My story with OCD: living with intrusive thoughts
Lining up my teddies before primary school was one of my earliest symptoms of OCD. At the time, it was adorable, but it evolved into all of the stereotypical symptoms—handwashing and organizing. Objectively, not-so-bad. On the inside, mildly crippling. But last year, I began having intrusive thoughts—an obsession that wasn’t so ‘cute’.
4 out of 5 people experience intrusive thoughts, including thoughts about harming loved ones. For 1 in 50, they become difficult to ignore. Last year, I woke up as one of those people. I did nothing differently that day from what I typically do. But when I made breakfast, my knife scared me. As I walked to school, I worried about children on the sidewalk, ruminating over how they could get hurt. Obsessed with turning off my thoughts, they only got bigger—scared they would one day become my reality.
I didn’t tell anyone until my Wednesday appointment with my therapist later that week. “Please give me homework,” I said. “I need results”.
I wanted a quick change, unaware that seven days of CBT exercises wouldn’t stop my OCD. I regretted every decision I’d made up until that point.
What if I had used the Headspace subscription I downloaded… only to delete it?
What if I never went off birth control?
What if I had listened to my therapist as a kid and sat through the discomfort of not washing my hands? Then, this may never would have happened.
“Challenge each negative thought and look for empathy around you. Every time you have an intrusive thought about someone, say something positive about them,” she added, pumping her fist in the air, comparing thought patterns to building muscle. “The more we practice it the easier it becomes.”
’She’s gaslighting me,’ I thought. “That sounds great,” I answered, smiling.
“You’re holding onto these thoughts because your body knows they’re bad—proving that you’re a good person,” she said. “They’re signalling danger. Thank your body for reminding you”.
She was so calm. I didn’t believe her, wondering if she felt obligated to say it. I had been sobbing for thirty minutes—what else could she do? But this is OCD: a negative thought process my body thinks is safe. Objectively ridiculous worries that, on the inside, feel legitimate.
I practised my ‘homework.’ The intrusive thoughts didn’t stop. It was the lowest point in my life. What used to feel safe now felt scary. I isolated myself, worried my plans would be tainted by my brain. Romanticizing my future turned into catastrophizing. Walks were too quiet, amplifying the noise in my head.
I ignored FaceTime calls from my sister, knowing my one-year-old nephew and three-year-old niece were waiting on the other end. I refused to have intrusive thoughts about them—which made them louder.
I used to travel to escape challenges. But I couldn’t run away from my brain. I stopped sleeping and scrolled relentlessly on Instagram instead. On my walk to school, I deleted my endless searches in Safari:
How to get rid of intrusive thoughts
Will intrusive thoughts go away?
Meds for OCD
Do SRI’s help with intrusive thoughts
…
It all changed one night as I binge-watched reels on my newly followed OCD Instagram accounts. Reading the comments made me feel less alone—clicking on the profiles to see if they looked sane. One video had over 20,000 likes—one of which was from my best friend from freshman year of high school. Stella Jones:
beautiful, smart, and made everyone smile—everything but crazy. I glanced at her profile: a grad student at the University of Michigan, laughing with her sheepdog and engaged to the guy she had a crush on back when we were friends. She followed OCD accounts too—and she looked so happy. I no longer felt alone. That night, I slept like a baby.
A few months later, I reconnected with Stella. I still remember the first time she told me about her intrusive thoughts. We now talk every day. Since then, I’ve opened up about my struggles with friends and family. Each time, the thoughts get quieter. Half of the time, I find out they’ve experienced the same thing. My intrusive thoughts no longer scare me. I sleep great, I’m present, and I cherish quiet walks in nature. On the days they’re louder—I call Stella, and we laugh about them together. But mostly, we enjoy life without them.
Words by Britta Carlson
