NOCD has helped me so much. I have made more progress in the several months I’ve been using NOCD than I have since I was 8 and developed OCD. Kathy, my therapist, is like a miracle worker! A true angel in my life who has helped me to see that OCD doesn’t rule me. OCD will always be a part of me but it is now like a whisper in the back of my head and my own, meaningful thoughts can take center stage.

I get asked about the name NOCD a lot. People might want to know how it’s pronounced, and they’re curious about our story. Every time, I’m excited to share a bit about what the name means—in fact, it’s an opportunity for me to talk about something everyone should know about OCD. First things first: it’s pronounced “No-CD.” And it actually means a couple things, both central to our mission: To restore hope for people with OCD through better awareness and treatment. The first meaning of our name is about awareness: Know OCD. Though we’ve come a long way, not enough people truly know what OCD is or what it’s like. How many times have you heard someone say “Don’t be so OCD about that,” or “I wish I had a little OCD. My car is a mess!” Things like that may seem innocent, but they trivialize the condition and keep most people with OCD—around 8 million in the US alone—from getting the help they need. The second meaning of NOCD is about treatment: No-CD. To go a bit deeper: Say “No” to the compulsive disorder. On one level, this is also related to knowing OCD—noto means “to know” in Latin. This inspired the name NOTO, the operations and technology infrastructure that powers NOCD the way an engine powers a vehicle. But this meaning goes even further. It has to do with how you can manage OCD symptoms—learning to resist compulsions. This is the foundation of exposure and response prevention (ERP) therapy, the most effective, evidence-based form of treatment for OCD. Learning how to resist compulsions with ERP changed my life, and it taught me how important it is to get treatment from a specialty-trained therapist who truly understands how OCD works. I’ll give you an example. When I was 20, my life was going according to plan. I was thriving on the field as a college quarterback, doing well in school, even winning awards—until OCD struck out of nowhere. I started having taboo intrusive thoughts, things that horrified me and went against my core values and beliefs. Desperate for help, I saw several different therapists—but no one diagnosed me with OCD. At one point, I was instructed to snap a rubber band against my wrist whenever I had an intrusive thought. It was supposed to stop the thoughts, but it only made my symptoms worse. Driven into severe depression, I had to put my entire life on pause. Once I started ERP with a therapist who understood OCD, I learned why: you can’t stop intrusive thoughts from occurring. Everyone has them—and the more you try to get rid of them, the worse they get. Anything you do to suppress them is actually a compulsion, whether it’s counting in your head, snapping a rubber band against your wrist, or using substances to drown the thoughts out. To get better, you have to learn to resist compulsions and accept uncertainty. OCD doesn’t get to decide how you live your life. How do you educate the people in your life about OCD? Whether friends, family, or strangers, I’d love to hear how you share your understanding and raise awareness about OCD.

December 14, 2024, marked two years since my first ERP therapy session with my NOCD therapist, Mixi. And October 2024 marked a year of being free from OCD. It was not an easy journey, confronting my fears face to face. Exposing myself to the images and thoughts my brain kept throwing at me, accepting that I might be the worst mother, that my daughter wouldn’t love me, and that I deserved to be considered a bad person. It was challenging having to say, “Yes, I am those things,” feeling the desire to run, but realizing the thoughts followed me. At the start of my therapy, I remember feeling like I couldn’t do this anymore. Life felt unbearable, and I felt so weak. I longed for a time before the OCD, before the flare-ups, before the anxiety, the daily panic attacks. I thought I’d never be myself again. But I now know that ERP saved my life. The first couple of sessions were tough. I wasn’t fully present. I lied to my therapist about what my actual thoughts were, fearing judgment. I pretended that the exposures were working, but when the sessions ended, I went back to not sleeping, constantly overwhelmed by fear and anxiety. But my therapist never judged me. She made me feel safe to be honest with her. She understood OCD and never faltered in supporting me, even when I admitted I had been lying and still continued my compulsions. My biggest milestone in therapy was being 100% transparent with my therapist. That was when real change began. At first, I started small—simply reading the words that terrified me: "bad mom," "hated," "unloved." Then, I worked on listening to those words while doing dishes—not completely stopping my rumination, but noticing it. Just 15 minutes, my therapist said. It wasn’t easy. At one point, I found myself thinking, “Will I ever feel like myself again?” But I kept pushing through. Slowly, I built tolerance and moved to face-to-face exposures—sitting alone with my daughter, leaning into the thought that my siblings might die, reading articles about my worst fears, and calling myself the things I feared. Each session was challenging, but with time, the thoughts started to lose their grip. By my eleventh session, I started to realize: OCD was here, and it wasn’t going away, but I could keep living my life despite it. I didn’t need to wait for it to be quiet or go away to move on. Slowly, it began to quiet down, and I started to feel like myself again. In fact, I am not my old self anymore—I’m a better version. OCD hasn’t completely disappeared, but it’s quieter now. Most of the time, it doesn’t speak, and when it does, I know how to handle it. The last session with my therapist was emotional. I cried because I was finishing therapy. I remember how, in the beginning, I cried because I thought it was just starting—because I was overwhelmed and terrified. But at the end, I cried because I was sad it was ending. It felt like I had come so far, and part of me wasn’t ready to say goodbye, even though I had already learned so much. It was a bittersweet moment, but I knew I was walking away stronger, equipped with the tools to handle OCD on my own. If I could change anything about my journey, it would be being open and honest from the beginning. It was the key to finding true healing. The transparency, the honesty—it opened the door to lasting change. I’m no longer that person who was stuck in constant panic. I’m someone who has fought and survived, and while OCD still appears from time to time, I know it doesn’t define me. I'd love to hear your thoughts and comments. Have you started therapy, is something holding you back? Is there something you want to know about ERP therapy? I'll be live in the app answering each and every one today from 6-7pm EST. Please drop them below!

i am starting NOCD therapy on monday and was just curious on others’ experiences! what happens in your sessions, generally speaking? how do you feel during and after? i’m excited but also nervous to start. i’ve been in talk therapy for years with minimal improvement with my ocd, so im hopeful to start feeling better.