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“I’m So OCD…” — Why This Phrase Deserves a Second Thought
- Kelly Rowe
- Oct 13
- 4 min read
On this OCD Awareness Week (12-18 October), I’ve been reflecting on how often I hear the phrase “I’m so OCD.” It’s said lightly — a throwaway comment about straightening cushions, keeping a tidy desk, or liking things in a certain order. I’ve probably said similar things myself in the past, long before I really understood what OCD is.
But the more I’ve learned, the more I realise how easily we blur the line between everyday quirks and a deeply challenging mental health condition.
The Comfort of Small Rituals
We all have little patterns or rituals that help us feel grounded. For some, it’s checking the front door twice before bed — that reassuring click confirming safety. For others, it’s laying things out neatly for the next day — a small act of preparedness that keeps anxiety in check.
For me, when I’m feeling tense, I sometimes press each fingernail down one after another, mirroring the motion across both hands. It’s almost rhythmic — a tiny act that gives me a sense of calm and order when my thoughts are running faster than I’d like.
We all have these coping mechanisms. They’re human, they’re comforting, and they help us feel in control. But they’re not OCD.
The Reality Beneath the Acronym
Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD) isn’t about neatness or orderliness — at least, not in the casual sense. It’s a condition marked by intrusive, unwanted thoughts (obsessions) that create extreme anxiety, and repetitive behaviours or mental rituals (compulsions) carried out to try to relieve that distress.
The difference between a harmless habit and OCD is the level of distress, fear, and loss of choice involved. Someone with OCD might feel a terrifying sense that if they don’t perform a certain action — washing, checking, counting, repeating — something awful could happen. It’s not soothing; it’s tormenting. Relief lasts only moments before the anxiety returns, demanding the ritual again.
In the UK, it’s estimated that around 750,000 people live with OCD [1] — roughly 1 in 100 of us — though experts believe the real figure is likely higher. For many, it’s a silent, unseen struggle that can dominate hours of each day.
The Human Impact
In my counselling work, I’ve seen how living with obsessive or intrusive thoughts can drain a person’s energy, confidence, and sense of self. It can shrink a life down to routines that feel impossible to break, while shame or misunderstanding keeps people quiet.
One of the hardest parts is how hidden it can be. From the outside, someone might appear calm and organised — maybe even “together.” Inside, they could be locked in a mental tug of war, replaying thoughts, checking, seeking certainty that never quite comes.
And when the world uses “OCD” as a light-hearted adjective, it can make that hidden battle feel even lonelier. People may hesitate to reach out for fear of not being taken seriously — that others might say, “Oh, we’re all a bit like that.” But for someone with OCD, it isn’t “a bit.” It’s consuming.
Finding Relief and Hope
While I’m not trained in specialist OCD treatments such as CBT or ERP, there is a wealth of evidence supporting their effectiveness, and they are widely offered through NHS and specialist services.[2] Alongside these structured approaches, other therapies — including person-centred counselling — can play a valuable role in helping someone explore the emotional impact of OCD, the burden it brings, and the human need for understanding and self-compassion that often sits beneath the symptoms.
When someone finally names what’s happening — the intrusive thoughts, the exhausting rituals, the guilt that follows — the shame can ease.Therapy of any kind can be a space to explore that hope: to reconnect with the parts of life that OCD has crowded out, to rebuild self-trust, to rediscover calm that isn’t bound to ritual.
Recovery, I think, is less about “curing” OCD overnight and more about learning new relationships with fear, control, and uncertainty. And while that might sound small, for many it’s a profound shift — one that allows life to expand again.
A Call for Gentler Language (Beyond "I'm so OCD")
So this OCD Awareness Week, maybe we can all pause before using “OCD” as shorthand for being tidy or particular.Instead, we could acknowledge it as a serious and often painful condition that deserves understanding, not shorthand.
Small changes in language make a real difference. They open doors to empathy. They tell those who are struggling, “I see that this isn’t funny, or quirky — it’s hard, and you deserve help.”
If you or someone you care about is affected by OCD, support is available through OCD-UK and OCD Action, both of which offer excellent resources, helplines, and communities of understanding.
And if you’re unsure where to begin, speaking to your GP or reaching out to a counsellor can be a gentle first step. You don’t need to have the right words — just the willingness to begin.
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