Mental illness is no fun to go through. It can feel like an uphill battle where every step forward comes with three steps back. Especially when you start feeling like no one understands you, or worse, you begin worrying about what people might think if you open up. Truthfully, some people might judge, and that’s okay—because at the end of the day, they have to live with that negativity, not you. There’s so much freedom in realizing their opinions don’t define you. One thing to find solace in, though, is this simple truth: YOU ARE NOT ALONE.
This is why I’m writing this post. I want to show that more people sharing their struggles—and their triumphs—can truly help others who may be lost in a dark spot. Part of my own healing process was reading firsthand accounts of others with OCD, learning how they coped, and seeing the concrete ways they managed to overcome their challenges. Hearing them say, “I’ve been there, too,” or “I understand what you’re feeling,” gave me a kind of hope that’s hard to describe. It was like suddenly seeing a light at the end of the tunnel when, before, I hadn’t even realized there was a way out. Knowing others had fought back and won gave me the courage to think, “Maybe I can do it, too.”
Of course, I totally understand having reservations about sharing your mental health journey. I’ll be the first to admit that my OCD is, to put it lightly, very messed up. There were so many intrusive thoughts and obsessions that I believed would completely change how people saw me if I ever spoke them out loud. That fear kept me silent for a long time. When I started my Substack, one of the biggest worries in the back of my mind was: Will people still like me if they know how extreme my obsessions are? I was afraid of rejection, of judgment, of being labeled as “too broken.”
But once I got over that initial hurdle—once I embraced the fact that OCD is a part of me, and it doesn’t define my entire worth as a person—I started to conquer that fear. I shifted my mindset from How will people judge me? to How can I be of service to others who feel just as lost as I once did? That was a game-changer. I realized that if my words could comfort even one person, if my story could be that tiny glimmer of hope during someone else’s darkest night, then sharing was worth it a thousand times over.
Reflecting on my own journey, I remember the darkest times when I felt completely hopeless—like there was no way out of the labyrinth my mind had created. I distinctly recall searching online for any personal stories or blog posts about OCD, hunting for proof that I wasn’t uniquely doomed. Every time I read about someone else who managed to reclaim their life, it was as if they were shining a flashlight into the darkness so I could see a little better. Even a sliver of hope made a massive difference.
If you find yourself hesitating to open up—maybe you don’t want to burden anyone with your struggles, or maybe you’re afraid of those inevitable judgments—please remember you don’t have to share every detail if you’re not ready. The most important step is acknowledging that you have a right to feel what you feel, and you deserve support. Whether that means talking to a close friend, writing about it in a private journal, seeking therapy, or just reading other people’s experiences, it all counts. You get to decide your comfort level, and no one else can take that power away from you.
Ultimately, mental illness doesn’t have to be a life sentence of isolation. By putting yourself out there in any capacity—by saying “I’m hurting” or “I’m healing”—you become both vulnerable and powerful at the same time. You give a voice to what so many others experience but can’t articulate. You remind each person who reads your story that none of us are truly walking this path alone.
So here I am, sharing my own messed-up, complicated, and very real experience with OCD, and I’m doing it because I want you to know there is hope. There is life beyond the darkest valleys of mental illness. It might not be easy, and the journey isn’t linear, but it’s possible. And every bit of progress you make—every victory, no matter how small—helps someone else see that they can keep going, too.
That’s why I’ll keep writing, and that’s why I’ll keep telling my story. If it connects with even one person, helps them feel seen or understood, then all of my vulnerability is completely worth it. I hope you carry this message close: You are not alone. You never have to be. And in sharing our stories—in those brave moments of honesty—we realize just how interconnected we all are, and how much strength we can offer each other when we decide to open up.