Me, the devil and ROCD

An honest account of being in a relationship when you have relationship-focused OCD

Aug 31, 2025

Heart balloon by June Design on Canva, text added by me

If you are a subscriber to Planet Sensitive, you probably know by now that I suffer from OCD and that I have done since I was diagnosed at 11 years old. If you are new here, welcome! I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Shocker! This isn’t the defining thing about me - as much as OCD would like to think otherwise - but it is something I write about a lot.

It’s the equivalent of saying, “hi, welcome to my family! This is my mum, my dad, my brother and my cat”, and just not acknowledging the 10-foot-tall furry beast in the corner, who is drooling from the mouth. I have to talk about it. I have other diagnoses that trouble me, but none such as OCD. I made a promise to myself as a young, scared girl to write about the terrifying, unknown thing that happened to me. Now I know its name, its shape, its form; so I write about it all the time.

I know that OCD will take absolutely anything you hold dear - if you let it.

Over the years, I have been the victim of just about any and all types of OCD. The infographic below shows just some of the subtypes of the disease. I promise you now, I have had phases with nearly all the themes on here. Even the scary, shameful ones. Crying whilst desperately Googling your thoughts is the only thing that remains constant.

Those of you who don’t have OCD may think, “If you know the OCD latches onto the different themes, isn’t it easier to detach yourself from the thoughts?” It’s a great question and a fair one to ask. The truth is, OCD will tell you that this topic is the most important one yet. Nothing has ever been as bad as this current theme, and nothing has ever been as true. For all the writerly desire in the world, I can’t put it poetically.

An incredible graphic from ‘Health and Healing Therapy’ depicting SOME of the many OCD subtypes.

Just so we’re clear: I will never write scientifically about the hows or whys of OCD. I leave that to the experts. I simply write about my experiences with the disorder, and will sprinkle in quotes and pictures from those said experts. My eternal thanks to those who research and advocate for OCD – you saved my life, and I know that your work will continue to aid and empower others.

Allow me to introduce you to my arch nemesis, a.k.a the devil, a.k.a ROCD/Relationship-focused OCD. To give a brief explanation:

“Relationship OCD (ROCD) is a subtype of obsessive-compulsive disorder where a person experiences intrusive doubts and fears about their romantic relationship—and sometimes platonic ones, too. These unwanted thoughts often focus on questions like, “Do I really love my partner?” or “Is this the right relationship for me?”
ROCD isn’t simply about being unsure. It’s a clinically recognized pattern of obsessive thoughts and compulsive behaviors that can cause intense distress.”
(Courtesy of the NOCD website)

Although this is a brilliant definition, ROCD is so much more than this. I could insert useful quotes for days; instead, I have listed some personal favourite resources at the bottom of this blog post that help to describe ROCD in its entirety. These are the resources that helped me realise that there was potentially something deeper going on, rather than just having doubts about my relationship. I encourage you to read them if any part of this article resonates with you.

For me, ROCD manifested just three months into my first (and, thankfully, current) relationship. I was a final-year university student, and many other personal matters were going on behind the scenes. I had met my boyfriend over the summer, and was experiencing the romantic dream that little Emma used to dream about. It was glorious, until I went back to university. First, it started with the numbness. I didn’t feel anything towards my partner, and couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried. This was extremely distressing. I started confiding in a couple of friends, who quite rationally told me that if I had no feelings towards him, then breaking up was the most suitable option. It was kind to him. We could both start moving on.

Hearing that would make me want to vomit. I wouldn’t eat, I was ill, and I was perpetually exhausted. Every day was a battle, from start to finish. If it wasn’t my friends telling me to end things, it was social media. Now, dear reader, I am aware that I am currently writing on a social media platform. But let me tell you, I despise a lot of what social media stands for. Largely because it easily triggers OCD themes (do the algorithm and my intrusive thoughts team up without my knowing?), but also because it is a cesspit of comparison. I would look at other relationships and envy how happy they were, how in love they seemed. TikTok was the worst.

If they wanted to, they would. (My hatred for this phrase is worthy of a whole different article.)

Girl, life is short. Dump his ass.

All the things my boyfriend does for me without me asking.

Dating icks.

Reasons I dumped my ex.

I’m not saying we shouldn’t celebrate good relationships, because we absolutely should! But, Jesus wept. Can a woman not decompress while watching dogs inhaling hamburgers instead of having a panic attack? The thing is, I don’t blame people for posting this kind of content. It gets views. However, I hate the narrative that is inevitably perpetuated. Essentially, your partner should be a superhuman, mind-reading expert who never does anything wrong. Sounds fun, doesn’t it? But also, that behaviour doesn’t apply to you, the TikTok viewer. You are perfect and make no mistakes.

