Intrusive thoughts can be terrifying—especially when they attack the things we value most. But what happens when those thoughts feel so taboo, so disturbing, that speaking them out loud seems impossible? For many people with OCD, themes like harm OCD and pedophilia OCD can feel like an isolating prison, reinforcing the fear that they’re broken or beyond help.
Chrissie Hodges, a mental health advocate, peer support specialist, and founder of OCD Gamechangers, a nonprofit focused on building community for people with OCD through events, knows this struggle firsthand. She has spent years breaking the stigma surrounding OCD, particularly the darker, more misunderstood themes that many are too afraid to talk about. Through her advocacy, her book Pure OCD: The Invisible Side of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, and her peer support work, Chrissie gives tortured people hope.
In this conversation, Chrissie opens up about her personal journey, the torment of intrusive thoughts, and why speaking about taboo themes is essential for breaking the cycle of shame.
When did intrusive thoughts first start for you, and how did they affect your early life?
“I’ve had OCD for 40 years. It started when I was eight years old, and it completely took over my world. I grew up in a really religious household. My dad was a Southern minister. And I had all these false beliefs about what made a good or bad person—what I was putting into my mind, whether I was going to be punished by God, or if I was going to be possessed by the devil. Religious scrupulosity was the driving force of my everyday life. I lived with this constant fear that I was doing something wrong, that I wasn’t good enough, and that I was going to suffer eternally because of it.”
I had a fear of vomiting that consumed me, and then came the compulsions—needing to pray, needing to prove to God that I was a good person so that He would take this suffering away. I did not live in a household where I felt like I could express what was happening. Either I wouldn’t be believed, or I’d be told it wasn’t real. So I kept it all inside. Every single day was a fight to survive until the next day, hoping it would just go away. But it didn’t. I don’t even remember having a childhood or an adolescence. When I look back, I just think about what was taken from me.”
Taboo intrusive thoughts can feel unbearable—can you share some of what you experienced?
“My first taboo intrusive thoughts were about bestiality. Then came thoughts of harm toward my pets. I’ve also had pedophilia OCD, incest intrusive thoughts…you name it.
I had sexual intrusive thoughts about my cat when I was younger, which was horrifying. I loved my cat, and I knew I’d never do anything to hurt her, but suddenly, there was this need to get her as far away from me as possible. I was scared to pet her. Every time I got near her, I felt a groinal response, which only made me more terrified.
I’ve also had incestuous intrusive thoughts since day one. A lot of them come in the form of dreams, which makes them feel even more real. Before I knew what OCD was, I convinced myself that because I was having these dreams, they must mean something about me. I thought my unconscious mind was trying to reveal my ‘true self.’ That’s the nightmare of OCD—it convinces you that the things you fear most say something about who you really are.
The groinal responses were one of the hardest parts. No one tells you that OCD can cause physical sensations, so when you feel something in your body, it’s like ‘Oh my god, does this mean I actually want this?’ That’s the cycle OCD traps you in—it preys on what you care about most.”
Did the fear of judgment stop you from talking about your intrusive thoughts?
As I mentioned, I lived in a household where I knew, even at a young age, that I couldn’t express my thoughts to my parents. And so day in and day out, while creating this persona that everything was fine, I was suffering 24/7. I assumed that my thoughts meant something about me, that I had done something terrible. And I carried that fear alone for years. I look back and I just think about what was taken from me. Every day was kind of a fight until the next day, hoping that this would go away. But it didn’t.”
I lived with this belief that I was the only person in the world who had thoughts like this. That I was a monster, that something was deeply wrong with me. And when you feel that way, there’s nowhere to turn. Who do you talk to? Who could possibly understand? But when I found out that there was a name for this, that there was a community of people who had been through the exact same thing, it was like a weight lifted off me. I wasn’t alone anymore.
One thing that really helped me, and continues to help me is peer support. I started doing peer support in my late 30s, many years after my Exposure and Response Prevention (ERP) journey at 21. I met people besides my therapist who had the same exact thoughts I did. And it was the first time I thought, ‘Wait, if they have these thoughts and I don’t think they’re bad people, why can’t I have that same compassion for myself?’ That was a turning point for me. Meeting others, hearing their stories, and seeing that they were normal, kind, everyday people—that was what finally convinced me that OCD was the problem, not me.”
