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does anyone else use the fact that they dont like their thoughts as a confirmation/compulsion, and or when you go through something stressful with little to no compulsions take it as a sign they actually like it? is this apart of usual rumination or am I expirencing something different? and how do you deal with it?

I'm having the hardest time right now with my own ruminating negative thoughts that may or may not possibly come true. I fear the worst and replay what that looks like in my head over and over. The best I can do is my best and wait for the horror to end. I want to cry, but can't. I'm scared and alone in my head. My anxiety is extreme. What should I do in the meantime while I'm going through this? How can I minimize or stop the way I'm feeling? Please, I need help.

I have a lot of thoughts about the universe, and they’re overwhelming—like being caught in a rip current, except it’s all inside my head. Most of the time, they’re about how small we are, how there really isn’t a “we” because our bodies aren’t truly ours—we’re just bacteria, cells, and microbes. The thoughts spiral, deeper and deeper, smaller and smaller, coiling until suddenly, I’m pulled under, drowning in a whirlpool. I’ve never felt like this before, and I’m convinced I’ve been faking it somehow. For the past few weeks, my OCD has been worse than it’s ever been in my 20 years of life. Or maybe I’m just more aware of it now. Has anyone else had their OCD suddenly get really bad? Does it ever end—if it even can? I’ve convinced myself that my intrusive thoughts aren’t actually intrusive, that my OCD is a choice, and that everything I do is intentional. As for compulsions, I don’t have the typical “If I don’t do ____ then ____ will happen” kind of thoughts. Instead, my brain simply commands, “Do ____,” and I always give in. It’s so loud in my head, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m an imposter. Like I don’t belong here—like my presence on this app is an intrusion, invalidating everyone else’s struggles just by downloading it and daring to post. If anyone feels that way, if you think I’m intruding, I’m sorry. I only came here because I have no one to share my diagnosis with. Pouring my thoughts out, hoping someone might understand, feels less suffocating than journaling. Journaling is like letting a wound fester—each word burying the thoughts deeper, leaving them to decay in silence, for nobody to ever read but myself.