Hey guys. I don’t know if any of you have already seen this study (it is from a little while ago) but I just wanted to share it for anyone who is struggling with exposure therapy because seeing this study is something that has helped me. Here’s the link: http://newsroom.ucla.edu/releases/behavioral-therapy-increases-connectivity-in-brains-of-people-with-ocd As it states in the article, “The changes appeared to compensate for, rather than correct, underlying brain dysfunction”. There is of course no cure for OCD currently, but seeing this study gave me so much hope because the fact that CBT can actually change the brain of someone with OCD is amazing in my opinion. The changes to your brain that can actually reduce your OCD symptoms are soooooo much more important than the temporary relief we get when we engage in our compulsions.

I realize this may not work for everyone, particularly those who are struggling with moral or existential forms of OCD, but as someone struggling with relationship OCD, here’s my proposition and what’s worked- 1. ERP and resisting compulsions involves intentionally exposing yourself to distress and not trying to do anything about it, but just sit with it. It is a fundamentally ascetic and meditative practice. 2. Resisting compulsions also means overcoming your bodily desire (because more than anything OCD is a nervous system response, not a rational one) for relief from distress, and instead aligning yourself with a higher principle that overcomes your temporal state. 3. OCD also operates similarly to addiction, and recovery outcomes for addicts are significantly improved through belief in a higher power. Higher power is actually one of the core elements of AA programs because it makes self discipline a lot easier. 4. ERP/CBD is effective, in part, because it already fits within the psychology of someone with OCD. What I mean by this is that it involves homework, specific procedures done at regular intervals, intense self discipline, and is overall pretty formulaic/ritualistic/somatic in nature. And we know that it works, and this method of addressing OCD tends to really excite and appeal to those who suffer with it. We act like the totality of OCD psychology is bad, but it also seems to be the key to reversing OCD, and may be a kind of superpower when properly utilized. 5. We have countless religious traditions that are thousands and thousands of years old which have developed techniques and rituals precisely for what OCD recovery needs- Getting out of a reactive state, getting into a state of gratitude and meditation, developing ascetic skills to overcome temptation (compulsions), being okay with uncertainty, creating a place of inner peace and compassion, having a system of accountability and reminders which keep you from slipping back into compulsive patterns, and doing all of this in community with people who experience the same struggle. So far, religion has been *the most* helpful thing I’ve done for my OCD. Here’s how this has played out in my own life: -Hesychastic prayer. This is an Eastern Orthodox tradition where you project the Jesus prayer, in repetition, channeling it not just from the mind or mouth but from the heart. It is deeply psychosomatic, with the goal of creating ego death and achieving a state of seeing God in all things. It creates a calm, warm feeling in my chest that feels identical to a psychedelic afterglow. It takes me out of my head and into my body, and the first time I tried it, with a prayer candle lit beside me, I experienced very rapid relief and was able to sleep for the first time without having any nightmares. I now do this consistently, along with other kinds of prayer and hymn recitation, and gratitude before meals, and it’s something I genuinely enjoy and look forward to. Since doing it, my compulsions have gone done by like 70%. Every time I feel myself slipping into compulsions, instead of doing them, I pause and pray. Prayer fills me with warmth, gratitude, and comfort. I feel connected to something greater than myself, my body becomes calm, my heart stops racing, and afterwards, I no longer feel compelled to perform my compulsions, because I know that it is harmful to myself and those around me, and that God is watching over me guiding me to act in a more thoughtful and wise way. This has single-handedly brought me more long term relief than any other OCD technique or treatment has. Not only has it relieved my OCD, but I have so much more energy, motivation, and self discipline in other areas of my life. It’s like I can feel my neurochemistry balance itself in real time. I’m eating healthier, my relationships are richer, I’m a better student, I feel more creatively inspired, and I have so much more self discipline to resist habits that are bad for me. I hope this may be helpful to anyone else who might be struggling. I’ve searched online and there’s really no information out there that I could find on religious ritual being an effective OCD treatment, but it’s been completely revolutionary in my life.

