You ever have a thought that stops you in your tracks? A thought so disturbing, so out of nowhere, that it makes you question everything about yourself? Thatâs how it started for me. A week after my grandfather passed away, I was lying in bed, thinking about him, when suddenly a thought hit me: What if Iâm not a good person? What if I never get to see him again? My chest tightened, and my stomach dropped. More thoughts followed. What if I donât go to heaven? What if he can see everything Iâve ever done? My entire body filled with fear, and I felt like I couldnât breathe. I didnât know it then, but I was having my first panic attack. Desperate for relief, I grabbed my phone and played random YouTube videos until I passed out from exhaustion. From that night on, I became terrified of being alone with my thoughts. I had no idea why this was happening to me, but I knew one thingâbedtime would never feel the same again.
For a while, I found ways to avoid the thoughts, but then a new one hit me like a truck. I was scrolling through the news when I saw an article about a father who had hurt his kids. My first thought was, Thatâs horrible. But then, my brain twisted it into something that made my blood run cold: What if I could do something like that? My stomach dropped. Why did I just think that? What does that mean about me? Am I dangerous? I tried to push it away, but the fear only grew. Being alone with my daughter became unbearable. I still took care of her, but I no longer trusted myself. I made up excuses so I wouldnât have to be alone with her, and when my husband went to work, I spent the day in silent panic. My usual phone calls to my parents, once full of joy, became desperate cries for reassurance, though I couldnât bring myself to tell them why.
Eventually, I told my husband I was struggling with anxiety. He didnât fully understand but suggested I work out to clear my mind. I remember getting on the treadmill and breaking down in tears, unable to run, unable to escape my thoughts. That night, I called my godfather, terrified of what he would say. But instead of judging me, he told me I needed to tell my husband everything. With all the courage I had, I did just that. My husband was confused but supportive, and soon after, I flew home to Illinois to be with my family. For the first time in weeks, I slept. But the relief didnât last long. When my mom mentioned going back to work, I panicked. Thatâs when I finally told her everything. Wanting to help, she told me to pray, so I didâover and over. But instead of bringing peace, prayer became another compulsion, something I had to do to "fix" my thoughts. I was still drowning, desperate for answers, so I did what anyone would doâI Googled. Why am I having these thoughts? The results were unsettling. I kept reading, more and more terrified, thinking I might be going crazy. But then, I saw something that gave me a sense of relief: This sounds like OCD. I stared at the screen. That couldnât be right. My brother has OCD, and his is about germsâthis wasnât the same. But the more I read, the more it started to click.
Thatâs when I found NOCD. I made an appointment for the next day, and when I met my therapist, she told me she couldnât officially diagnose me yet because we hadnât finished all the assessments, but she was confident that I had OCD. At first, I didnât believe her. OCD isnât just about handwashing or being neatâitâs about intrusive thoughts that feel so real they shake you to your core. Therapy was terrifying at first. I had to sit with my worst fears instead of running from them. But the more I faced them, the weaker they became. After 11 weeks, I finally felt like myself again. One day, my entire family had to go back to work, leaving me alone with my daughter for the first time in months. The thoughts came: What if you hurt her while no oneâs here? But instead of panicking, I used the non-engagement responses Iâd learned in therapy. I would respond to the thought with something like, Maybe I could. Maybe I couldnât. And then I would move on with my day. That was the moment I knew I was getting better.
Looking back, I realized I had been experiencing OCD my entire life. As a child, I constantly worried about my parents dying, about being left alone. I used to wonder, What happens when people leave? Do they still exist if I canât see them?These fears werenât newâthey were just amplified by my postpartum OCD. Iâm proud to say that Iâve been in remission for over a year now. While OCD sometimes resurfaces with different themes, it doesnât control my life. It doesnât stop me from living fully, from enjoying my time with my daughter, or from embracing the things I love. The road to recovery hasnât been easy, but Iâve learned that it is possible to take back your life, even when OCD tries to tell you otherwise. âĽď¸