It’s exhausting just writing about it. If there is one thing I could beg of you to take away from this post, it is that it is crucial to form your own opinions about your own relationship, away from the prying eyes and scabby hands of social media.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have this insight at the time. So, I tried to break up with my boyfriend. This is a horrific memory, so I will cover it as briefly as possible. Once I had made the decision to break up with him (helped along by the opinions of anyone and everyone who would listen), I called him. He promptly drove nearly one hundred miles to me. In between sobs, I broke up with him. It all just felt so wrong, but being my first and only relationship, I had nothing to which I could compare this experience.

Enter, stage left: cold, lemony noodles. At one point, we both decided we needed to try to eat something. We shared the previous night’s noodle leftovers. I can remember how they taste. I can still recall the way they clumped together as I tried to spear some out of the tub. The unbearable intimacy of his helping me and feeding me a forkful. Throughout this, some salient ray of rationale peeked through the hurricane of OCD. I suggested we go on a break instead, and he agreed. He stayed the night, and I cried plenty more times. In the morning, he left. It was the worst being left in all the history of being lefts.

Later on, my beautiful, incredible mother made the drive to visit and comfort me.

We had allowed a two-week break. During this time, I threw myself into research like never before. By this point, I had already come across the phenomenal Awaken into Love. I had subscribed to their membership to access their resources, which kept me sane in the early days. I cannot recommend them enough, and I will support Kiyomi LaFleur (the founder and creator of Awaken into Love) in any endeavour she embarks upon.

Most crucially, I came across a therapist who specialised in ROCD. This was revelatory. She single-handedly gave me the tools and advice that saved my relationship. Self-funding private therapy as a working, final year university student was tough, but I made it work out of sheer desperation. For the first time, I was telling her thoughts that made me break out into cold sweats, but she would simply nod sagely and smile.

She taught me many valuable lessons and guided me out of the absolute darkness in which I was stuck. Most of all, she taught me that I wasn’t alone. Her entire career was and is formed by people like me. I wasn’t a freak; I was human. I didn’t not love my boyfriend; my anxiety was just so high that there was no room for any feeling but numbness.

I shared so many intrusive thoughts with her. Some, I won’t write on here, because they are just too personal. I feel it is important I list a few, though, in case you find yourself recognising these words cropping up in your own mind:

What if I don’t love him anymore?
Nitpicking any perceived ‘flaw’ of your partner’s
I can’t feel anything for him, so I must not love him
We’re just not right for each other
What if he’s cheating on me?
What if I somehow cheated on him without me realising?
If it were the right relationship, we wouldn’t have so many ‘issues’

And on it goes.

My partner on one of the holidays the ROCD was reluctant to let me go on - I did it anyway and it was wonderful.

Ultimately, this article is a ‘success story’. A happy ending, if you will. Through a combination of my hard graft in therapy and a wonderful partner, we recently celebrated our three-year anniversary. I managed to truly enjoy myself. If ROCD is a wolf, special occasions are the full moon, which sends it howling. That day, I managed to keep the wolf at bay.

I am acutely aware that some relationships aren’t right for the individual and come coupled with ROCD thoughts. The lack of uncertainty makes everything so very challenging. In times like this, I encourage therapy as much as possible. I know it’s not an affordable privilege for everyone, so hopefully, some of the resources I have linked can help in the meantime.

Only recently have I been able to truly commit to long-term plans with my partner without fear taking over. I can book a holiday a year in advance and not privately meltdown about us ‘inevitably breaking up’.

Yes, there is always fear, but there is always love too. I have been lucky beyond belief with my boyfriend; he has never given up on me and has shown me nothing but compassion. On the days when I have sobbed into his arms, saying how I just can’t do this anymore, the thoughts are just too loud, he has held me and told me how he believes in me more than ever. I would ask “why? how?” through my snot, and he would reply saying that I beat OCD every single time, and so why should it be different this time? In hindsight, this is the kind of love of which my younger self dreamed. The steady, kind and patient love that leaves me feeling safe.

Don’t get me wrong, I have had my fair share of ROCD relapses. Some days I can hardly move for the weight of the thoughts, but I do now have a bit of vital knowledge on my side. It’ll pass. It all passes so long as you don’t engage with the thought. However, I know more than anyone that this is easier said than done.

Besides, who knows, my relationship could turn out not to be right in the end. It’s an awful and uncomfortable thought, but it is one I must sit with. I want to grow old and grey with my partner, but I have to allow the uncertainty in. Even if it is ten feet tall and dribbles everywhere.

My heart goes out to anyone who experiences ROCD; it truly is a special kind of hell. To meet someone so precious to you, but your brain seemingly aims to take away this joy. It’s not fair - you’re allowed to be royally pissed off. Get therapeutic help if you can. Chat to others who understand how OCD works. Keep talking about it and get the word out there.

It is a hard slog, but getting to be with my person is not only my greatest joy, but also the ultimate reward in itself.

All my love,

Emma

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