I see you, Howie Mandel

I was super recently diagnosed with OCD and nervous to share my diagnosis with my family. I’m a somewhat messy person and don’t have germophobic tendencies, so since I don’t have the stereotypical OCD presentation I was terrified that nobody would believe me. I ended up talking to my mom and making a silly TikTok post about it, which my grandma saw. Not only did they believe and support me–I learned that my grandma has it too! Funny to look back on, but really cool to see that the worst outcome doesn’t always happen. (:

Last night I watched The Aviator (2004) for the very first time and I am shook at how much I related to Leonardo DiCaprio's depiction of Howard Hughes and his severe OCD. I never realized just how differently OCD can present, not just with the germ theme but as agoraphobia and not eating and verbal looping. If I had seen this when I was younger I wondered if I would have caught on sooner that I had severe OCD and not have been misdiagnosed until age 41 with other severe mental illnesses. If I had seen the scenes of Howard Hughes's mental breakdowns in The Aviator (2004) ... They looked so much like mine. Too much like mine. But without knowing about Exposure Response Therapy I still wouldn't have done anything about it. Deep down I knew I had it, probably knew by my late twenties, I just didn't have a name for it because they depicted OCD as these weird little actions you have to do before you do what you want, like turn a light on and off or count ceiling tiles, and not the things I do. And they never explained what was behind the compulsion, so I didn't know I was performing compulsions. I just wondered why I was exhausted all the time and had trouble with executive functioning. But the signs were there ever since I was a child. If I couldn't do it perfectly or figure out a way to do it perfectly I wouldn't initiate anything. Not for lack of initiative. So I wasn't washing my hands to bleeding or eating only 6 peas. I was writing until my hands were sore, memorizing Bible verses, uncontrollably glitching verbal loops, and suffering sleepless nights because my bedroom walls were not the exact shade of blue I wanted or I didn't start the day in the right order and it felt life-threatening. I remember in sixth grade I yelled out, "Spider!" That gave me the feeling of safety I chased and then I literally could not stop yelling it out, I was even annoying myself and everyone else and telling people I couldn't stop but all that would come out is the word "spider!" So I grew up miserable thinking I was the weird little girl in class not knowing I was sick. And that turned into the weird adult trying to hide the fact they were weird from everyone else until I broke over and over again. And that's when my adulthood sometimes looked like being frozen on the couch, porch, or bedroom for days, weeks, months convinced everything was crawling with bugs and avoiding everyone's phone calls and eating only popsicles, doctors thinking my repetitive glitch brain meant I was hearing voices and my lack of hygiene was something else. I was afraid of the harm I did, I was afraid I was in trouble, I was afraid I'd harmed other people without knowing it, and I was afraid I was too gross to love. This is still true to this day. Under the care of professionals almost all my life and only correctly diagnosed at age 41 when it feels like it's too late to make it better because I've been burned out for years is daunting. But I'm still here and it's been almost six years since my last hospitalization. I no longer think I am a monster. That in itself is more than I ever dreamed of.

