I’ve suffered from OCD since the age of 8, but I wasn’t diagnosed until November of 2017. It morphed throughout the years, starting with perfectionism around my appearance (for example, redoing my makeup so many times that I made my skin bleed) and then shifting into needing things spotless in my house (cleaning the same table for hours, trying to remove streaks from glass cleaner while crying and being unable to stop).

In 2017 it changed again, this time into intrusive thoughts. It started with one harmless thought that popped into my head: “What if I liked girls?” Keep in mind, I had been boy-crazy all my life and had never liked girls, so this thought felt especially alarming. That’s when the downward spiral began.

I spent hours a day trying to figure it out. Google became my worst enemy. My compulsions took up 15 to 20 hours of my day. I couldn’t sleep and I couldn’t eat. The thought kept looping, every minute of every day. It followed me everywhere. I couldn’t enjoy anything, and I didn’t understand why I couldn’t get a definitive answer. I started having severe panic and anxiety attacks. I would shake and vomit all day. I couldn’t eat, sleep, or function. My dog became neglected. My children watched me suffer.

The themes began jumping all over the place and the most horrific thoughts were entering my mind. I finally decided to go to the emergency room, where I was diagnosed with OCD. The relief from the diagnosis didn’t last long because OCD made me question whether I really had it.

From there, I was prescribed three anti-anxiety medications, a sleep aid, and CBT therapy. The meds took the edge off, but I was still suffering. I knew I needed more. So I started learning everything I could about the disorder, and around that time Rob from OCD Recovery reached out and offered me group calls. I cannot express how much this saved me. My family was loving and supportive, but having a group of people who truly understood my struggles was life-saving.

I began sessions with Rob. It was hard at first. I had my trials and slip-ups, but I didn’t give up. I pushed myself to think more rationally and to see that things are never as scary as they feel, and that we can handle anything life throws at us.

It took me about a year to get a grasp on recovery. I still have hiccups here and there, but I know I can handle them. The thoughts or a relapse don’t scare me anymore because I’ve retrained my brain to be more sensible.

I’m happy to say that I’ve been off all my meds for months now, and I rely only on the behavioral work. This is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. Thank you, Rob, for helping save my life.