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  • Writer's pictureThe OCD Catholic

A peek into my mind: during an OCD Attack

I don't know about you, but my mental health has been struggling lately. I feel bad all the time. Right now is a very transitional time in my life, and I HATE change. It feels like too much. Last week I had one of the worst OCD-induced panic attacks I have ever had. The stress had bottled up to too much, and then the bottle broke. So while I was having this attack, I decided to write down my thoughts and share them with you. My mission in this space is never to gain attention for myself, or sympathy and pity from you, my readers, but rather to share my experiences of battling this disease with you in the hopes that it will help you or someone you know.

So here we go. The following are my thoughts during an OCD-induced panic attack.


My mind is racing and yet as slow as jello. I feel like there are a billion thoughts in my mind, but at the same time only one thought. I’m waiting for this attack to pass. Breathing is hard. I have to remember to do it. I’m rocking back and forth, which for me is a really violent OCD attack symptom. I want my therapist. I want my priest. I feel like I’m possessed by a demon. I need a hug but do not want to be touched. I need to do a compulsion to get rid of this obsession. But I can’t because that would be a sin. Even though I know it wouldn’t. Tears start pooling in my eyes. I feel like an elephant is on my chest. I’m shaking my legs like crazy to try and get some of the stress out. I want to be held and cuddled and protected, but left alone. The voices from my podcast aren’t helping but I can’t turn it off. I have to listen. How am I going to get through this? I won’t be able to finish my tasks for today. I want to hit and throw things. I want to scream and cry. Curl up in a ball and die. I want to cry, but can’t. Crying won’t help. Hitting the keys on the keyboard hard as I type this isn’t getting enough stress out. DAMN IT. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Don’t give in. But that’s all I want, I NEED to. DAMN IT! Why is my chest so tight? Podcast is off. It helps a little to be in silence. Breathe breathe breathe breathe breathe. I’m a failure. A fake. No one loves me. I’m abandoned and alone. All alone. This is what demon possession must be like. If I could only get my legs to shake faster, that would help. Breathe. Remember to breathe. Do I tell anyone? Why? They can’t help, they won’t get it. They won’t know that you actually deserve this, you brought this on yourself. Sinner. My breath is shaky and shallow. It’s hard to remember to breathe. Breathe. In, out. I can’t destroy anything, even though that’s all I want to do is smash something.

Just got a text. There go the waterworks. This is ugly crying at its finest. Breathe. Dog is barking. Shut up. DAMN IT I JUST WANT TO HIT SOMETHING!

Now I have a headache. Because this wasn’t enough. I don’t want to move, but the tissues are by my bed, and six feet away is too far. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Rock back and forth. Do I text back? I so desperately need someone right now, but also need to be alone. I try and scream, but only get out a little squeak. Rock back and forth. This is ugly. I haven’t had a low this low in so long. DAMN IT. I was doing so good. Why isn’t my medication helping? Or is it, and this is what having the edge taken off looks like?

I can’t even wipe my tears away. It’s too much. If I don’t keep my hands on the keyboard and moving, then I will probably just slide onto the floor. Have to stay still.

My God, my God, why have You abandoned me? I am alone. So so so so alone. I want my boyfriend. But he can’t see me like this.

Am I going to die today? I might. That’s what this feels like. But I can’t go to Hell. I can’t I can’t I can’t. I want my therapist. I’m going to die today. That’s what’s going to happen. Lord, please just take me. I can’t do this anymore. But I’m scared of dying.

Need a tissue. Going to get one. 1, 2, 3. Back. Tissue box in hand. Blow your nose, that’s better. Okay now you’re a little calmer. Breathe. I want my boyfriend. There’s his shirt he gave me that smells like him. It’s soft. And it helps. It’s starting to lose its smell. Breathe deep. Type. That’s better. This is helping.

Still shaky breathing. That’s how I know it’s bad. Need to be held. Need cuddles. Breathe deep.

Keep breathing. Phone call. Unknown caller. Go away. Ringing stops.




Did I work myself into this state or was this just a long time coming. Maybe a little of both, but that’s not important. I’m alive. I survived. The elephant on my chest only has 2 or 3 feet on me now. I feel a little freer.





Breathe. That’s what’s important now. Remember to breathe. Call my boyfriend. He’ll help calm me down more.



Breathe. Keep breathing. Breathe. There is hope. Breathe. Every attack ends. Breathe. This one ended.

Breathe. My throat still feels a little tight, but it’s been like that all day kind of.



Breathe. You are loved. There is hope.

I just laughed. It’s a roller coaster. It’ll get better. It’s already a little better. Praise God.

Keep breathing.


What you just read in a few minutes was typed over the course of 45 minutes to an hour. Reading it makes me anxious again, but I feel the need to share with you what OCD looks like at some of the lowest of the low points. As I am typing this out, I keep looking at the "Publish" button and thinking about what might happen when this goes out to the world. This feels so vulnerable. But again, I feel strongly about providing honest information to you all about what I go through in struggling with OCD. Otherwise, what is the point?

So, here goes nothing. Jesus, I trust in You.

I am praying for all of you.

St. Therese, pray for us.

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Apr 12, 2023

Wow! Thanks for sharing that! I can relate to much of it! I struggle mostly alone everyday with OCD and I have so much irritability! It’s a relief just having a place to go to and see that I’m not alone in this! God bless you!


Feb 27, 2023

Thank you so much for being so brave in sharing this! I know what this struggle is like and it’s helpful to actually read it playing out. I’m really grateful that someone is writing about OCD from a Catholic perspective.

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