We’re incredibly proud of the therapists in the NOCD network. While all of them are trained in delivering evidence-based treatment for obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), many have overcome OCD and other mental health issues themselves. We want you to get to know some of the clinicians who have dedicated their lives to helping people end the struggle.
There was no shortage of mental health struggles in my family growing up. That definitely set the stage for me to make therapy my lifelong passion. From an early age, I knew I wanted to help people.
It all started with my dad. He was a Marine and we have a really close relationship. When I found out he had bipolar disorder, he told me what it was like—and that was so interesting to me. When bipolar people are on medication, they feel great. And once they start feeling great, they often think, Okay, I don’t need the meds anymore and they go off them again. It becomes an ongoing cycle.
When I became a therapist, my dad’s condition inspired me to initially work with bipolar disorder because it really helped me connect with my patients on a different level. I’m still helping my dad out today. I can tell when he’s not on his medication. And he’ll listen to me when I ask him to go back on, and his mental health has been better because of that.
Then there was my brother. I have three of them; they’re also Marines. I noticed there was something off with one of my brothers because he kept going back and forth between my place and my mom’s place. He would walk in, stay for a few minutes, and then he was gone. I ended up pushing him to get help and he was eventually diagnosed with schizophrenia. He is on medication now and is doing well.
A watershed moment
It wasn’t until I went through the extensive obsessive-compulsive (OCD) training program at NOCD that I realized: Oh my goodness—that’s my mom. Especially when I learned about religious OCD.
My mom was extremely devout, and I now believe it was because she was dealing with intrusive thoughts or felt like she needed to do, or not do, certain things because they were a sin. Sin was a big thing. The fear is that you must be careful about what you do spiritually because if you’re not, you’re going to go to hell.
My mom passed away a few years ago, and I wish I had known what she was going through then because it would have changed a lot of things for us. I could have connected with her in a better way. We were close, but I felt like the OCD put distance between her relationships. If we had understood, everything would have just made more sense. We would have known what we were dealing with. And my mom could have gotten help.
My own journey with OCD
Around that time, I realized I suffered from religious OCD too. I remember when I was little I would obsess about whether I was doing the right thing. “Mom, am I safe? How does God know I’m doing good things? At what age am I accountable for my sins?” I would have to pray every night—that was my compulsion. And if I missed a night, my OCD told me, “You’re a bad Christian, Audrey.” And I was a little girl thinking this. It felt like immense pressure.
My mom saw the world this way and it filtered down to me. If you miss one day of church, it’s bad. You’re sinning. We were going to church pretty much the whole week—missing a service wasn’t an option. It got more intense throughout my childhood. We used to celebrate Halloween. Then we couldn’t celebrate Halloween anymore. Then we couldn’t watch scary movies because they weren’t good either.
When I first started to really get into understanding OCD, I realized that more recently, I had been experiencing relationship OCD. I would be talking to my husband and I would ask him something, and he would say, “Audrey, you’re asking me the same question over and over, but in different ways.” It was because I was looking for some magic answer that I could never find—asking for reassurance was my compulsion. I was looking for him to say the right thing, and he never did. And I was left unsatisfied.
To help heal, I’ve been using exposure and response prevention (ERP). It’s the most effective, science-based approach for treating OCD. I learned to do ERP therapy during my NOCD training, and now I use it in my own life. It has taught me to lean into my discomfort and uncertainty, rather than always reaching out for more and more reassurance, whether it’s from my husband or someone else.
Just like the people I work with as a therapist, I get intense rushes of anxiety and distress sometimes. And then I feel the intense need to clean something or do something to distract myself from it. But with ERP, I learned to just sit there with it, and I can actually feel it just dissipate. Knowing that has really helped me in my sessions with members. I can honestly tell them that the distress will pass—it might not feel like it at the moment, but your feelings will pass.
I always disclose my own experience with OCD to any therapy member I begin working with. Knowing first-hand what it feels like, I can relate on a more personal level. If they’re talking about something, I can say “Thanks for sharing that. I went through this myself just yesterday. It can feel really intense. And this is how I was able to sit with it instead of allowing it to control me.” I can show them that even though I’m their therapist, I have these experiences as well—I can be with them on this journey. And they feel heard and validated. They find comfort in the fact that I truly understand them and what they’re going through.
I go into every session present with that person in that moment. I feel like I’m just walking alongside them. I let them lead where things go. I am good at reading them, picking up on things. My family experiences with mental health have helped me understand it in others. And my own struggles with OCD have helped me be more empathetic. I get what it all feels like, because I’ve dealt with it too.