5 Lies My OCD Keeps Trying to Sell Me (No Matter How Hard I Try to Ignore Them)

I can’t remember a single time in my life when I wasn’t plagued by OCD. While I was diagnosed at age 6, my symptoms began years earlier. In my experience at the time, doctors and psychologists did not have much understanding of this disorder. In fact, I was almost misdiagnosed with schizophrenia due to the nature of my intrusive thoughts.

One of my worst fears was hurting the people in my life. We now understand this common form of OCD as “Harm OCD”, but back then there wasn’t as much research into the disorder. So my doctor took my childhood explanation for my intrusive thoughts at face value. She thought I was hearing voices that convinced me to do things without her realizing that I was terrified by these thoughts. I didn’t want to act on them. I didn’t feel forced to. In fact, I actively performed “rituals” and compulsions to make sure I wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Needless to say, it took a few psychologists to finally get the right diagnosis. Now, over two decades later, I myself have a much better understanding of OCD. But it’s such an insidious, manipulative disorder that I still often find myself believing the lies it spews.

Here are some of the common, disturbing lies my OCD has told me.

1. ‘You want bad things to happen’

On my closing day, I received some of the worst news of my life: someone very close to me was in the hospital with end-stage renal failure. In just a single moment, my life turned upside down. I was completely devastated and scared of losing him as we didn’t know the reason yet. I spent my graduation ceremony crying and rushed to his side the moment it was over.

But as it does when you’re at your lowest, my OCD seized this opportunity and suggested a horrible, selfish thought: “You want this to happen.”

All I could think about on the drive to the hospital was what a terrible person I was. I began to “check” my body for sensations of tension and asked myself if I was enjoying this. Every time someone offered me sympathy, my brain said I loved the attention I was getting, even at the expense of my loved one. And because I was so numb from the news and in a state of shock, unable to cry or fully process the situation, I began to believe that I really wanted this bad thing to happen.

This is just one example of the many times my OCD has done this to me. It rears its ugly head every time there is a health scare or even a death in my family or close circle. It even convinced me that I was using my own autoimmune condition for sympathy and that I wanted to be sick, despite how much I was suffering.

2. ‘You are physically/emotionally abusive’

Dating with OCD is its own demon. When I’m in a relationship, my love life often becomes the center of my world. I obsess relentlessly about whether I’m a good partner. Am I supportive enough? Am I too needy? Do I have the right to express my feelings?

But the worst obsession of all is: “Am I violent?”

Setting a simple boundary often triggers my OCD as my brain then tells me that I am a controlling, emotionally abusive and harmful partner. Once I even convinced myself that I was physically abusing my partner because I playfully pushed his arm. I spent days asking him if I hurt him, truly convinced that I was dangerous and that we had to break up to protect him. It may sound silly and my partner and I can laugh about it now, but in the moment the fear was felt genuine and urgent.

This is why it is so important to choose the right partner who wants to understand and support you, not someone who will use your mental illness against you. If I was with a partner who wanted to manipulate or control me, they could easily confirm my thoughts/fears and convince me that I was in fact an abusive partner who deserved to be hurt in return.

3. ‘You’re secretly a horrible person with bad intentions’

My default emotion is shame, and my default response to any kind of conflict is self-blame. Regardless of the context, I can always find fault with myself. If I don’t handle a situation with total empathy and grace, then I must be the problem.

No person in this world is perfect; we’ve all made mistakes, had messy, human moments, and been the villain in someone else’s story. But most people know who they are at their core. They know they are a good person with good values, morals and intentions. They can lean on their self-esteem when going through a tough time.

But a person with OCD will obsess over their transgressions and mistakes until they are all they can see. When you operate from this lens, you begin to truly believe in yourself is a bad person. I mean, it’s hard to feel good when your brain is convincing you that you’re violent and want bad things to happen. So you start to feel irresponsible for not beating yourself up and thinking you have to fix yourself right now, so you don’t cause more harm in this world.

4. ‘You’re a cheater’

As I mentioned earlier, dating with OCD is incredibly challenging. In my case, I think it’s because when you’re in a relationship, you feel responsible for someone else’s happiness. With OCD, you already feel responsible for those around you. Add a romantic connection and commitment to the mix and it’s even heavier.

One of the lies my OCD tells me is that I am a cheater. Every time I have an interaction with someone of the opposite sex, I obsess over whether I was appropriate. Did I find them attractive? Did I give them a suggestive look? Was I flirting? Why didn’t I mention I had a partner? I need their attention and validation. That must mean I’m emotionally unfaithful.

Right?

5. ‘You need complete certainty Right now‘

My desire for certainty has sabotaged so many things in my life. Oddly enough, it actually pushed me further away from certainty because I rarely let things unfold naturally.

OCD thrive away from uncertainty.

“Are you sure this person is the one? You wouldn’t want to waste their time, would you?”

“Are you sure you’re not sick? You should take your temperature for the 10th time.”

“Are you sure this is the right career path? You don’t want to end up on your parents’ couch one day.

“Are you sure you want to eat at that restaurant? You might get food poisoning.”

“Are you sure you turned off the stove? You should turn the car around and check.”

I could go on and on about the countless OCD thoughts I have, all centered around uncertainty. My brain sometimes spews the above statement at me within just a few minutes. It’s incredibly exhausting.

But when you develop a tolerance for uncertainty—which takes time—you can take your power back from OCD.