Why do you think intrusive thoughts about taboo subjects like harm OCD and pedophilia OCD feel so uniquely isolating?
“The shame is overwhelming. You already feel like a monster, and then you hear the words—pedophilia, incest, bestiality—and they are so inflammatory (and illegal). Society hears them and reacts with disgust, so if you’re someone suffering from these thoughts, what do you do? You stay silent.
We are taught from day one that things like pedophilia are wrong—and they are! But that’s what makes taboo OCD themes so devastating. The thoughts completely contradict everything you stand for. The more you try to prove to yourself that you’re not a horrible person, the deeper you get stuck in the OCD cycle.
When OCD latches onto these taboo themes, it convinces you that you must be the exception to the general public and are ‘weird’ or ‘bad.’ I now run POCD support groups, and they always fill up. Because when people meet others who have the same thoughts, it’s like, ‘Oh my God, I’m not alone. This is actually a thing.’ That’s why community is so important. It’s what breaks the cycle of shame.”
How does shame keep people trapped in OCD, especially with taboo thoughts?
“Shame has been my constant companion since day one. Especially with taboo intrusive thoughts, there’s this belief that ‘If I were a good person, I wouldn’t have these thoughts.’ That’s what keeps people trapped.
For me, the shame is in so many layers. I’d ask myself, ‘Why am I the only one who has thoughts like this?’ I’d try to prove to myself that I wasn’t bad, but nothing ever felt convincing enough. When you have incestuous intrusive thoughts, for example, you feel like you can’t even talk to your own family about them. Your support system is supposed to be the people closest to you, but now OCD is telling you that you’re a danger to them. It isolates you completely.”
When you finally learned what OCD was, how did it change the way you saw what you were going through?
“When I was 20, I had a tragic incident happen in my family where someone died, and I just broke. But silence was my vow to myself. I didn’t tell anybody, and I attempted suicide at 20. I was hospitalized, and luckily, in 1997, in a random mental health lock facility in Atlanta, Georgia, they were like, ‘We think this is OCD.’ But they were baffled too. They had never seen anything like it, which was not helpful. But I got on medication. I was lucky that medication probably reduced my symptoms by 90%, 95%.”
It was like a weight lifted off me. For the first time, I realized I wasn’t crazy. But at the same time, OCD does what OCD does—it convinced me that I must be the exception. That treatment would work for everyone but me. That’s what kept me trapped for so long, avoiding getting the help I deserved.
A year later, I got off the medication because of the side effects. I just didn’t want to be on it, and I relapsed severely. That’s when I was lucky, and through AOL dial-up, I found Dr. Steven Phillipson. He was the only person I’d ever seen writing about what we call Pure OCD, and he had article after article about people who experienced all the taboo intrusive thoughts—religious scrupulosity, sexual orientation OCD. And I was like, ‘Oh my God, this is a real thing.’
The peer support groups I started over ten years after this helped solidify the fact that I wasn’t alone and that there were real people going through the same things I was. And while I wasn’t happy that they were also struggling, it was nice to be surrounded by people who really understood what I was going through.”
What was it like for you when you finally got treatment for OCD?
“I started ERP therapy at 21 with Dr. Phillipson. When you go through therapy the first time, it’s like white-knuckling. I just wanted to get better. I was desperate. I remember thinking, ‘Please let me get better.’ And then after therapy, you get better, and for a significant amount of time, you forget just how bad it can get. You forget how hard it is to get better because you have to take the risk. You have to take the risk in doing the therapy to get better.
For someone who is nervous to try therapy because it’s scary to talk about these really dark things—like, I get it. It’s terrifying. But even though there’s no technical cure for OCD, there are tools that can help you deal with your intrusive thoughts, and things can get better. And I know that’s hard to hear when you’re in the middle of it, but I promise, treatment is worth it. ERP helped me take my life back. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but also the most important.”