myself into one of the darkest periods of my life. I visited doctors multiple times a week, terrified I was dying, yet every test came back normal. The fear never loosened its grip. For years, I cycled in and out of therapy, desperately trying to find answers, but no one recognized what was really happening. I was always told I had anxiety or depression, but OCD was never mentioned. I was suicidal, believing I would never escape the torment of my mind. It wasn’t until 2022—after years of struggling, hitting rock bottom, and finally seeking specialized OCD treatment—that I got the right diagnosis. ERP therapy at NOCD was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it saved my life. Today, I’m 34, sober, and living a life I never thought was possible. Do I still have hard days? Absolutely. But I am no longer a prisoner to my fears. The thoughts still come, but they don’t control me anymore. They don’t dictate my every move. Life isn’t perfect, but it no longer knocks me off my feet. If you’re struggling with health OCD or somatic OCD, I see you. I know how terrifying and isolating it can be. But I also know that it can get better. If you have any questions about health & somatic OCD, ERP, and breaking the OCD cycle, I’d love to tell you what I’ve learned first hand. Drop your questions below, and I’ll answer all of them!

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!