For people in long-term relationships only please!

I’ve been trying to put into words what living with R-OCD has felt like for me, especially in a long-term relationship. If you’re in a long-term relationship, please tell me whether you can relate to any of these experiences, and share examples if you feel comfortable. Been with my partner for 8 years, married for 2 (10 in total). For me, it can start with a thought like, What if I married the wrong person? What if I’m not really in love? What if I’m settling, or we’re not compatible? Part of what makes this especially complicated is that I don’t always feel as though I consciously “chose” him. He pursued me, and I wanted to be in a relationship. It also helped that he offered me financial stability. At the same time, he was never really my type, and he doesn’t have what I once thought was the most important trait I would want in a partner: humour. Then I start analyzing everything: whether there’s still a spark, what an interaction meant, and whether a small annoyance or “ick” is proof of something bigger. For some reason, I have a *million* icks at the moment. I can replay old memories and conflicts, second-guess my choices, and imagine whether I’d be happier in another life. Sometimes even ordinary things about my husband—his clothes, the way he talks, or how he sleeps—can suddenly set off that feeling of aversion. Then I panic about what the feeling means and worry about how critical or unkind I’ve been. I can feel calm for a while, then a doubt comes back and I’m pulled into trying to solve the whole relationship right now. I look for reassurance or signs that will finally give me certainty, but the relief doesn’t last. I’ve spoken to married people about this, and they often say something along the lines of, “Sure, he isn’t funny, but he has other traits that a comedic partner might not have.” They’ve also reminded me that I don’t have every one of my needs met by my spouse, and that this is okay because one person isn’t meant to fulfill every need. I can understand that intellectually, but I still go back and forth between my doubts and that perspective. Here’s the thing though: I have quite literally everything I could dream of. If I want it or need it, he’ll make it happen. I am so unbelievably taken care of that i wonder how I got so lucky and that I don’t deserve having such a comfortable life. Even then: I still flip flop so hard. One of the hardest parts is not knowing what to make of it. I know that having OCD doesn’t automatically mean every concern is OCD, and I’m not saying real relationship problems can’t exist. I’m trying to understand the difference between a concern I need to address and a thought loop demanding an answer I may not be able to get with total certainty. One more thing: Another layer that makes this especially complicated for me is having ADHD. I’ve always craved newness, novelty, and stimulation. I can jump from one hobby or interest to another, constantly looking for something that feels exciting and engaging. A ten-year relationship is the longest-lasting thing in my life, which is meaningful, but it can also feel confusing because relationships naturally become familiar and predictable over time. I can’t simply move on to something new whenever the initial excitement fades, and sometimes I wonder whether my restlessness is about the relationship or whether I’m struggling with the normal lack of constant novelty. Some people crave the comfort of an old relationship, but I honestly feel like I’m bored. If you’re in a long-term relationship, can you relate to any of these experiences? Have you struggled with constantly analyzing the relationship, checking your feelings, wondering whether you chose the wrong person, or feeling like every little thing must mean something? If so, please share specific examples of what it has looked like for you. It’s hard feeling like you’re all alone in your feelings.