Hi NOCD community, I wanted to share my story of my journey so far with OCD to provide perspective to anyone who needs it. I can't believe how far I have come with a huge part because of my NOCD treatment and utilizing ERP. For reference I am a 24-year old male, so for anyone who is like me and on the fence with treatment, trust me it is worth it. If you ever want to talk about OCD and are not sure where to start or need guidance please do not hesitate to reach out to me. I am now almost 2-years into treatment and working on recovery to this day. Sending my support to all. My OCD Story Adolescence Growing up, I didn’t know what mental health was—or even much about who I was. I was somewhat consciously aware, but something always felt off. My life seemed surrounded by reacting to fear instead of exploring or discovering like a regular kid. It felt like there was a switch in my brain that never let me settle in. My earliest compulsions were more physical than mental. One example that likely went unnoticed was how I would obsessively organize and align my toys in a certain way. It may have seemed like I was just being finicky, but now I recognize this as an early sign of OCD. The key is understanding that anything can become a compulsion—it’s not about what you do, but why you do it. In my case, it was always to avoid a bad outcome or neutralize a feeling. Another moment that stands out was in preschool during a performance. I was reciting something I can’t remember in front of an audience—a common childhood fear—but the way I coped was by repeatedly hitting myself in the head with my fist. I wasn’t aware I was doing it, but it calmed me, even though inflicting pain had no logical connection to the fear itself. Looking back, this was clearly a physical tic. My dreams were disturbing too. I’d experience that terrifying space between sleep and consciousness. My parents once had to put my limbs in ice just to fully wake me. And even the process of going to sleep became ritualistic. I had to jump into bed using my left foot, pray a specific way (including naming everyone I didn’t want to be affected by harm), rotate clockwise, shake my pillow four times, and do various actions around my room—cleaning, checking the door, and more. All to prevent the visions in my mind from becoming real. Teenage Years Though my childhood was tough, things really escalated in high school. My family life was chaotic—divorce, shifting homes, and being the older sibling trying to hold it together. I was smart and creative, and I found joy in creative writing, fantasy books, cartoons, video production, and drawing. But the storm really hit freshman year of high school. I was bullied relentlessly—for being shorter, having low self-esteem, and dealing with an undiagnosed mental illness. One night while trying to fall asleep, I noticed my heart beating fast. I panicked, convinced something was wrong. My dad said it was heartburn and gave me soda (caffeine), which only made things worse. I slept maybe an hour, and we went to the ER the next morning. After a full workup and an EKG, the doctor concluded I was physically fine and gave me anti-anxiety medication. But that wasn’t the end. I had more episodes. I became obsessed with the idea that something was wrong with my body. I had blood drawn thinking I had a thyroid issue. I panicked at doctor’s visits, which spiked my blood pressure, fueling more health fears. I was also in an advanced biology class, learning about diseases and cancers—which triggered me to the point I felt like I was going to pass out. Motion sickness and vertigo became a daily fear, and I became terrified it would never go away. That became a core theme in my health-related OCD and deeply affected my quality of life. It was also during this time I developed HOCD (Homosexual OCD). Intrusive thoughts about my male friends consumed me. I couldn’t relax around them or enjoy hanging out. I compulsively told myself I was straight, watched porn to “test” my reaction, and mentally analyzed everything I thought or felt. It was exhausting. It chipped away at my confidence, especially with women, though I know other external factors played a role in that too. Still, I had no education around mental health and assumed this chaos in my mind was normal—or that anyone seeking help had to be “crazy.” I couldn’t have been more wrong. Adulthood Despite all that, I managed to graduate high school with good marks—even finishing at a new school I attended for just eight weeks after moving in with my mom. College was a major turning point. For the first time, I experienced independence and the ability to sit with my thoughts. I still didn’t know what I was dealing with, but being away from a broken home and forging my own identity was incredibly freeing. Freshman year felt like a fresh start…until the pandemic hit. Like many others, I was forced to return home. For someone with OCD, the sudden lack of control and isolation was devastating. I was trapped in my room, stuck in my head, with nothing but virtual classes and uncertainty. Still, I eventually got back to campus, focused on my career in the sports and entertainment industry, and was accepted into a prestigious program while working multiple internships and completing challenging coursework. But with roommates and stress came new obsessions—and still, no diagnosis. I eventually sought therapy for anxiety, realizing my mental state was unsustainable. That’s when two of my most distressing OCD subtypes emerged: Staring OCD and POCD. They worked together in the worst way—fears of inappropriately staring at people, especially children. It felt like I couldn’t exist in public without fearing I’d harm someone just by looking at them. It shattered my self-worth. I couldn’t enjoy life, couldn’t even look in the mirror. The guilt and shame consumed me. I turned to talk therapy, where I was diagnosed with severe anxiety and depression. While sessions brought momentary relief, it quickly became clear I wasn’t getting better. In fact, the act of confessing my thoughts—seeking reassurance—was fueling the OCD. Still, I didn’t have the language for it. After doing my own research (a compulsion in itself), I discovered POCD and Staring OCD. For the first time, I read stories that sounded exactly like mine. I brought this to my therapist, but they dismissed it. Unfortunately, OCD is still widely misunderstood—even among professionals. Because I didn’t fit the “cleaning and checking” stereotype, I wasn’t taken seriously. In 2023—just two years ago—I found NOCD, a teletherapy platform specializing in OCD. I scheduled a free consultation, thinking “Why not?” I was miserable and desperate for relief. The therapist who evaluated me confirmed: I had OCD. She administered the DSM-5 criteria and said I was a textbook case. This was the turning point. Through NOCD, I finally received proper treatment with Exposure and Response Prevention (ERP). I learned how OCD functions, how to track and reduce compulsions, and how to sit with discomfort instead of running from it. It took time—5 to 6 months before I noticed true change—but for the first time in my life, I felt heard. I wasn't alone. NOCD gave me a judgment-free space to unpack the most disturbing thoughts and to not be defined by them. I won’t sugarcoat it—this journey has been painful, frustrating, and nonlinear. I still live with OCD every day. But now I have tools. I’ve continued treatment with multiple NOCD therapists, joined support groups, and practiced exposures: scripting, imaginal scenarios, response prevention, you name it. I’ve learned to live with uncertainty instead of trying to solve the unsolvable. The biggest lesson? Stop trying to figure it out. OCD is emotional, not logical. The moment I stopped trying to outthink it and changed my relationship with it, everything shifted. Today, I’m not “cured,” but I’m grounded. I’m more myself than I’ve ever been. And now, I want to give back. I want to share my story so others know that they’re not alone—and that OCD doesn’t have to rule your life. Whether you're 14, 24, or 44—there is help, and there is hope.