Chapter 1: Living with OCD

To provide some background, I struggle with severe OCD. This condition is often trivialized by those who appreciate cleanliness and order but do not endure the emotional turmoil that comes with it. For individuals with OCD, the fear of catastrophe looms large if they do not comply with their compulsions. For instance, in my childhood, I believed that if I didn't touch every object a certain number of times, something awful would happen to my parents. This is just one example. The act of ruminating on distressing thoughts is also a compulsion, and as an adult, this is a significant challenge for me.

When I first met my boyfriend, we were colleagues and had developed a strong friendship. This connection made for an effortless first date, leading us to an exclusive relationship. Everything felt perfect—perhaps too perfect. My OCD seemed to respond by bombarding me with intrusive sexual thoughts that I worried would upset him, along with a constant fear that he would abandon me over past actions or thoughts. Essentially, I felt he was far too good for me—a sentiment fueled by my OCD.

At that time, I didn't realize that what I was experiencing was OCD; I thought my childhood compulsions were the only symptoms. The weight of these thoughts became unbearable. I began sharing minor confessions with my boyfriend. He was incredibly compassionate and understanding. However, as anyone with OCD can attest, seeking reassurance can spiral into a cycle of increased obsession. After one particularly challenging day at work, I found myself in a coffee shop, desperately searching online to see if others shared similar experiences. I hadn’t felt this way since my late teens, and it was then that I stumbled upon articles that confirmed I was dealing with classic OCD.

Leaving the coffee shop in tears, I confided in my boyfriend. This moment coincided with some of my most troubling intrusive thoughts—thoughts that might confuse anyone unfamiliar with OCD. To be candid, it took him about an hour to fully grasp the implications of what I was sharing: that OCD was the source of my distressing thoughts. The nature of OCD is such that it thrives on anxiety; the more we dwell on our fears, the more it intensifies.

His initial confusion heightened my anxiety, but then, like flipping a switch, he began to understand. He recognized that my distress was genuine and did not reflect who I truly am; he even took the initiative to research more about it. I’m not suggesting that everyone should disclose their taboo or OCD-related thoughts, but for me, this openness strengthened my relationship. My boyfriend eventually became my husband, and we share an extraordinarily close bond because we have created a safe environment where we can express our truest selves without fear of judgment. Few people get to experience this level of intimacy.

If you find yourself relating to this, you might also be grappling with OCD without realizing it. Ultimately, what I feared would jeopardize my relationship only deepened our connection. Living with OCD can be daunting, but it’s comforting to know I’m not alone.

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