I can honestly remember when I was struggling with ocd and how crippling it was. I was too scared to go to a therapist or seek any kind of help in fears of being diagnosed with what I was afraid of. I’m so thankful for NOCD everyday, I have completely been myself with my therapist and NOCD is a judge free place. If you are thinking about seeking help here I highly recommend it. If you have any questions I’d be happy to answer:) thank you

I haven’t done a Q&A in over a year (my bad) but I used to do these at least once a month. Work is slow today, so please send me any questions you have about OCD and I’ll answer them as best as I can. A little about me: I’ve been subclinical/recovered for going on 5 years and I’ve been on this app volunteering since 2019 in an unofficial capacity—I’m not connected to the NOCD team, so I don’t have any badges. I did ERP treatment with my therapist in-person while I was also being treated for PTSD. I have OCD, PTSD, ADHD, depression, GAD, social anxiety, driving anxiety, and a few speech impediments.

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.

Hello everyone! This is my first post since downloading the NOCD app and wanted to share a little about my life with OCD. I was first diagnosed when I was 17 but truly started noticing there was something going on with me as early as 10. To summarize: I have the repetitive ritualistic type of OCD. Basically, I have a fear of becoming other people. I believe that if I perform an action, like turning off the sink or closing a door, or even breathing in and out while thinking about somebody, especially someone that I dislike, that eventually I will become just like that person or experience something they've been through that is negative; like health issues, personality issues, or social status decline. Simple example: I know this one dude named Richard, I worked with him in retail, and he told me about how his brother died at a young age. Now, it’s nighttime, and with that new information known about Richard, I believe, that If I take my contact out while thinking of Richard, or an image of him appears in my head while I’m taking out my contact, I believe that MY brother is going to eventually die too. What’s the solution?: I worked with another kid in retail. His name is Mikey, he was decently put together, and his brother didn’t die. So that means: Now with my contact still on my finger, I put it to my eyeball, and keep tapping at my eyeball with my contact while trying to get an image of Mikey perfectly timed, so that I can cancel out the image of Richard and save my brothers life. This is a challenge because the image of Richard, or I should say, the fear that my brother could die from this thought, is strong, and often times I have to think of other people (from other life experiences) along with Mikey just to feel confident that I got the image cancelled enough to move forward. Every day, I complete many actions and with every action comes a thought or image of some person I’ve encountered in my life that I’m either afraid of becoming or obtaining the same negative life experiences, which therefore means I also have all the othet people in my mind, at the ready, that cancel them out too. Every day I cancel people out and repeat actions disguised to the public. Sometimes it’s noticeable, but knowing how to cover your ugly side while making sure you don’t mess up your future with the wrong thought is just what I call life. I’m a man with a thousand people in his head and its been an EXHAUSTING journey. But through therapy and acceptance of myself, I have found a way to love with it. Like anything else, there are horrible days and okay days, but this is apart of me forever and im lucky to share it all with you! Can anyone relate?? Feel free to comment or reach out! - Matt