Happy OCD Awareness Week, everyone! What's one thing you wish people understood about OCD? We'll compile your answers (they'll be anonymous) and share them on social media to teach more people about what it's really like to liv with OCD!

I have a lot of thoughts about the universe, and they’re overwhelming—like being caught in a rip current, except it’s all inside my head. Most of the time, they’re about how small we are, how there really isn’t a “we” because our bodies aren’t truly ours—we’re just bacteria, cells, and microbes. The thoughts spiral, deeper and deeper, smaller and smaller, coiling until suddenly, I’m pulled under, drowning in a whirlpool. I’ve never felt like this before, and I’m convinced I’ve been faking it somehow. For the past few weeks, my OCD has been worse than it’s ever been in my 20 years of life. Or maybe I’m just more aware of it now. Has anyone else had their OCD suddenly get really bad? Does it ever end—if it even can? I’ve convinced myself that my intrusive thoughts aren’t actually intrusive, that my OCD is a choice, and that everything I do is intentional. As for compulsions, I don’t have the typical “If I don’t do ____ then ____ will happen” kind of thoughts. Instead, my brain simply commands, “Do ____,” and I always give in. It’s so loud in my head, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m an imposter. Like I don’t belong here—like my presence on this app is an intrusion, invalidating everyone else’s struggles just by downloading it and daring to post. If anyone feels that way, if you think I’m intruding, I’m sorry. I only came here because I have no one to share my diagnosis with. Pouring my thoughts out, hoping someone might understand, feels less suffocating than journaling. Journaling is like letting a wound fester—each word burying the thoughts deeper, leaving them to decay in silence, for nobody to ever read but myself.

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.

I get asked about the name NOCD a lot. People might want to know how it’s pronounced, and they’re curious about our story. Every time, I’m excited to share a bit about what the name means—in fact, it’s an opportunity for me to talk about something everyone should know about OCD. First things first: it’s pronounced “No-CD.” And it actually means a couple things, both central to our mission: To restore hope for people with OCD through better awareness and treatment. The first meaning of our name is about awareness: Know OCD. Though we’ve come a long way, not enough people truly know what OCD is or what it’s like. How many times have you heard someone say “Don’t be so OCD about that,” or “I wish I had a little OCD. My car is a mess!” Things like that may seem innocent, but they trivialize the condition and keep most people with OCD—around 8 million in the US alone—from getting the help they need. The second meaning of NOCD is about treatment: No-CD. To go a bit deeper: Say “No” to the compulsive disorder. On one level, this is also related to knowing OCD—noto means “to know” in Latin. This inspired the name NOTO, the operations and technology infrastructure that powers NOCD the way an engine powers a vehicle. But this meaning goes even further. It has to do with how you can manage OCD symptoms—learning to resist compulsions. This is the foundation of exposure and response prevention (ERP) therapy, the most effective, evidence-based form of treatment for OCD. Learning how to resist compulsions with ERP changed my life, and it taught me how important it is to get treatment from a specialty-trained therapist who truly understands how OCD works. I’ll give you an example. When I was 20, my life was going according to plan. I was thriving on the field as a college quarterback, doing well in school, even winning awards—until OCD struck out of nowhere. I started having taboo intrusive thoughts, things that horrified me and went against my core values and beliefs. Desperate for help, I saw several different therapists—but no one diagnosed me with OCD. At one point, I was instructed to snap a rubber band against my wrist whenever I had an intrusive thought. It was supposed to stop the thoughts, but it only made my symptoms worse. Driven into severe depression, I had to put my entire life on pause. Once I started ERP with a therapist who understood OCD, I learned why: you can’t stop intrusive thoughts from occurring. Everyone has them—and the more you try to get rid of them, the worse they get. Anything you do to suppress them is actually a compulsion, whether it’s counting in your head, snapping a rubber band against your wrist, or using substances to drown the thoughts out. To get better, you have to learn to resist compulsions and accept uncertainty. OCD doesn’t get to decide how you live your life. How do you educate the people in your life about OCD? Whether friends, family, or strangers, I’d love to hear how you share your understanding and raise awareness about OCD.