Epanonymous

Date posted: 18h

I relate to all of this. You described the experience of ROCD in crystal clear detail. Your nervous system is over-responding to normal thoughts. They scare you because there’s a bigger fear underpinning all of it. Sometimes I think of OCD as like having an allergic reaction to your own imagination. You are feeling stuck because you can give yourself limitless evidence for any of your thoughts, whether they scare you or soothe you. That’s because, separate from the OCD, the feelings you’re having about your relationship are normal. Lots of those thoughts are true. After several years, we will notice things we dislike about the people we love. They will get under our skin. The distance that creates the initial intrigue is often eroded. And here’s what having OCD makes it feel impossible to accept: That’s not something to fix. It is normal for people to have flaws. It is normal for relationships to go through phases of closeness and distance. Some degree of friction is inevitable, because we’re human. I know it’s hard to swallow what I’m saying because you’re scared each of these thoughts means something bigger. When human beings don’t have the whole picture, we fill in the rest. When we don’t know what’s going on, we make up stories. The real cycle in OCD isn’t “intrusive thought—>compulsion.” It’s “thought—>panic—>unhelpful story—>compulsion.” That’s how I think of it anyway. We make an assessment that our thoughts don’t belong in our head, for whatever personal reason, because that thought elicits a big fear, and we try to squash that fear instead of understanding why it’s there. For people like us, it’s scary to think we might be spending time with someone who’s a bad fit. It might be scary to realize that there are things about our partner that give us ick, or that they might feel that way about us. But it’s an inevitable part of being close with someone. We are going to see through each other a little bit, and we are also going to feel restless and insecure sometimes. The issue in OCD isn’t learning to tolerate uncertainty. I really think clinicians who don’t have lived experience get this wrong. It’s about getting calm and spacious enough to hold the tension of a dialectic. Two things can be true. Your husband might make you cringe sometimes, and he might be a wonderful person to spend your life with. It’s about replacing that but with an and. OCD has us screaming, “IS IT BLACK OR IS IT WHITE, DAMN IT??!” Reality is marbled. It might even be colorful. When you engage with trying to figure out if he’s right for you, you’re missing the point. Yes, some people are a pretty good fit for us while others aren’t. I’m not saying that isn’t true. I’m saying that loving someone and being compatible with someone are about so, so much more than what you *think.* When you can get quiet and calm and really be with yourself, you will find a bone-deep knowing. There is a truth inside you that doesn’t engage in this debate. For someone experiencing high anxiety, accessing this place can feel impossible. I have a few practices in my pocket that help me. I take walks in beautiful places with nothing in my ears. It sounds simple because it is, but every time I do it, it feels like a revelation. I feel like I’m waking up and like I’m real again. Just strolling through my neighborhood makes me feel present. I make a point to engage with things I notice; this keeps me from getting lost in thought. My myopic rumination cannot hold a candle to the majesty of nature. For me, walking is a spiritual practice because it gives me perspective and reminds me of my place. When I’m acutely anxious, I know my answer is to come back to my body. Rumination is a form of dissociation. For the last few years, I’ve started doing something that scares me, which is dancing. Whenever I hear a song that makes me want to move, I add it to a certain playlist. Then when I need to get embodied again, I put that playlist on. I’m a goofy dancer, and eventually I will laugh at myself. In those moments, I feel like I hold some kind of key to joy. Dancing like a fool with a big grin on my face. It may not last long, but it does very good things to my brain. It can really jolt me out of a funk. That’s what works for me, and what works for you will be different, but I encourage you to explore your life along those themes. What gets you out of your head? And what makes you feel like a tiny part of the big picture? Finding and practicing these things gives us a lot of agency and perspective. The biggest takeaway I can give you is this: You have to stop trying to figure it out. Your mind is a skilled lawyer that can argue both sides of the case. Drop the case. Let that lawyer rest until serious charges need to be brought. Because this is not a real problem. This is a misguided way of self-protecting, and it’s backfiring and making you miserable. Some of the hardest, most important work that those of us with OCD can do is learn to trust ourselves. We start in small ways, and eventually we start undermining the fear that drives our OCD. Your goal should be to trust that if there is a real problem in your relationship, you will notice, and you will handle it. You are a self-aware person who deserves a healthy relationship and won’t waste time ignoring issues. If you can build confidence in that truth that seems so evident to me—a stranger—then you will gain access to a really powerful part of yourself. Lean on that, and let the worried part of you rest. You have such a clear understanding of what’s going on. You are not crazy, and you’re not alone. You just want love like the rest of us, and you’re burning yourself out trying to ensure it. Take a deep breath. You are going to be okay. 🩵

For people in long-term relationships only please!

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