Life as I Knew It, Hijacked and Rewritten by One Thought

How one OCD trigger spiraled into years of fear, compulsions, and recovery

With OCD, there are moments that don’t just feel intrusive, they feel life-altering. Your identity feels thrown into question, and nothing ever feels it will be safe again. Everything you knew before one thought, one image, or one feeling can be stripped from you in an instant. And who you wanted or could have been feels no longer an option.

In my previous blog, I describe what it feels like to experience OCD at the trigger point, stuck in what we refer as the ‘OCD haze’. The OCD haze is one of the most terrifying experiences that happens when living with OCD. As I describe in the previous blog, words cannot fully capture the depth of fear when the trigger we face feels like it has altered everything we once knew to be true. The feelings accompanying this fear are as terrifying, and their duty to warn of the potential threat is a code red for all our senses.

In this blog, I focus on that particular moment of fear, capturing how just one moment may hijack us for weeks, months and sometimes years. And later, I will share practical strategies I implement to move through the shock when I am frozen in the moment. These strategies help remind me that despite feeling overtaken by OCD, I have agency, I can choose acceptance, and I am safe.

One of the most poignant moments that terrorized and altered my life forever was when I first experienced sexual intrusive thoughts. In a split second, my life changed course when I had an unwanted image of a friend. My body objected to the thought and felt repulsed, but my mind had a different response.

My body says: Disgust. Repulsion. Objection.

My brain says: What if you liked it? What if you wanted it? Why would you think that if there isn’t some truth to it?

The combination of my body feeling disgust while my brain questioned its reaction felt emotionally paralyzing with overwhelming fear. A shock surged through my body and my stomach dropped to the floor. I felt frozen in time. Two conflicting parts of my body should be operating in sync, but instead are now arguing.

Which one do I believe?

I know which one I wanted to believe, but OCD always makes a compelling argument, doesn’t it?

That’s the hook. That is the moment we are ensnared in the OCD cycle.

Everything I knew about my sexual likes and preferences vanished instantly. And everything I could or would want in my future was questionable. Was I who I was before and I’m just confused, or do I have to be somebody new now? Am I just transitioning from who I was to who I have to be? Is clinging to what I used to be living in denial even though I know it’s who I still want to be? How can I go from being one person before to an entirely different person now, or questioning who I am completely in one minute?

I wish I could go back. I wish I’d never had that image and thought. Did I cause the thought? Did I bring the thought on? Did I actually like it when I had it? NO! I felt disgusted? Or, did I? But, what if my brain is right and I wouldn’t have thought it if somewhere deep down I didn’t want it? How can I move forward and try to forget it knowing I even thought about it in the first place? How can I go on being who I was before after having that thought and image? Would I be lying now if I did? I want to go back to an hour ago when things made sense. I know deep down my life will never be the same.

The following day, I woke to the sun shining through the window on my face. A moment or two of normalcy ensued, maybe around two seconds…and then suddenly the image, the thoughts, and the questioning hit me square in the face. A painful, agonizing shudder surged throughout my body.

Oh no!…it’s still here!

This was my reality for the next six years. Day in and day out. Every morning waking and hoping for reprieve. Every day striving to be ‘good enough’ so perhaps I could undo something bad I had possibly done to cause this. Every minute searching for the solution to solve it or make it go away. And every day biding enough time hoping it will run its course and I would finally be able to live ‘normally’ again. Maybe Chrissie before the thought/image will come back. Maybe this is all just a fluke. Maybe one morning I will wake up and realize this was all just a bad dream.

But, that never happened.

It will not happen.

It cannot happen.

Because the deeper we get into compulsions, the deeper we dig into the doubt. Doubt that permeates every part of our world and our being. Doubt that envelops every physical, emotional, and even spiritual part of who we thought we knew.

One moment in one evening, that small seed of doubt exploded into a field of thorny weeds wrapping every inch of my body, strangling every ounce of hope, and cutting off all oxygen source to live life with any semblance of peace.

OCD’s menacing pattern was to let me believe for periods of time that I had won, I had figured it out, or I had conquered the doubt. And only then would it resurface with the deeper, more punishing destruction...the OCD haze. It trapped me behind blurred, thick glass and separated me from the world I knew. And as I watched life continue normally for everyone else, I sat behind this thick, blurry barrier, writhing with grief and loss, desperate to feel normal again, aching to feel any relief or hope things would someday get better. I didn’t just live in this haze, I fought to breathe in it. I tried everything to make it stop, until it nearly broke me. And when I had broken to the lowest, darkest point, it finally led me to my diagnosis. And finally led me to treatment.

