By Ruth Boon
For two seconds when I woke up each morning, I wouldn’t think about it; there were two seconds of perfect bliss before the intrusive thoughts kicked in. Even when I awoke at three in the morning to do one of my nighttime toilet trips, the thoughts would swirl like oil behind my eyelids. I’d sit on the loo, underwear around my ankles, large sighs of exhaustion escaping my chest. Please just shut up, I would think, just go away, leave me alone. The more I’d ask for my intrusive thoughts to leave, the more deeply embedded they would become.
OCD is a complex mental health disorder composed of distressing obsessions (generally in the form of intrusive thoughts) and compulsions (usually enacted to “alleviate” the intrusive thoughts). People can have OCD about lots of things. A few common themes include: religion and spirituality, sensorimotor fixations, health, sexuality, pedophilia, harm, and relationships. OCD generally works by attacking things that you value.
My biggest OCD theme centers around romantic relationships. Sometimes this is referred to as Relationship OCD, or ROCD. Instead of having obsessive thoughts and compulsions telling me I need to clean a kitchen counter or my entire family will die, I have obsessive thoughts about whether or not I love my partner. At their worst, these thoughts flicker into my consciousness continuously, a constant voice screaming sharply in my head. I also have repetitive compulsions that I use to “check” the validity of my love. These compulsions come in many forms:
Seeking validation from others, including my partner: I might lie in bed with my partner and ask him exactly to describe how love feels to him, attempting to align this with my own emotions.
Physical body scanning: When kissing my partner, I may physically check whether I “feel in love” or am sexually aroused by my partner.
Neutralizing unwanted thoughts: If I had a thought that my partner was unhelpful, I might repeatedly make a list of all the ways he is helpful.
Comparing emotions: I may compare the feelings I have for my partner with those of previous relationships or experiences.
Avoidance: I have had periods where I would avoid anything that reminded me of love or relationships (like songs or TV shows) because they would trigger an anxiety spiral.
Sometimes these compulsions are so strong that they overpower the intrusive thoughts. Sometimes the intrusive thoughts are so loud that I completely disassociate. Maybe this doesn’t sound that bad. Maybe you’re thinking, that’s a walk in the park compared to somebody obsessing over whether they are going to die. And yes, perhaps it seems that way, but when a person experiences a bad bout of OCD, the level of distress felt is immense. For me, the idea that I couldn’t feel or experience true love, the one thing that united all of humanity, absolutely ruined me.
I have had OCD about men, women, and nonbinary people alike. It wasn’t until 2021, when I met my current partner that I knew I needed help. Meeting “Henry” was like stepping into a cool, blue lake on a hot summer’s day. Henry is a very calm person, always willing to listen to others and take the time to understand people. When we first started dating, and I was constantly in fits of tears and anxiety, Henry didn’t run away or shame me for my mental health; instead, he read up on it. He learned not to give in to my reassurance-seeking compulsions. He gave me the space to be open and truly honest about my thoughts and feelings.
Previously, I have had partners who weren’t so generous with their compassion. Some of their behaviors reinforced many of the compulsions that I still live with today. I’ve had partners who would quiz me about my dreams, who would check to see if my pupils dilated when I looked at them to see if I was “really in love.” I’ve had partners who would obsess over my sexual history and insist I tell them everyone that I’d slept with. During the height of one of my worst OCD spirals, I was fired from my waitressing job. The last thing my manager said to me was: “You’re not well. I can tell you’re not well.” My partner at the time didn’t seem to mind that I got fired; in fact, he seemed partially pleased that he could now have me to himself, despite the fact that in actuality, I was a shell of my true self.
When I met Henry, I had been so used to being manipulated that when he said, “I really like you.” in my kitchen one day, I reacted poorly. I pulled away, replying, “Why are you saying that?!” So not only was I struggling with intrusive thoughts, but I also struggled to understand what a “normal” relationship looked like, furthering my confusion about what love felt like. All of this was made even more stressful by the fact that, as well as being bisexual and having OCD, I also realized that I was non-monogamous. I never cheated on any of my partners, but I realized that in many of my previous relationships I had been suppressing a part of myself that is loving, affectionate, and driven by human connection. It was only when I met Henry that I could be completely transparent about being queer, sexually liberated, and non-monogamous.
Having Relationship OCD means I have spent considerable time thinking about love and what it means. Though this is sometimes unhelpful, it has also brought some good. One of the conclusions I always come back to is that love should be rooted in friendship and mutual trust. I have never been with anyone who makes me feel so comfortable being my full self. I have never been with somebody whom I can laugh and be silly with in the way I can with Henry. With Henry, I have absolutely nothing to hide. And partly, I have OCD to thank for that. One of the compulsions I have struggled with is feeling the need to confess when I had a thought or feeling about somebody else. I was confused. I couldn’t tell whether I was overanalyzing my feelings as a symptom of anxiety or processing a very real understanding of my own relationship orientation.
Henry listened to me without judgment. Because he’d researched Relationship OCD, he knew when to ask empathetic questions and when to notice OCD-like compulsions and not give in to reassurance. Don’t get me wrong, Henry wasn’t psychic. Sometimes I couldn’t tell the difference between an intrusive thought and a regular thought—but being with someone who listened to me and let me express myself without judgment was incredible. Not only this, but Henry is thoughtful, creative, funny, and interesting. Together, we love long walks to delicious sandwich shops, going to post-punk gigs, and reading next to each other in bed.
These days, my intrusive thoughts are much quieter. Sometimes they come back, but mostly they are accompanied by the feeling of loving somebody and knowing that someone who knows me and understands me loves me back. Feeling understood is a true privilege of existence and one that I hope everyone gets to experience at least once in their lives. The mutual respect my partner and I share feels fluffy, soft, and comforting, like a silky orange cat nestled in my lap. Maybe to some, that sounds overly practical or unromantic, but to me, there’s nothing more magical than sitting opposite my partner, eating giant vegan sandwiches and chatting about absolutely anything that comes to our minds. I love being with someone who allows me to fully be myself and who supports my lifelong endeavor to comprehend the complexities of love and relationships. Now, when I wake up at three in the morning to pee, I am no longer consumed with doubts and intrusive thoughts. With a soft-focus mind, I drift to the toilet of the little flat that Henry and I rent, I sit on the loo, and then I climb back in bed with my wonderful partner and give him a massive cuddle.
Ruth Boon is a writer living in South East London, U.K. interested in sexuality, relationships, and politics. She’s contributed poems to various publications, including Horizon Magazine, the San Mei Gallery’s “Goodbye Scarecrow” pamphlet and Away with Words. Her short story, “Any Day Now,” published in Ragaire Literary Magazine, was nominated for the Pushcart Prize. She has written articles and essays for How To publication and Salty magazine and is the proud captain of a queer-centered, mixed-gender football club.