In this week’s blog, Hussain shares his OCD story:
For years, I didn’t know I had OCD.
I just thought something was deeply wrong with me.
My mind produced thoughts I was terrified of—violent, disturbing, blasphemous thoughts that went completely against who I was. They felt intrusive, unwanted, and cruel. The worst part wasn’t the thoughts themselves, but what OCD told me those thoughts meant.
It said they revealed my true character.
It said I was dangerous.
It said I was one mistake away from ruining everything.
So I tried to control my mind.
I monitored every thought.
I checked my intentions constantly.
I replayed moments in my head, searching for certainty that I hadn’t done something wrong.
I didn’t realize I was feeding OCD the entire time.
When Fear Followed Me Everywhere
One of the most exhausting themes OCD attached itself to was the fear of harming someone.
If I drove over a bump in the road, my heart would drop. My mind instantly told me I had hit someone. I would replay the drive over and over, scan my memory, check my emotions, even look for reassurance in my surroundings. No amount of logic helped. OCD always found another “what if.”
There were days I felt trapped inside my own head, unable to trust my senses, my memory, or myself.
At other times, OCD targeted my faith.
I experienced religious scrupulosity that made me afraid of my own thoughts during prayer. I felt intense guilt for things I never chose to think. I tried to suppress thoughts, neutralize them, or punish myself mentally for having them.
It was exhausting. And incredibly lonely.
From the outside, I looked normal.
Inside, I was constantly at war.
The Shift That Changed Everything
Things didn’t change because I found the “right” reassurance or finally proved my fears wrong.
They changed when I began to understand OCD.
I learned that intrusive thoughts are not intentions.
That anxiety is not evidence.
That OCD survives on checking, reassurance, and mental rituals.
The hardest lesson was this: I didn’t need certainty to move forward.
I slowly learned to stop engaging with the thoughts. To let them exist without arguing, analyzing, or fixing them. At first, this felt terrifying—like giving up control. But over time, something surprising happened.
The thoughts lost their power.
Not because they disappeared, but because I stopped treating them as meaningful.
Why I Share My Story
I share my story because I know how convincing OCD can be when you’re in it.
I know how real the fear feels.
I know how much shame can come with thoughts you’d never choose.
And I know how hard it is to explain OCD to someone who hasn’t lived it.
That’s why I created The Struggling Warrior — a space where OCD is talked about honestly, without sugarcoating or stereotypes. On my website, I share personal stories, educational articles, and recovery-focused tools built from both lived experience and evidence-based therapy approaches.
Writing became a way for me to make sense of what I went through—and to help others feel less alone. You can find more of my work, resources, and ongoing projects at https://thestrugglingwarrior.com/
If You’re Reading This and Struggling
If OCD has convinced you that your thoughts define you, please hear this:
They don’t.
OCD attacks what you care about most.
It thrives on doubt, guilt, and fear.
And it can make even the strongest person feel broken.
You are not broken.
Recovery isn’t about becoming your old self again. It’s about learning how to live fully—even with uncertainty—and realizing you were never the problem in the first place.
If my story helps even one person feel understood, then sharing it is worth it.