I was diagnosed and treated for OCD after a suicide attempt and hospitalization. I was able to experience effective treatment in the form of Exposure Response Prevention (ERP) therapy. And while I was able to experience relief from sexual intrusive thoughts by utilizing the skills I learned from ERP, in my journey to recovery, I inevitably realized OCD treatment is not a cure. Just because we conquer one theme does not mean we will not be chopped down at the knees by another. This may feel overwhelming and hopeless at first, but as you practice skills when experiencing different themes, you realize you can have power and control over recognizing OCD’s patterns and anticipating lapses and symptoms. OCD does not go away completely, but we can get very good at recognizing it and tackling it before it causes debilitating suffering.

This is why it’s important to understand the ‘in the moment’ feelings of the trigger and the haze. The shock and doom may hijack us and OCD’s ability to shape-shift may manipulate us into believing it ‘can’t be OCD this time’. Why is that? Because OCD feels so damn real. Every time. We have to learn to recognize what the ‘hijacked moment’ feels like and trust our previous experiences when it happens enough to label it as OCD. Not compulsively, but assuredly.

I recognize this feeling of being hijacked. I feel the surge of fear, the stomach drop, and the feeling of doom and despair. The feeling of ‘life is over now’ is familiar. I feel scared this is real, but I can safely assume because I’ve been here before with OCD, that it is OCD. Now, I can take action, even if it feels like it’s not OCD and it’s real this time.

Relapse has been a valuable teacher in guiding my recognition of OCD when it shape-shifts to trigger engagement. I want to share with you a few practical tips that have helped me when I become engulfed in the haze and doom.

1. Calm my body down: After I push through the initial shock of the trigger, my first task is to calm down my body to behaviorally signal to my central nervous system that we are not in physical danger.

What do I do? I orient to a safe space. I slowly deep breathe from my lower belly. I ground my senses to the present by activating sight (find 5 things that are red), touch (find something rough I can rub on my fingertips), or smell (inhale a strong odor like perfume or garlic).

2. Focus on compulsions: While I may ‘doubt’ it’s OCD because it feels so real, one thing I know for certain is that compulsions are always present in this situation.

How do I do this? I observe what my mind is doing. Is it ruminating? Check. Is it mentally reviewing? Check. Am I reaching for Google? Check. Because these behaviors are happening, I can ‘safely’ assume it’s OCD - without reassuring myself.

3. Identify the emotional response: My emotional response is typically always the same. Exacerbated fear, panic, doom, despair, shame, and guilt. While the pull of these emotions is very hard to resist believing, I identify they are there, just as I did with the compulsions.

How do I do this? Do they feel the same as before? Yes. Are they beckoning me to do compulsions? Yes. Are they threatening me that life will never be the same or ever be good again? Yes. Because these are happening and I recognize their role in tempting me to engage with compulsions, I can ‘safely’ assume it’s OCD - without reassuring myself.

4. Make a plan: I’m not escaping these feelings, so it’s time to make a plan and keep doing life as normal as possible. I double down on my routine for the day. Whatever was planned, I follow through knowing it may be tough.

How do I do this? Plan for hourly check in’s to calm my body down (see #1) and monitor the amount of compulsions I’m performing. If I can reduce them? Great. If I cannot? I’m not shaming myself, I’m just continuing to monitor and try my best. I set a time for ERP practice a few hours after the trigger. I don’t want to engage in ERP right after the trigger, I want to wait until I have space between being in shock and doom and being able to have agency and autonomy in my power over the OCD.

5. Actively practice self-compassion: This is the hardest. My brain wants to blame me, shame me, and tell me that it’s all my fault! So, I make space for deep breathing, calming my body, and assuring with my mind and body that we are okay. I do not talk to myself like I’m in a battle. I need to show my brain we are not in danger, not put armor on to make it feel like it needs to fight harder. These days and the days after the trigger, it’s my focus to be gentle and loving to myself, practicing intentional self-care, and assuring myself that while it may take a few days to work through this, we have done it before and we will do it again.

Even when I use these strategies, it doesn’t always feel like they’re “working” right away. That’s the trap OCD sets: it convinces us that peace has to feel instant to be real. But what I’ve learned is healing often looks like staying rooted while the storm rages, and many times that means committing to continuing life as usual while letting the doubt scream. Each time I choose to respond differently, I’m reminding my nervous system that I’m not who I used to be, and I can continue to learn and grow stronger and wiser living alongside OCD. Essentially, I continue to build and foster self-trust, one trigger at a time.

If you’ve ever felt hijacked by a single thought—frozen, uncertain, and unable to come back to yourself—you’re not alone. That moment doesn’t define you. And there are ways through it, even when it feels impossible.

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I hope this blog helps you feel less alone, more seen in what you experience, and more confident that you can learn to manage this and live the life you deserve without suffering. In my next post, I’ll dive into the excuses OCD tempts us with to lure us into engagement and keeping us committed to the excruciating cycle. Until then, I hope this helps you wherever you are in your journey of recovery.

If this spoke to you…even a little…you’re not alone.

I write about OCD, recovery, and the hard emotional stuff you don’t always hear talked about.

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www.chrissiehodgescommunity.com