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.

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.

Ever since starting ERP, my SO-OCD and general OCD has lowered. This has been great. I just wanted to have somewhere to share my thoughts and ask questions. For anyone else, have you realized that the SO-OCD and other forms of OCD are all rooted in what people have said in the past that I hadn’t processed, and up to this point believed hadn’t affected me. It was also odd because to me, I had never had a problem questioning my sexuality, even labeling myself as queer. However, this fear plagued my thoughts whether or not I decided to identity as straight, lesbian, bisexual, etc. It was so weird to me because it felt so foreign to how I’ve always been. I hated the guilt I felt over possibly being in denial or in the closet, over being homophobic, and all of that would just lead to constant stress and spiral. I felt so bad dating or being with my friends, on the off chance I was using them or going to cross lines. Progress isn’t linear, but I definetly feel so much better shedding the random fear I had of expressing affection towards my friends or of “using guys” to prove I was straight. Most of the time, I find that the stress comes from something really real. Like my past experiences with an old friend that I had or just not liking the guy I was dating and not wanting to lead him on. Being able to discern the OCD thoughts and stress from regular stress has been like a breath of fresh air.

I see a lot of posts about this subtype and first want to say, it SUCKS. I've circled through a few subtypes and nothing deterred my life and ruined every day as much as R-OCD, so my heart goes out to anyone working through theirs. I hope you fight through ERP for your chance to heal <3 It's hard, but you're worth it! Beyond that, I want to share something that I feel often goes unstated but made a huge difference in my own recovery. Real quick, my story is: I was at 10 years in my relationship, 1.5 years engaged, 1 year away from a wedding, waking up feeling nauseous and disgusted every morning at the sight of my partner. I felt convinced that I faked the past 10 years of love and affection and that I wasted over a decade of my life and would never be happy whether I stayed or left, at this point. ^ That was before NOCD. This year, I’m 3 years past my last therapy session, 3 years married, and enjoy my husband and 1 year old son each and every day. The thing that really flipped a switch for me was when I expressed to my therapist that I felt one of my “intrusive thoughts” was valid enough to have a discussion with my partner about, and he responded, "It’s up to you if you think it’s worth discussing with your partner, but the important thing is that it's YOUR choice to discuss it, not OCD's." This changed how I viewed every criticizing thought about my partner. It actually helped me let more thoughts go because I realized I didn’t really care about his morning hair, his t-shirt collection, or his breathing pattern. And on the flip side, it helped me acknowledge when a thought was something I did care about and wanted to address in my relationship—of course, this involved taming my anxiety surrounding such matters, being open to my partner’s response, willing to trust his answer, and not bringing something up a million times. At that point, being together for 10 years had scarred us from rough patches aside from OCD, baggage we’d built up together, and lots of intertwined parts of our lives and selves that weren’t always intertwined in the best ways (i.e. losing yourself to your partner’s hobbies and things like that). What I’m saying is we had things to actually work on in our relationship. But OCD had been blurring the lines for so long between what actually mattered and what was just a fear. It was like OCD tried to distract me with miniscule annoyances (“why does his cheek twitch like that?”) and potential problems (“what if we get a divorce in another 10 years and then I wasted 20 years?”) as a way to protect me from facing the real, often more manageable problems in front of me. For example, I couldn’t control the way my partner breathed, but I COULD discuss how I wanted to start setting aside time to get back into my own hobbies. I couldn’t force my partner to be more outgoing, but I COULD express that it was important to me that we see friends more and ask if he was willing to help us work toward that goal. In giving myself the power to identify what truly mattered to me in the relationship and in my life, I was able to address such things (in a healthy, non-reassurance seeking way) and work toward a life free of OCD, plus full of things that mattered to me. So, for all those still working on R-OCD, remember that OCD thrives on unrealistic relationship ideals and over-the-top expectations. Despite what it wants you to believe, NO RELATIONSHIP IS PERFECT, so don’t fight for that. But also don’t forget that you can care about your relationship. You can want to improve it and build a better one, just make sure the improvements you’re seeking are 1) realistic and 2) things that really matter to YOU. Sure, a big part of this work is learning to not act on intrusive thoughts, but another aspect (at least for me) was gaining back self-awareness. Who am I apart from OCD? I, myself, am a human being with often big feelings who cares immensely about the people I love. I like to be thoughtful and intentional with my words and actions. I like to create and converse and dance and sew. And none of that is OCD, it’s just me. I am a whole person, and yes, with that comes fears and worries, and yes, sometimes, because I have OCD, those fears and worries get the better of me. But that does not define me. I am NOT my OCD, and neither are you.