Today was one of those days where OCD decided to throw a curveballācompletely unplanned and uninvited. It wasnāt one of those moments where Iād geared up for exposure practice or had a strategy ready. Instead, it hit out of nowhere.
This morning, I noticed a massive 4-foot scratch on my car when I got to work. It was glaring, impossible to miss, and my mind immediately spiraled into overdrive. This was after intentionally avoiding any distractions during my commute (no videos, no crutches). For about two hours, I had no idea how or when the scratch happened, and it felt awful. My brain latched onto the uncertainty, feeding me all the āwhat ifsā and āshould havesā it could muster.
And as if the scratch itself wasnāt enough, there was the bigger, familiar fear lurking in the background: the fear of being a disappointment. The thought that I might have harmed someone or caused damageāor that I would be a disappointment to those I valued the mostāloomed large. It wasnāt just about the car. It was about the story my OCD loves to tell me: What if this makes me bad? What if Iām careless? What if Iāve let everyone down?
In that moment, I had to make a choice. I couldnāt undo the scratch or magically find an answer to what caused it, but I could decide how I responded. I kept telling myself: This is uncomfortable, but I can handle it. Something happened, or maybe it didnāt, but either way, I have to sit with this feeling.
Later, my husband figured it out. The scratch happened when he was squeezing by my car to bring the trash bins in. Even after learning the cause, though, the anxiety didnāt disappear. If anything, it hung around, whispering that I still needed to fix something or do something to make it āright.ā
Whatās wild is that Iād been having a great couple of days before this. I felt like I was making progressāfewer compulsions, less spiralingāand then this situation hit, and I felt like Iād been thrown a million miles backwards. Thatās the thing about OCD: progress isnāt linear.
And then thereās the added layer of fear: this nagging worry that Iāll never stop letting people down, that even little mistakes or accidents somehow make me a failure in someone elseās eyes. That weight can feel unbearable sometimes.
As the day went on, though, I noticed a shift. It wasnāt dramatic, but the anxiety started to lose its edge. Iām proud of myself for not falling back into old habitsāno reassurance-seeking, no obsessing over the car, no chasing answers to make the anxiety disappear.
But I wonāt sugarcoat it. Itās still hard. Iām nervous about getting back in the car later. Will I feel paralyzed, stuck in the moment when I first saw the scratch? Or will I be able to move on like itās just another part of the day?
Right now, I donāt know, but hereās what I do know: I didnāt give up today. I faced a 9/10 anxiety moment, and even though it wasnāt graceful or ideal, I kept going. It didnāt feel good, and it wasnāt perfect, but Iām still here, still trying, still moving forward.