Hi everyone, this is a very long post, but I want to share my story in hopes of helping others see that they are not alone, and that what they are going through isn’t something that they need to bare alone. Feel free to read if you want-things will get better! 💜
I first encountered my OCD flaring up when I was in middle school around the age of twelve or thirteen. During this time, my primary obsession was the fear that I could or would possibly commit suicide. At the time, I had no clue what was happening and didn’t know anything about OCD (other than believing it was defined as people needing to keep their spaces tidy). Reflecting now, it’s clear to me that this was the first time I had the unfortunate privilege of meeting my OCD monster.
I was constantly having intrusive images and thoughts anytime I would see knives—worrying that I would grab one and use it to harm myself. I would create scenarios in my head in in which I pictured myself jumping in front of a garbage truck, or drowning myself in the bathtub. While the logical side of me knew that these fears were irrational, I felt such shame and isolation in having them.
The theme subsided after about three months, and I was able to move on with my life without noticing any major flare ups of OCD. Now, this doesn’t mean I wasn’t experiencing OCD during this ‘peacetime’, but the themes were nowhere near as debilitating. For example, I’d have flare ups about random concerns such as obsessing that chest pains could be a sign of heart attack; worrying that I’d developed a brain tumor due to a dizzy spell; worrying that I’d get arrested for accidentally hitting something with my car; etc. While these situations brought on an immense amount of anxiety, these bouts usually dissipated within about a week—for this reason, I don’t consider these to be any of my main nor debilitating themes.
One summer day in my high school age—around fifteen—I was watching the local news and a story came on about a soccer coach who was arrested for grooming his players. The story highlighted how much everyone in the community was reeling from this revelation since the coach was such a beloved and respected member of the community. I remember the exact moment when I was flooded with an immense amount of dread and anxiety unlike anything I’d ever felt up until that point.
If this ‘upstanding’ community man was capable of something so terrible, what was to say I couldn’t be too? What if I’m just discovering this terrifying aspect of my identity all of a sudden? What would everyone who I know and love think about me?
These are just a few examples of the myriad of thoughts that bombarded my mind within just minutes of seeing that news story. The anxiety about this possibility elevated to such a level, that I felt more hopeless than I have ever felt about my future before. I remember leaving my parents a note on their bedside table confessing to them that I was afraid that I was a pedophile because there was no way I would have ever been able to face them in-person and say that. I waited in my room all morning until after they had read the note in hopes that would come talk to me and try to comfort me—which is exactly what they did.
While their reassurance made me feel a bit better for the next thirty minutes, eventually I felt that I needed more answers and began Googling. This was when I finally found out about OCD. I felt an immense sense of relief when I realized that this could be OCD, but the monster did not like that I had uncovered it’s nasty secret, and immediately tried to divert my attention by battering me with the though that I was the exception to the rule—that I didn’t actually have OCD. I wasn’t brave enough to start therapy because I was terrified that when I went to my first appointment and told them my thoughts, that they would confirm to me that there is something wrong and that it wasn’t OCD. For about 8 months, I continued ruminating on every little possibility, avoiding children, and feeling a complete loss of identity that I would never wish upon anyone. After finally mustering up the courage to start therapy, I found myself improving after about 2 months, and wasn’t bothered by such thoughts anymore….I was so relieved to be done with that phase of my life, not knowing that the monster would never leave.
At this point, I was loving every aspect of life—especially after coming out as gay to my parents during my freshman year of university. Life was beautiful and I felt free of any doubt or fear surrounding who I was. But when COVID hit, my OCD went into hyperdrive with contamination as my primary theme. The pandemic progressed, and these anxieties died down and it felt like life was going to move on.
One day later that summer, in August of 2022—about 4 years since ever really thinking about it—the pedophilia-themed OCD was back. I had opened up to a close friend about my experience in high school, and she was incredibly understanding and supportive; but something in my brain triggered from this conversation and the obsession was back. This time, I found a therapist right away, but not knowing that Exposure Response Prevention (ERP) was the proper treatment, I found a psychologist who specialized in psychodynamic therapy. After about 5 months of torture, I did reach recovery once again despite the lack of ERP.
Life was good again throughout the rest of university and post-graduation. However, this past May, things took a dive for the worst. After being prescribed what I had deemed a “scary antibiotic” for an infection from my wisdom teeth surgery, my OCD ramped up to the point where I was obsessing over the possibility of having side effects from this medication—even imagining that I had developed peripheral neuropathy from the pills. Less than 48 hours later, I saw a Tik Tok clip of the show To Catch a Predator. Seeing that clip was extremely triggering, and caused me to imagine myself as the person being caught. It was like a light switch was flipped in my brain as the health-related fears vanished simultaneously with the arrival of the pedophilia-themed obsessions.
At this time, I was also about a week into beginning treatment using Prozac. For me, the medication ended up resulting in negative side effects that drove up suicidal thoughts, which in tandem with the POCD made me lose all hope in going on. I found myself bargaining and playing mind games to try and solve this problem:
I couldn’t be attracted to children, could I? I’ve only ever been attracted to people my own age in the past. But what if something is changing in me now? Even if it is, I could just make sure that I never act on it. No, I can’t even bare the thought of identifying that way. But you didn’t want to be gay at first, what if this is like that? Phew, that guy is attractive. But what if he’s actually younger than he looks? Does that mean I’m attracted to minors? What if the traits I am attracted to in age-appropriate partners are only the traits that I perceive as looking younger?
The barrage of thoughts completely destroyed me. Fortunately, I was able to stop taking the Prozac and the suicidal thoughts diminished, but I was still so obsessed over the possibility that I could be a terrible monster. To make matters worse, my career is working with high school students while they are applying to colleges. I see hundreds of sixteen and seventeen year-old students every month. My OCD took this job that I loved, and turned it against me. It told me that I only liked the job because it got me closer to younger kids. It told me that I wasn’t attracted to people my own age. I felt lost and couldn’t tell what was real anymore.
After a month of intense suffering, I was able to begin taking control of the situation by finding an OCD specialist, this time beginning ERP right away. As a supplement to my therapy, I also began taking Anafranil, and after a few weeks, I reached a place of pretty solid ground. That was in late-July.
Since that time, I have considered myself to be in recovery and have been immensely enjoying my life. However, recovery now means something much different than what it meant when I first began my journey with OCD. Now, I understand that I will probably never be free of intrusive thoughts—no one is—but they do not define who I am as a person, and I am able to enjoy life alongside them. While in my past it always felt that I needed to put so much time and energy into solving the things that worry me, what I have now come to realize is that overthinking never really solved anything. Instead, it took control of my life and made me see negativity anywhere I looked in life.
This brings us to today. My experiences with OCD—particularly in the past six months—have inspired me to dedicate my time advocating for OCD understanding and helping others to see that they are not alone, especially because that’s how I know many of you feel. I hope to join the likes of the amazing leaders in the community such as Chrissie Hodges, Nathan Peterson, Stuart Ralph, and so many others who contribute such meaningful work to this community. This entry is just the beginning of my work, and I hope it provides some hope and understanding for others. In the future, I plan to elaborate more on my experiences and share more about living life with OCD.
Through all of these experiences, I have come to realize that life goes on. It’s possible to live a fulfilling life while OCD takes the backseat.
