You got this

I’ve noticed that I’m somewhat happier also ignoring my thoughts than I am instead of doing compulsions (I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired atp) but I’ve heard you’re technically supposed to do erp rather than pushing under the rug. But idk if I have a thought I just refuse to think about it again and im fine even if I want to do compulsions

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?

My earliest memory of OCD was at five years old. Even short trips away from home made me physically sick with fear. I couldn’t stop thinking, What if something bad happens when I’m not with my mom? In class, I’d get so nervous I’d feel like throwing up. By the time I was ten, my school teacher talked openly about her illnesses, and suddenly I was terrified of cancer and diseases I didn’t even understand. I thought, What if this happens to me? As I got older, my fears shifted, but the cycle stayed the same. I couldn’t stop ruminating about my thoughts: What if I get sick? What if something terrible happens when I’m not home? Then came sexually intrusive thoughts that made me feel ashamed, like something was deeply wrong with me. I would replay scenarios, imagine every “what if,” and subtly ask friends or family for reassurance without ever saying what was really going on. I was drowning in fear and exhaustion. At 13, I was officially diagnosed with OCD. Therapy back then wasn’t what it is now. I only had access to talk therapy and I was able to vent, but I wasn’t given tools. By the time I found out about ERP in 2020, I thought, There’s no way this will work for me. My thoughts are too bad, too different. What if the therapist thinks I’m awful for having them? But my therapist didn’t judge me. She taught me that OCD thoughts aren’t important—they’re just noise. I won’t lie, ERP was terrifying at first. I had to sit with thoughts like, did I ever say or do something in the past that hurt or upset someone? I didn’t want to face my fears, but I knew OCD wasn’t going away on its own. My therapist taught me to sit with uncertainty and let those thoughts pass without reacting. It wasn’t easy—ERP felt like going to the gym for your brain—but slowly, I felt the weight of my thoughts dissipate. Today, I still have intrusive thoughts because OCD isn’t curable—but they don’t control me anymore. ERP wasn’t easy. Facing the fears I’d avoided for years felt impossible at first, but I realized that avoiding them only gave OCD more power. Slowly, I learned to sit with the discomfort and see my thoughts for what they are: just thoughts.