This weekend, my boyfriend came to visit me. Before he arrived, I had so many compulsions—I was constantly seeking reassurance, even talking to ChatGPT right up until he got to my house. When he arrived, I tried to listen to what ChatGPT had told me and focus on being present. Even though I still had intrusive thoughts, I was able to feel better at times—I felt love, I wanted to kiss him, and I had moments of connection.
But at the same time, there were moments where he would speak kindly to me or express his feelings, and I would have thoughts like “I don’t care about him” or “I feel nothing.” I didn’t feel the compassion I thought I should, and that scared me. Still, overall, I felt relatively better than usual.
I had NOCD uninstalled until now, and on Wednesday, I have my first therapy appointment. But now, I’m doubting whether I even need therapy. I start thinking: “What if I can heal on my own?” or “What if going to therapy is a mistake?” And the worst one: “What if I go and realize I don’t have ROCD, and I actually just don’t like my boyfriend?”
My boyfriend keeps trying to help me see things rationally. He told me that I have unrealistic expectations of love and that I don’t need to feel constant affection to be in love. He also told me that if I truly didn’t love him, I wouldn’t be feeling so much distress about this. And logically, I know that’s true, but intrusive thoughts still scream the opposite.
After he left, I started feeling irritated with him when he talked through messages on the gc woth me and my best friend, like I couldn’t stand him, and that thought scared me. I also had moments thinking about that boy from school, that my mind was scared if me thinking about that random boy i dont know because a while ago i was scared of looking at other boys, ghinking im a horible gf . When I kissed my boyfriend, sometimes his image popped into my head, and I felt terrible.
My boyfriend tells me that since I feel guilty and distressed, it’s proof that I love him—because I wouldn’t be this anxious if I didn’t care. But then I get thoughts saying the exact opposite. It’s like my mind keeps creating arguments to convince me that my worst fear is real. I’m exhausted