Hey everyone. I’m a recovering alcoholic/addict with almost six years of sobriety, and I was diagnosed with OCD last September. I am hoping to find someone else who has dealt with both OCD and addiction simultenously.
Honestly, I’ve felt like something was “wrong” with my brain for most of my life. Maybe those were the earliest signs and symptoms of OCD. I just never felt quite right or always needed to feel a certain way about things. Even as I’m typing this, I’m thinking, “Did I really feel like this, or do I just know all the OCD buzzwords now?” I am constantly doubting myself.
I’m hoping someone out there has experience with both the 12 Steps (AA or NA) and a diagnosis of OCD.
Anyway, I started drinking and using drugs very early in life. I joined the military at 19 to try to straighten my life out. I drank heavily for years until I finally admitted I couldn’t control my drinking. It took me three years and two rehabs to find sobriety.
I found sobriety through the 12 Steps of AA and believing that a Higher Power could remove my obsession to drink. Ironically, this was the only thing that worked. For several years I lived a very happy, joyous, and carefree life. My anxiety and depression were gone, and I tried to live by the principles that AA taught me.
Looking back now, I think OCD had always been present, just in smaller ways. I constantly overthought and overanalyzed everything. My mind never seemed to slow down. I honestly think that’s one of the reasons I started using drugs and alcohol so early in my teenage years.
Three years ago, I met an amazing woman. I had recently gone through a divorce and had dated on and off for a few years. In every relationship, I’d eventually reach a point where I started worrying:
“Do I really like this woman?”
“What if she gets pregnant?”
“Am I actually attracted to her, or do I just want sex?”
Those questions would eventually become so overwhelming that I would end the relationship. The anxiety would disappear, so in my mind the solution was simple: end the relationship, end the anxiety.
Then I met my current girlfriend.
I remember falling for her very quickly. Around the three- or four-week mark—when those thoughts would normally appear—I found myself waiting for them. They never came. I was convinced she was “the one.”
As the relationship progressed, she started doing little things that annoyed me, just like in any normal relationship. Then I started questioning everything.
It began with her appearance. I started looking at her as if I were viewing her under a microscope. I constantly analyzed her looks, how she dressed, how she talked, how she walked—everything. It drove me crazy. I had no idea what was happening to me, and I couldn’t figure out how to explain it without hurting her feelings.
I did my best to explain what I was experiencing, and we broke up on and off for about six months.
The crazy part was that I knew I loved her. She was everything I wanted emotionally. She was patient, mature, supportive, and brought so much to the relationship. Yet I became completely fixated on physical attraction, and I still carry guilt about that today.
Eventually, I told her I was done running. I promised I would stop breaking up with her and actually give the relationship a real chance. We’re still together today, and I still struggle with these thoughts daily.
During all of this, I made a major career change in the military and entered cybersecurity. The nine-month course was make-or-break for my career, and I put enormous pressure on myself. I overstudied, constantly ruminated about failing, and my anxiety was through the roof.
At this point I was dealing with both relationship anxiety and career pressure. I kept feeling like something inside me was going to snap.
Eight months later, I was driving to take my final exam.
Out of nowhere, the word “alcohol” entered my mind.
Not a craving.
Not a desire to drink.
Just the word.
Most recovering addicts and alcoholics know what it’s like to be obsessed with their substance of choice. During active addiction, I thought about alcohol every waking moment until I finally drank.
One of the greatest gifts of sobriety was realizing one day that I hadn’t thought about alcohol for hours. Then days. Then weeks. Eventually, the obsession was gone.
Of course, over the last six years I’ve thought about alcohol from time to time. But those thoughts never scared me.
This one did.
My brain immediately asked:
“Why am I thinking about alcohol?”
“Why is the thought still here?”
“Oh my God…my obsession has returned.”
I passed my exam, but I spent the next month absolutely miserable.
I became convinced my addiction had returned. Every night I was terrified I was going to relapse. I called my sponsor four times a day, went to meetings daily, took on new sponsees—you name it. I did everything I thought I was supposed to do, but the fear never left.
Looking back now, I believe this was OCD.
I constantly scanned my mind to see if the thought was still there. Whenever it popped back into my head, I’d think, “Great…how long is it going to stay this time?”