Hey y’all just wanted to share some stuff I feel has been helping me a lot as of lately. I been thinking a lot about my mental wellness in relation to physical wellness as I tend to have chronic pain and wonder how much of my anxious panicked tension is a factor because I also have a weird hip issue that moslty comes from skateboarding when I was young. A big thing that always drew my attention is my mobility and movement that i feel like can be easily overlooked because i am a bit hypermobile. So I’ve always experimented with different ways of managing the dysfunction because there are good days of feeling a lot more physically capable and slight better range of motion/movement where im reminded that there is definitely pain/discomfort that can be alleviated. Now to also bring up that I’ve been recovering from severe OCD for the last about 2 years(undiagnosed since a child) and facing a lot of things no doubt since than, tons of improvement after being able to identify the cause(want to point out I’m self diagnosed still, I try to implement the gold standard of ERP myself as much as I can along with other therapy practices but obviously understand that professional help ultimately is the best thing I can do, no health insurance/poor). Still in recovery no doubt but yea i really can say I’ve been doing a lot better with my OCD. So now going back to the chronic pain I also want to mention the way I’ve noticed my breathing that also feels as though it can be shallow in relation to the previous mentioned dysfunction that leads for me to have chronic pain. So now getting to the things that have helped me, one is understanding the role the psoas plays into your physical sort of biomechanics and then the way it is connected to our emotional responses, as it is known as the fight flight or freeze muscle. The way we can hold so much stress in our body can really wreak havoc, and the more I learn and understand myself and OCD the more it’s like I unpack to to the extent how much it’s completely taken over so much of me. I just started to notice this year how hypervigilant I am, and having Pure O I sort of end up feelin as though even in my own mind I am hypervigilant just scared of the intrusive thoughts/doubts worries and even when they aren’t present just on edge ready to fight back against it at any given moment. It makes so much sense why I ended up with insane amount of tension in my left psoas muscle and then that causing me to also build tension in surrounding areas of that muscle. Finding some chronic pain relief thru identifying where the heavy tension is around the psoas area and massaging it, hitting the trigger points to release the muscle has had so much relief and it really is also just giving me a sense of mental well being that truly is just great. I’ve always struggled with meditation but I’m also realizing how hard it can be when muscles are constantly in fight/flight/freeze mode. Mindful breathing along with the massage/trigger point relief is the first time I actually felt the air I was breathing pass through my body in a way that just made sense. Like as if some parts of my body haven’t had air pass in ages, and really feeling in tune with my senses and the room I was in. My body really is just used to being fearful, and I’ve tried to find ways of relieving the tension but with time and just kind of listening to my body, trying to learn about different ways of rehabilitating these types of chronic pain, mindfulness, mindful breathing, along with the different therapeutic tools for ocd I actually am starting to really let go of things and not have my body in constant fear/panic mode because speaking for most people whose OCD has gotten so severe, there really is a sort of trauma from having to deal with how bad it can get which your body keeps track of. Still continuing this journey recovering, and I hope y’all are also continuing !!

Hi NOCD community, I wanted to share my story of my journey so far with OCD to provide perspective to anyone who needs it. I can't believe how far I have come with a huge part because of my NOCD treatment and utilizing ERP. For reference I am a 24-year old male, so for anyone who is like me and on the fence with treatment, trust me it is worth it. If you ever want to talk about OCD and are not sure where to start or need guidance please do not hesitate to reach out to me. I am now almost 2-years into treatment and working on recovery to this day. Sending my support to all. My OCD Story Adolescence Growing up, I didn’t know what mental health was—or even much about who I was. I was somewhat consciously aware, but something always felt off. My life seemed surrounded by reacting to fear instead of exploring or discovering like a regular kid. It felt like there was a switch in my brain that never let me settle in. My earliest compulsions were more physical than mental. One example that likely went unnoticed was how I would obsessively organize and align my toys in a certain way. It may have seemed like I was just being finicky, but now I recognize this as an early sign of OCD. The key is understanding that anything can become a compulsion—it’s not about what you do, but why you do it. In my case, it was always to avoid a bad outcome or neutralize a feeling. Another moment that stands out was in preschool during a performance. I was reciting something I can’t remember in front of an audience—a common childhood fear—but the way I coped was by repeatedly hitting myself in the head with my fist. I wasn’t aware I was doing it, but it calmed me, even though inflicting pain had no logical connection to the fear itself. Looking back, this was clearly a physical tic. My dreams were disturbing too. I’d experience that terrifying space between sleep and consciousness. My parents once had to put my limbs in ice just to fully wake me. And even the process of going to sleep became ritualistic. I had to jump into bed using my left foot, pray a specific way (including naming everyone I didn’t want to be