It Took Me 24 years to Realize I Have OCD
And even longer to understand what that meant
Twenty. Four. Years.
I always imagined OCD as:
That book isn’t sitting exactly right. Now I need to move it.
Everything needs to be placed in a specific order.
I need to tap everything three times.
Like many people, I understood that the foundation of OCD is built on obsessive thoughts – and that those thoughts lead to compulsions.
Makes sense, right? It’s literally spelled out for you: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
What I didn’t realize is how complex it is, and how it manifests differently for each person.
Looking back on my childhood, I can now see some very obvious signs that I had OCD.
I was only able to come to this conclusion after actually learning what OCD is – and how many people live with it without even realizing it.
There are several types of OCD. Some people have “Symmetry OCD,” also known as “Just Right” OCD, as I described above.
And to be clear – this type of OCD shouldn’t be overlooked. None of them should.
It can be debilitating to constantly feel the need to arrange, count, or repeat actions just to feel a sense of completeness. There is no “better” or “worse” type of OCD.
It’s important to understand the different types of OCD and how they manifest – especially if:
You have OCD
Or someone you love has OCD
Disclaimer: I’m not a doctor or a medical expert, and I’m not qualified to give medical advice. I’m sharing my experience to help people understand what it feels like to live with OCD every day. I’m writing this to help people feel understood.
I don’t want to present myself as an expert. But I will include resources at the end for anyone who would like to learn more or seek help, because there are professionals who can help you manage this.
The Four Main Categories
When diagnosed with OCD, you’re not formally assigned a subtype – but understanding them still matters.
Subtypes help explain how OCD manifests for someone, which can help medical professionals figure out the best way to treat it.
There are several OCD subtypes, but they generally fall into four main categories:
Harm-related themes
Contamination fears
Symmetry or perfectionism
Taboo or “forbidden” thoughts
As I said earlier, no subtype is better or worse than another.
However, taboo-themed OCD can seem more serious. These subtypes often involve intrusive thoughts that feel immoral or even illegal. Because of that, people assume they’re more dangerous.
But they’re not.
Talking about subtypes helps normalize symptoms. It reminds people that they aren’t alone.
Harm OCD is the subtype I’ve lived with most of my life – and honestly, it’s been awful. It’s caused so much shame. So much guilt. So much fear.
And I feel like it’s time I talk about it – the good, the bad, and the ugly.
My Experience with Harm OCD
I know I’m lucky.
My OCD symptoms have improved a lot since I started taking anxiety medication about 8 years ago – something that’s often prescribed for OCD as well. That doesn’t mean I’m “cured.” I still have obsessive thoughts and compulsions. They’re just not constant anymore. They tend to get worse when I’m stressed or anxious.
But awareness has been the biggest turning point for me. When I feel a compulsion coming on, my body immediately goes into a state of chaos and anxiety. Over time, I’ve trained myself to recognize that feeling.
That recognition acts like an internal alarm: this is OCD.
And once I can separate the thought from who I am, I’m usually able to calm myself down. Because those thoughts? They don’t reflect me.
Harm OCD, often categorized as a “taboo subtype,” involves intrusive fears about harming yourself or others, either accidentally or intentionally. To someone without OCD, that might sound alarming.
But these thoughts aren’t driven by actual intent or desire. In fact, people with harm OCD are less likely to act on them.
Instead, the mind creates the worst possible scenarios and then tries to convince you they might be real.
To prevent harm, someone might:
Avoid knives or sharp objects
Stay away from people or certain places
Repeatedly check for signs that something bad happened
As a child, I often tried to convince myself that something bad was going to happen. Sometimes I didn’t even know what that “something bad” was. Other times, it was extremely specific.
If my dad was late getting home from work, I immediately assumed he had been in a car accident.
I could feel it – like it had already happened. My heart would drop. My chest would tighten. I’d picture my mom crying after getting the call.
And then, I’d hear the garage door. He was home. He was fine. Nothing happened.
Relief.
To this day, if I’m handling a knife, I’ll think:
What if I accidentally stabbed my spouse with this knife?
What if I drop it, and it lands on my dog?
So I avoid it when I can. Or I clean it with my arms fully extended, as far away from me as possible. The thoughts are terrifying.
And because they’re so uncomfortable, I try to shut them down however I can, which is where the compulsions come in. If I couldn’t prevent something bad from happening, I had to find a way to “control” it.
I’d pray frantically.
I’d press my fingers together for 12 seconds (my “lucky” number).
I’d count in multiples of 12 over and over again.
Sometimes I’d feel the urge to do something completely random – just because the thought popped into my head. Because once the thought is there, it sticks.
You obsess over it. You start to believe it, even though it’s the last thing you would ever want. Then your mind scrambles for anything that might prevent it from happening. None of this feels rational. And the person experiencing it knows that.
But they still can’t stop. Because those compulsions bring temporary relief. They quiet the anxiety – even if only for a moment.
The Moment Everything Clicked
Sometime last year, I was doomscrolling on TikTok (I know, not ideal) when I saw a video about misconceptions about OCD. For years, I thought I was the only one who had these awful thoughts. I assumed it must mean I was a bad person.
Because what kind of good person thinks like that?
But in the video, the creator started explaining different types of OCD – and then she shared examples of intrusive thoughts. And some of them? They were exactly the thoughts I had been hiding for years.
The same ones I refused to tell anyone. Even my therapist. Because I thought they were too shameful to say out loud.
So I did more research. And everything I found pointed to OCD. Eventually, I brought it up to my doctor. I told her what I’d learned, what I’d experienced.
She told me that based on what I described, it was very likely that I have OCD. And the medication I was already taking? It already helps treat it.
If I wanted to adjust anything or go back to therapy, we could – but that wasn’t the point for me. I didn’t need a solution at that moment. I needed confirmation.
I needed to know I wasn’t broken. That I wasn’t a bad person. That there was a reason my brain worked this way. That I could finally let go of some of that shame.
And with that awareness came something I hadn’t felt in a long time:
Relief.
The kind of relief you feel when you finally get a diagnosis. Because it means there’s something you can do. It means you’re not just stuck this way forever.
I felt it at 18 when I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression.
I felt it again at 21 when I was diagnosed with ADD.
And at 24, I felt it once more – when OCD finally had a name. I’m so grateful for that clarity.
But it also hurts to know how many people go years – decades, even, without it. How many people live in silence, thinking they’re alone?
That’s why we need to talk about it. We need better, more accurate representations of mental illness – in schools, in media, in everyday conversations.
We need people to write about it. We need podcasts. We need more. Because the more we talk about it, the more normal it becomes.
And when it’s normalized, people are less afraid to:
Speak up
Ask for help
Try therapy
Take medication
Open up to the people they love
That matters.
Because it helps people stay alive. And it helps people who are alive actually enjoy their lives. No one deserves to walk through life feeling miserable and stuck.
People deserve to feel better.
They deserve tools.
They deserve hope.
So we need to keep talking about it.
And I’m not going to stop.
