Is ocd just a coping mechanism for resisting feelings you don’t like? Something has occurred to me in my recovery process. I’ve spent years fighting my feelings and thoughts. I tried everything - meditation, yoga, Cbt, somatic experiencing, Ativan. I wanted to escape the pain I felt and the anxiety and bad thoughts. Now that I think about it, my dad turned to alcohol for that and maybe I turned to OCD. I always had general anxiety as a kid, some depression too. Over the years, my anxiety attacks and panic attacks decreased, however my ocd has gotten completely out of control. The last few weeks I’ve been working on exposures to anxiety and my thoughts. It’s horrible stuff because I have to let myself just feel the anxiety attack and all of the horrible sensations (including derealization!). Just ride it out and let it do it’s thing. However I noticed that when I get anxious these days if I just let it do it’s thing it’ll peak and come down after some time. And I actually feel some relief afterwards. It feels very natural. The old me would try to squash it using Compulsion strategies to escape that feeling. Has anyone else encountered the notion that OCD might be a coping mechanism for dealing with difficult feelings you don’t like?

Looking back, I realize I’ve had OCD since I was 7. though I wasn’t diagnosed until I was 30. As a kid, I was consumed by fears I couldn’t explain: "What if God isn’t real? What happens when we die? How do I know I’m real?" These existential thoughts terrified me, and while everyone has them from time to time, I felt like they were consuming my life. By 12, I was having daily panic attacks about death and war, feeling untethered from reality as depersonalization and derealization set in. At 15, I turned to drinking, spending the next 15 years drunk, trying to escape my mind. I hated myself, struggled with my body, and my intrusive thoughts. Sobriety forced me to face it all head-on. In May 2022, I finally learned I had OCD. I remember the exact date: May 10th. Reading about it, I thought, "Oh my God, this is it. This explains everything." My main themes were existential OCD and self-harm intrusive thoughts. The self-harm fears were the hardest: "What if I kill myself? What if I lose control?" These thoughts terrified me because I didn’t want to die. ERP changed everything. At first, I thought, "You want me to confront my worst fears? Are you kidding me?" But ERP is gradual and done at your pace. My therapist taught me to lean into uncertainty instead of fighting it. She’d say, "Maybe you’ll kill yourself—who knows?" At first, it felt scary, but for OCD, it was freeing. Slowly, I realized my thoughts were just thoughts. ERP gave me my life back. I’m working again, I’m sober, and for the first time, I can imagine a future. If you’re scared to try ERP, I get it. But if you’re already living in fear, why not try a set of tools that can give you hope?

My earliest memory of OCD was at five years old. Even short trips away from home made me physically sick with fear. I couldn’t stop thinking, What if something bad happens when I’m not with my mom? In class, I’d get so nervous I’d feel like throwing up. By the time I was ten, my school teacher talked openly about her illnesses, and suddenly I was terrified of cancer and diseases I didn’t even understand. I thought, What if this happens to me? As I got older, my fears shifted, but the cycle stayed the same. I couldn’t stop ruminating about my thoughts: What if I get sick? What if something terrible happens when I’m not home? Then came sexually intrusive thoughts that made me feel ashamed, like something was deeply wrong with me. I would replay scenarios, imagine every “what if,” and subtly ask friends or family for reassurance without ever saying what was really going on. I was drowning in fear and exhaustion. At 13, I was officially diagnosed with OCD. Therapy back then wasn’t what it is now. I only had access to talk therapy and I was able to vent, but I wasn’t given tools. By the time I found out about ERP in 2020, I thought, There’s no way this will work for me. My thoughts are too bad, too different. What if the therapist thinks I’m awful for having them? But my therapist didn’t judge me. She taught me that OCD thoughts aren’t important—they’re just noise. I won’t lie, ERP was terrifying at first. I had to sit with thoughts like, did I ever say or do something in the past that hurt or upset someone? I didn’t want to face my fears, but I knew OCD wasn’t going away on its own. My therapist taught me to sit with uncertainty and let those thoughts pass without reacting. It wasn’t easy—ERP felt like going to the gym for your brain—but slowly, I felt the weight of my thoughts dissipate. Today, I still have intrusive thoughts because OCD isn’t curable—but they don’t control me anymore. ERP wasn’t easy. Facing the fears I’d avoided for years felt impossible at first, but I realized that avoiding them only gave OCD more power. Slowly, I learned to sit with the discomfort and see my thoughts for what they are: just thoughts.

So, I know my capacity to get fixated on things. And it's normally something that's relatively remote but, my latest issue is really getting to me and I was wondering if people have any advice. I'm avoiding getting too into specifics, as I don't want this to get reassurance-y but, in essence.. I came to the realisation recently that people who I'd been "friends" (feels like the wrong term now) when I was younger were not very nice people, and normalized a lot of very unpleasant behaviour towards other members of the group. They really normalized it, sold themselves as figures of authority, as older and more responsible and grown-up than others, and looking back, they acted horribly. And coming to this realisation, that I'd been manipulated into just accepting their behaviour has just... broken me. My OCD has latched onto it and I can't stop feeling irreversibly tainted by it. I've talked to others about it, and they've reassured me, told me it's not a big deal and that I hold myself to too high a standard, but none of that sticks. I feel better for a bit, then think 'Maybe when you told them you were skewing it to make yourself look better' or 'Did you leave out a crucial detail'. I keep ruminating over and over, trying to remember exactly how everything played out, trying to figure out if I fed into the behaviour, if I did something bad myself (because y'know, I feel like I was accepting of it at the time, so what does it say about my own values?). I know I need to stop doing all this if I want to improve, but then some part of me keeps saying 'So, you're just going to let yourself off the hook then?' Normally, I can rationalize my own fears to some degree, assure myself something won't happen, but the realness of the situation, and the fact I only came to understand the reality of it because the thought had been bothering me means it feels so much more all-encompassing. I know confessing in itself is a compulsion, but I keep feeling that if I'm not I'm somehow concealing what I 'really am' from others around me, and any positive interactions are me deceiving them in some way. I feel like I can't enjoy anything in life right now, and a good part of me feels I should not enjoy it ever again. If anybody has any advice on it, I'm all ears. Or even hearing if you relate to these feelings, I might appreciate the solidarity at least.