At this point, I was a complete mess.
Then came the moment that completely broke me.
One night, lying in bed, I had an intrusive thought accompanied by an intrusive image. Minutes later, as I was falling asleep, I started seeing brief flashes of the image every time I closed my eyes.
I immediately had a panic attack.
I woke my girlfriend up and told her everything.
I attached enormous meaning to that thought. In that moment, I felt like I no longer knew who I was. I became convinced I was secretly a horrible, monstrous person.
I spent that entire weekend ruminating and even contemplated suicide.
The next two weeks were absolute hell.
I mentally reviewed every memory I had, desperately trying to prove that the thought meant something about me. I found “evidence” everywhere. I constantly wanted to confess to my girlfriend because I needed to know how she saw me, since I no longer trusted myself.
Thankfully, my girlfriend had recently listened to a podcast about Pure OCD, and she encouraged me to find a therapist immediately.
That happened in August of last year.
I spent months in therapy, sometimes twice a week. Looking back, the amount of reassurance I needed every day—sometimes every hour—was astonishing.
Every time my brain “cleared” one fear, it immediately created another.
I was miserable. I stopped working out. I stayed in bed most days. I wanted relief more than anything.
But I never drank.
Over the following months, my OCD shifted themes constantly. It bounced between alcohol, morality, intrusive thoughts, and fears that I was secretly an evil person.
Over the last month, I’ve finally started seeing real progress.
At my worst, these thoughts occupied about 95% of my day. They even made their way into my dreams.
Now I’d estimate they’re closer to 40%, and they don’t carry nearly the same level of anxiety.
I still have days where I don’t believe the thoughts at all, and other days where I’m completely convinced they’re true.
I understand that ERP teaches us to accept uncertainty, but for me it feels like I absolutely must know the answer because if the thoughts are true, I don’t think I could live with myself.
Overall, though, I’m doing much better.
At my last therapy session, we didn’t even talk about my Pure OCD. We only discussed my relationship, and that felt like a huge milestone.
Now, to the reason I’m writing this post.
If you’ve made it this far, thank you so much.
My current struggle is that I feel caught between two people I trust.
My therapist believes this is OCD. She believes I have a well-understood mental health condition that responds to therapy and, for some people, medication.
My AA sponsor doesn’t deny that OCD exists, but he’s a deeply spiritual person. He believes my intrusive thoughts and obsessions are closely related to my addiction and that my ultimate solution is the same one that saved me from alcoholism: working the 12 Steps and relying on a Higher Power.
I understand why he thinks that. Both addiction and OCD involve obsessions that seem impossible to stop.
The problem is what happens in my own head.
When I connect my Pure OCD to my addiction, my brain immediately concludes that I’m secretly the person my intrusive thoughts say I am and that I’m simply resisting the inevitable.
As you can imagine, that’s terrifying for someone with OCD.
My sponsor suggested I attend a Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting—not because he thinks I necessarily belong there, but because he thought I might relate to some of the people.
That suggestion immediately sent me into another spiral.
My brain said, “If I go to that meeting, I’m admitting I’m a sex addict. And if I’m a sex addict, maybe all of these intrusive thoughts and images are actually who I am.”
For the last two days, I’ve been obsessing over whether or not I’m a sex addict.
Part of my brain says:
“Look at the pattern. This is classic OCD.”
The other part says:
“But you’ve always struggled with relationships.”
“You think other women are attractive.”
“You’ve worried about sex before.”
“Maybe this isn’t OCD at all.”
Then I’m right back down the rabbit hole trying to figure out whether I’m actually a sex addict.
I’ve had this fear before. I’ve even stopped watching porn and masturbating because I wanted to improve my relationship.
Right now, I feel completely stuck.
Has anyone here dealt with both addiction and OCD?
The two seem so closely related at times that I struggle to tell where one ends and the other begins.
I’m constantly asking myself:
“Is this OCD, or am I just an addict?”
“Is this OCD, or do I secretly want these thoughts?”
“Is this OCD, or does being a sex addict mean these thoughts are actually who I am?”
If anyone has experience with both recovery and OCD, I would really appreciate hearing your perspective.
Thank you for reading.
