What I want people to understand about OCD

My OCD Story

In 6th grade, I was homeschooled. Not because of anything anyone could see from the outside. But because everything felt darkly overwhelming. I didn’t have words for it then. The closest I could get was this. It felt like my soul was being ripped in half.

That was the beginning. Or at least the first time I couldn’t hide it.

Through my 20s I got very good at pretending. Holding it all in. Smiling through it at work, showing up for people, putting on a face day in and day out while slowly falling apart on the inside. I was anxious, lost, and scared in a way I couldn’t explain. The intrusive thoughts made me feel like I was a terrible person. Like something was deeply, fundamentally wrong with me. I didn’t know what OCD was. I just knew my mind felt like a place I didn’t want to be.

It led to mental breakdowns. And still, I held it in.

The scariest part wasn’t the thoughts themselves. It was the shame around them. OCD handed me unwanted, intrusive thoughts and then told me they meant something about who I was. That I was dangerous. That I was secretly a monster. I know now that couldn’t be further from the truth. But when you’re in it, alone, with no name for what’s happening, you believe it.

The moment I couldn’t pretend anymore

There came a point where I didn’t think I was going to be functional anymore. I was scared I couldn’t take care of my family. And I remember being scared to even be around my kids because my intrusive thoughts made me feel like I was dangerous to them.

That was my lowest moment.

But something else lived inside that fear too. A voice that said I am not going to end up like my father. Addicted. Gone. Abandoning the people who needed him. That was not going to be my story.

So I stopped caring what people thought. I got honest about not being okay. And I asked for help.

The diagnosis that changed everything

My OCD diagnosis didn’t come right away. It actually revealed itself through a medication trial specifically used for OCD. When I started improving in ways I hadn’t before, that’s when the picture became clear. There was a name for what I had been carrying my entire life.

I told my wife first. Then my best friend. That was enough to start.

What I want people to understand about OCD is this, it isn’t always what you see in movies or TV. It isn’t just hand washing or checking locks. Mental compulsions are the heart of it. The invisible ones. The ones that happen entirely inside your mind, all day long, that nobody around you can see. That’s what makes it so isolating. And that’s why so many people suffer in silence for years without ever knowing what’s wrong.

I was one of them. For a long time.

What’s on the other side

Today OCD does not control me. I know myself well. I know what my mind and body are trying to do, and I ride that wave instead of fighting it.

Becoming a husband gave me strength I didn’t know I had. Becoming a father gave me something worth fighting for. And going through all of it made me a better leader, more empathetic, more human, more able to sit with someone else’s pain without flinching.

My wife knows. My kids know. But I don’t make excuses and I never let it become one. It’s part of my story, not a reason to stay stuck.

There was a moment, one specific moment, when I finally let myself relax. Really relax. And I realized the weight was gone. That emotional and mental heaviness that had held me against the ground for so long had lifted. Life felt wonderful in a way I hadn’t known was possible.

That’s what I want for you.

If you’re reading this and hiding

Hiding your true self is the deepest pain you can hold. I know because I carried it for years.

It is okay to not have it all together. Asking for help is not weakness. It is the bravest, most honest thing you can do. That is what a true leader looks like. That is what a true person looks like.

You are not a monster. You are not broken. You are not alone.

There is life on the other side of this. A full one. A free one.

by Brandon Williams