affected by harm), rotate clockwise, shake my pillow four times, and do various actions around my room—cleaning, checking the door, and more. All to prevent the visions in my mind from becoming real. Teenage Years Though my childhood was tough, things really escalated in high school. My family life was chaotic—divorce, shifting homes, and being the older sibling trying to hold it together. I was smart and creative, and I found joy in creative writing, fantasy books, cartoons, video production, and drawing. But the storm really hit freshman year of high school. I was bullied relentlessly—for being shorter, having low self-esteem, and dealing with an undiagnosed mental illness. One night while trying to fall asleep, I noticed my heart beating fast. I panicked, convinced something was wrong. My dad said it was heartburn and gave me soda (caffeine), which only made things worse. I slept maybe an hour, and we went to the ER the next morning. After a full workup and an EKG, the doctor concluded I was physically fine and gave me anti-anxiety medication. But that wasn’t the end. I had more episodes. I became obsessed with the idea that something was wrong with my body. I had blood drawn thinking I had a thyroid issue. I panicked at doctor’s visits, which spiked my blood pressure, fueling more health fears. I was also in an advanced biology class, learning about diseases and cancers—which triggered me to the point I felt like I was going to pass out. Motion sickness and vertigo became a daily fear, and I became terrified it would never go away. That became a core theme in my health-related OCD and deeply affected my quality of life. It was also during this time I developed HOCD (Homosexual OCD). Intrusive thoughts about my male friends consumed me. I couldn’t relax around them or enjoy hanging out. I compulsively told myself I was straight, watched porn to “test” my reaction, and mentally analyzed everything I thought or felt. It was exhausting. It chipped away at my confidence, especially with women, though I know other external factors played a role in that too. Still, I had no education around mental health and assumed this chaos in my mind was normal—or that anyone seeking help had to be “crazy.” I couldn’t have been more wrong. Adulthood Despite all that, I managed to graduate high school with good marks—even finishing at a new school I attended for just eight weeks after moving in with my mom. College was a major turning point. For the first time, I experienced independence and the ability to sit with my thoughts. I still didn’t know what I was dealing with, but being away from a broken home and forging my own identity was incredibly freeing. Freshman year felt like a fresh start…until the pandemic hit. Like many others, I was forced to return home. For someone with OCD, the sudden lack of control and isolation was devastating. I was trapped in my room, stuck in my head, with nothing but virtual classes and uncertainty. Still, I eventually got back to campus, focused on my career in the sports and entertainment industry, and was accepted into a prestigious program while working multiple internships and completing challenging coursework. But with roommates and stress came new obsessions—and still, no diagnosis. I eventually sought therapy for anxiety, realizing my mental state was unsustainable. That’s when two of my most distressing OCD subtypes emerged: Staring OCD and POCD. They worked together in the worst way—fears of inappropriately staring at people, especially children. It felt like I couldn’t exist in public without fearing I’d harm someone just by looking at them. It shattered my self-worth. I couldn’t enjoy life, couldn’t even look in the mirror. The guilt and shame consumed me. I turned to talk therapy, where I was diagnosed with severe anxiety and depression. While sessions brought momentary relief, it quickly became clear I wasn’t getting better. In fact, the act of confessing my thoughts—seeking reassurance—was fueling the OCD. Still, I didn’t have the language for it. After doing my own research (a compulsion in itself), I discovered POCD and Staring OCD. For the first time, I read stories that sounded exactly like mine. I brought this to my therapist, but they dismissed it. Unfortunately, OCD is still widely misunderstood—even among professionals. Because I didn’t fit the “cleaning and checking” stereotype, I wasn’t taken seriously. In 2023—just two years ago—I found NOCD, a teletherapy platform specializing in OCD. I scheduled a free consultation, thinking “Why not?” I was miserable and desperate for relief. The therapist who evaluated me confirmed: I had OCD. She administered the DSM-5 criteria and said I was a textbook case. This was the turning point. Through NOCD, I finally received proper treatment with Exposure and Response Prevention (ERP). I learned how OCD functions, how to track and reduce compulsions, and how to sit with discomfort instead of running from it. It took time—5 to 6 months before I noticed true change—but for the first time in my life, I felt heard. I wasn't alone. NOCD gave me a judgment-free space to unpack the most disturbing thoughts and to not be defined by them. I won’t sugarcoat it—this journey has been painful, frustrating, and nonlinear. I still live with OCD every day. But now I have tools. I’ve continued treatment with multiple NOCD therapists, joined support groups, and practiced exposures: scripting, imaginal scenarios, response prevention, you name it. I’ve learned to live with uncertainty instead of trying to solve the unsolvable. The biggest lesson? Stop trying to figure it out. OCD is emotional, not logical. The moment I stopped trying to outthink it and changed my relationship with it, everything shifted. Today, I’m not “cured,” but I’m grounded. I’m more myself than I’ve ever been. And now, I want to give back. I want to share my story so others know that they’re not alone—and that OCD doesn’t have to rule your life. Whether you're 14, 24, or 44—there is help, and there is hope.