How My OCD Support Group Has Helped Heal Me
I was diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) in September of 2024, despite dealing with it my whole life. When I received my diagnosis, I filled my time with research, therapy, and support.
It’s not lost on me that this need for answers and assurance-seeking is precisely a symptom of OCD. But when you expose yourself to things that cause distress, they get louder, and my OCD was undoubtedly going a little crazy.
My childhood and early adulthood years flashed before my eyes.
The times when I had to “start over” playing dolls because I made a “mistake” in my speaking.
The time when I went to see Love, Simon with my mom and spent the entire movie having intrusive thoughts about an active shooter coming into the theater.
The times when I would ruminate about my sexuality because I played volleyball and would look at other girls’ butts in spandex.
The time when I first sought therapy because I was having vivid nightmares about terrible things happening.
The times when I would force my ex to clean our apartment a certain way, every week.
It finally all clicked. My brain had been stuck in OCD cycles for so many years. And finally, at the age of 25, I was diagnosed verbally for the first time.
This isn’t to say that I haven’t been quietly diagnosed by other therapists in the past. I have been, and I can even remember doing exposure therapy in 2020. My therapists and I were treating my OCD—I just didn’t know it at the time.
Contrary to popular belief, OCD is not just a personality quirk that involves liking things a certain way.
According to the Mayo Clinic, “Obsessive Compulsive Disorder features a pattern of unwanted thoughts and fears known as obsessions. These obsessions lead you to do repetitive behaviors, also called compulsions. These obsessions and compulsions get in the way of daily activities and cause a lot of distress.”
For me, OCD manifests itself in my life as a layer of rigidity, obsessive thinking, and intrusive thoughts. It makes it really hard for me to let go of control and quiet my mind.
Once I got over the anger that no therapist I’d worked with had ever verbally diagnosed me and I read a couple books about living with OCD, I felt ready to tackle this mental health issue.
But I’ve learned there’s no such thing as “tackling” OCD. It’s a part of who I am, and who I will always be. Nothing has taught me this better than my OCD support group.
We meet once a month at a therapists’ office in Erie. The first time I attended (probably November 2024), I didn’t know what to expect. I had never been to a support group before and my OCD was telling me that I didn’t have it bad enough to be a part of this group.
There were men and women of all ages—from 15 to 70 years old. There were stories similar to mine, and there were people who had been coming to the group for 15+ years. It was truly eye opening.
While I appreciated the experience at first, it felt like some of the people saw OCD differently than I did. I can remember one guy telling a college-aged student that her OCD is a devil and it has no bearing on her straight A’s.
I disagreed, and the thought of viewing my OCD as a devil just didn’t feel aligned for me. So, I skipped a few months.
But, after a bout of some serious OCD symptoms, I decided to give the group another try. And I’m so glad I did. This time, I felt incredibly validated, supported, and less alone (I think it helped that “OCD is the devil” guy wasn’t there #sorrynotsorry).
I religiously go every month now.
I’ve made friends with the attendees and we’ve come to understand the inner workings of each other’s brains. I know that one man has a fear of hospitals. I know that one woman gets stuck on repeating certain words. And they all know that my perfectionist tendencies get in the way of my enjoying life.
I can relate to one woman’s obsession with double-checking…triple-checking…quadrouple-checking her finances.
I resonate with one man’s anxiety about his car breaking down. I can relate to another woman’s rumination about a new crush.
For the first time in my brain, I’m not alone. And what a beautiful gift that is.
My OCD support group has healed me in ways therapy and medication can’t. It has given me a community to lean on that truly understands how I feel.
The people who attend the group are friends who care about what I share. And I care about what they share too.
I’ll never forget the time one of my favorite guys who attends shared about his intrusive thought of falling over and dying. I have that thought often, and I always thought I was alone in that.
I couldn’t help but shed a few tears listening to him vent. I felt so much compassion for him because I know firsthand how scary that thought (and visualization) is. And then, because I felt empathy and care for him and his brain, I began to feel empathy and care for myself and my brain.
Living with OCD is challenging. You never really know what your brain is going to get stuck on because it changes so frequently.
My medication does what it can to stabilize my brain, and my therapist does what she can to redirect my thoughts back to value-aligned ones.
My support group gives me something extra—compassion for others and compassion for myself. No, my OCD is never going away. But I feel so much comfort in knowing that I have a group of people who can hold space for me as I navigate it.
Support groups are a powerful tool for anyone navigating the human experience and I truly believe they have the power to heal those parts of ourselves that feel isolated.
We are never really alone. Thank you to my OCD support group for showing me just how true this is ♡
