Does anyone reading here think you can love your family so much , that ocd tries to take that away from you? That you can love TOO much ?

Around 10 years ago when I started getting violent OCD intrusive thoughts, I also started fearing that I was a sociopath. I began overanalyzing everything — especially my emotions. It's like if I could prove I had emotions it proved I wasn't a sociopath. I care deeply about my family — I worry about them, I want them to be safe and happy, I want them to get theit deepest desires — but I don’t know what love "feels" like, if its supposed to feel like anything. People describe love as this warm, obvious, fuzzy emotion, but I don’t experience it the way I think I’m supposed to. Is it supposed to be intense? Constant? Loud? Because I’m not sure I’ve ever felt that. My family isn’t very emotionally expressive either. I cherish hugs from them when I get them, I initiate most hugs with my parents (but I don't like hugs from other people, like co workers) but overall my family doesnt show affection much, and that’s made me question if I’m even capable of love. I overanalyze my feelings constantly — especially after realizing I don’t feel connected to God in the way my old church said I should. I don’t love God. I don’t feel anything toward Him — we’ve never met obviously so I just never got a connection with Him. But growing up, that felt like a sin in itself. As a teen, I felt ashamed knowing I cared more for my parents than for God, especially when church messages said God had to come first. There’s a song by Mary Mary that says, “I love you more than my mother, my father…” and it used to make me feel broken. My feelings were in direct contradiction with what I was taught, and that shame never fully left me. OCD latched onto that hard. It’s only after a coworker passed away — and I found myself crying multiple times over it — that I realized I do care deeply for people. But even that realization felt pathetic. Why did I need such an extreme moment to feel something “real”? & why didn't I care for another creepy bigoted co worker when his son was sick? I felt nothing. I’m scared my OCD is convincing me that I’m heartless, even though I want connection. I crave love. I like hugs. It’s exhausting and terrifying to doubt my own humanity like this. I hate this fear. I hate that I don’t trust myself. I hate that OCD makes me question my morality, my emotions — everything that makes me me. Has anyone else experienced anything like this? How do I even explain this to a therapist

I’m struggling with something I’m afraid to even admit out loud. I’ve been in a long-term relationship with someone I love deeply. He’s kind, safe, and emotionally close to me — and we’ve built a life together. But I keep obsessing over the fact that I don’t feel much sexual attraction anymore. Or maybe… I never truly did? At the beginning, I felt butterflies, excitement, connection — and I assumed that meant I was also attracted to him physically. But now, after reading so much and reflecting more deeply, I’m starting to wonder if I ever truly felt sexual desire in the way I was “supposed to.” Maybe my feelings were more about emotional longing, comfort, and romantic closeness — but not sexual chemistry. And now I don’t know what that means. OCD makes it so much worse. It constantly tells me: – “If you really loved him, you’d want him.” – “You’re leading him on.” – “What if you’re lying to yourself?” – “If you try to fix this and fail, you’ll have to leave.” I feel stuck between wanting to fight for this relationship — and being terrified that trying will just prove it’s hopeless. Has anyone experienced something like this? Can OCD really make you question something so deeply personal? And how do you move forward when even trying feels terrifying? Any thoughts or support would mean the world right now.

Hi, I feel so creepy with losing connection with one of my closest people in my life, my two daughters who grew up with me during the years I was hiding my ocd. I feel they are seeing me as a narcissistic person instead of taking in consideration that I collapsed in the last part of their teenage years due to so severe ocd that I took my self out of the home to "protect them" ad I was convinced people would be damaged if they came close to me. Also that I never considered me as valuable to them. I felt sorry for them that I were their mother during their entire childhood. In their teenage years I was not available, drowning my self in work avoiding by all costs my compulsive thoughts and the horror I was dealing with. Today they see me as a mother who left them, not taking care of them and only thinking about my self. They never sat down with me after the diagnosis was clear in 2023, and they took.active distance to me in 2018. They sometimes talk to me, like once a year, in Christmas at my parents house, but never take initiative to have contact. I can't deal with it on an emotional level, I feel totally numbed. I love them more than anything in the world and did everything I could since they where born up to the time when my ocd really started to take a toll on me and I withdraw more and more from the familiy. I don't know how to handle because it seems that they think I am a mother who doesn't care or did care, but my ocd is ignored and it feels as if they see it as an excuse for bad behavior. I don't know, it's my guessing. I am not trying to make them change any of their ideas about their childhood and the needs I could not meet. I am so sorry about it. What I can't understand is that they refuse to deal with the fact that I been ill. We are a big resourceful family, but this part of my ocd is hidden back my role as the creative, crazy black sheep, and on top of it all I have somehow succeeded in my profession at the years where I "disappeared ", so it makes it even harder to explain that I spent between 4 and 24 hours on my ocd each day. It's just that I was running my own business which required me and just me as the producer of my product . If I did not function some days or weeks no-one knew as long as I delivered what I was suppose to. In the end I didn't do that either, but for long time I managed against all odds and the he'll of my horrible pure ocd. Anyone who can relate I appreciate all kinds of responses to this. I didn't even speak with my daughters on my birthday or theirs. They don't want to talk to me. For a while I thought things was better, but then it suddenly became worse after a dinner in my parents home when the family was gathered. I don't have any clue about why and then they said through my father and mother that they don't want to talk with me. If I had been held hostage by a gerilja in a jungle for ten years and suddenly was released to come home after ten years, everyone would be happy on my behalf. This is how it feels to have got treatment for my ocd, which wad undiagnosed for 28 years. I have a new life already, just 2 and a half years in to treatment. But I lost my children. It feels so painful that I can't feel it. And I wish they could know the truth about my story.