A Need to Share

01 Rob first began experiencing violent intrusive thoughts around the age of 10. He grew up in a religious household, and thought these thoughts were God's way of testing him.

02 To neutralize his thoughts, he'd engage in various rituals. However, they never helped and only made his thoughts worse.

03 As Rob got older, he kept these symptoms quiet. Even now, few people in his life know about his battle with OCD.

04 After a close friend died by suicide, Rob decided to seek treatment. He is now making progress with the help of therapy and medication.

For various reasons, most likely those sitting at the intersection of culture, personality, race, gender, and even perhaps cowardice, this part of my life is a relative unknown to those who know me.

That statement seems a little self important, but after reading the countless experiences of others, I too think that if my story helps even one person seek help, feel connected or find support, that sharing it is worthwhile.

For me, the violent, intrusive thoughts began when I was around ten years old.

I grew up in a church going family. At the time, I thought they were God testing me. I was sinful, evil, and perhaps even possessed. Therefore, I needed to ensure that God knew I was committed, devoted and good.

The cycle of thoughts would often begin when I walked by a knife in the kitchen, or saw something violent on television, or took part in a conversation with friends about a violent movie or event. When they came, I engaged in rituals. I prayed. I scanned. I tapped. I did all these things in multiples of threes and seven — biblical numbers — those associated with God, the holy trinity, and creation of the world.

What is Religious OCD?

Dr. Phillipson defines and discusses Religious OCD, also known as Scrupulosity.

But of course, this didn't stop them from coming. They only intensified. In an effort to gain control, I added to my rituals and routines. I scanned, tapped, and prayed more, with larger multiples of threes or sevens. I focused more on the presence of the number six in my life. At the time, six signified that evil was near and I needed to atone. I had to prove to God that I was loyal; that I was good.

At ten, eleven and twelve years old, I knew that my behavior was irrational, however, I was terrified to share the violent thoughts that flashed through my mind.

In addition to my rituals and routines, I became adept at avoiding and hiding. I am still trying to unravel the patterns of behavior that developed during this time of my life. There were a couple of times I inquired about my friends’ thoughts, but my vague questions were generally met with concerned looks and irreverence. Many times the sense of shame and vulnerability I felt was worse than the actual thoughts.

Boys were supposed to be tough. My Dad was tough. My friends were tough. At minimum, I thought I could fake it. I tried to keep my secret close to the vest. Undoubtedly, my attempted invulnerability just increased my loneliness. I became more skilled at avoiding situations that could expose me.

In an effort to gain control, I added to my rituals and routines. I scanned, tapped, and prayed more, with larger multiples of threes or sevens.

In high school I began self-medicating, and it wasn’t until a depressive breakdown in college, that I finally began prescription medication and therapy.

The medication, self-medicating, and intermittent therapy would sustain me for several years, but I was still very reluctant to share my intrusive thoughts. In therapy it was just easier to focus on my feelings of sadness and how that impacted my life.

Then, in 2018 a close friend and mentor committed suicide. Soon after, I was once again plagued by violent intrusive thoughts. I knew what it was, but I was overwhelmed. I had relapsed and I was not confident I would make it through without help, and taking a new approach.

Since that time, I have found a regiment of therapy, medication, and meditation that makes me feel encouraged. ERP therapy, accepting myself, and being vulnerable have been overwhelming, challenging but undoubtedly beneficial. One year ago, I would not have been able to write this account, but by discovering a need to share, I know I am making progress.