The Love That Sets Us Free: A Compassionate Path Through OCD

OCD can be a torturous experience. 

Not a quirk or a desire for tidiness, but a dread-filled urgency that demands the elimination of uncertainty.

Which is, of course, an impossible task.

Living with OCD, I’ve found myself turning the car around to check that I didn’t hit a pedestrian, throwing out a batch of cookies because I couldn’t let go of the thought that the eggs had expired and someone would get sick, replaying conversations in my head on loop, desperate to be sure I didn’t say something inappropriate and googling—again—whether what I did counts as a mortal sin.

Yet, in a paradox that can feel nearly impossible to accept, the way through OCD isn’t found by fighting harder, checking more, or outsmarting our own thoughts.

It’s found in love.

---

The Inner World of OCD

Somewhere along the way, my OCD parts learned that obsessing or checking was the responsible thing to do. It was how I stayed safe. It was how I avoided mistakes, disappointment, sin, or danger. 

Whether through a traumatic experience, a moment of shame, or a subtle message picked up in childhood, something deep inside concluded: I must be certain. I cannot afford to be wrong.

So I learned to act—obsess, analyze, repeat, confess, check—as a way to protect myself and others.

And it works. For a moment.

Reassurance from a loved one that the stove really was turned off.  A negative test result. The reception of absolution. A sigh of momentary relief.

But that relief never lasts. 

The more frequently I engage in the obsessions and compulsions, the more I teach these scared parts of me: This is how we get safe. 

And soon, the same cycle returns, only stronger and more desperate.

---

A Misguided Approach

Too often, treatments for OCD reinforce a kind of civil war within. We’re taught to view OCD as a “bully” or a “liar,” to silence or suppress the voices of doubt. And while there’s some truth to the idea that OCD thoughts are distorted or irrational, these aggressive metaphors can deepen our self-rejection.

When we treat parts of ourselves as enemies—disordered, malfunctioning, shameful—we only fracture further.

But what if those parts of us aren’t villains to be silenced, but children to be loved?

---

A Loving Response

Internal Family Systems (IFS) gives us a framework to understand this truth. In IFS, every part of us, even the ones that cause pain, exists for a reason. These parts are not evil. They are trying—urgently, often misguidedly—to help.

They are scared. They are trying to protect us. And they need love.

With gratitude and tenderness, we can begin to talk to these parts of ourselves. Not as enemies to crush, but as younger parts who learned long ago that certainty, perfection, and control were the only ways to stay safe.

And like any child having a tantrum, these parts are not soothed by being silenced or punished. They are calmed by presence. By compassion. By love.

---

It Gets Harder Before It Gets Better

The work of healing is not easy. In fact, it’s often counterintuitive.

It feels wrong to let the question go unanswered. It feels irresponsible not to check. It feels dangerous to sit in uncertainty.

But these feelings aren’t facts. They’re expressions of fear: deep, primal fear from within us that something bad will happen if we don’t act.

So when we stop engaging with the compulsions, those scared parts might panic. Like a child yelling “You have to check!” or “You can’t just move on!”

This is why it sometimes feels worse before it gets better. Because the parts are scared. And they need to learn, slowly and gently, that they don’t have to do this anymore.

---

Flipping Responsibility on Its Head

It feels like the responsible thing to do is to obsess, to check, to make sure. That if we really cared, we’d get it right, every time, no matter what.

But in truth, the most responsible—and courageous—thing to do is to trust.

To trust that God has already answered the deepest questions of your heart. To trust that you are loved even when you’re uncertain. To trust that you are good, not because you never make mistakes, but because God made you, and He said you are very good.

The great commandment is to love God, love your neighbor, and love yourself. Not to be perfect. Not to be certain. Not to eliminate all doubt.

To love.

---

A New Way to Heal

When we begin to respond to these OCD-driven parts of us with compassion, a beautiful shift happens.

They stop screaming. They stop demanding. They begin to soften.

Like a child wrapped in the arms of a parent, they start to trust that someone stronger, wiser, and safer is holding them.

God is that parent. And we can be His hands and heart to the scared parts within us.

---

A Final Word to the Sufferer

The Father delights in you. 

Just as any parent rejoices when their child lets them care for them, God rejoices when we stop fighting and let Him hold us.

If you have OCD, you are not defined by your obsessive thoughts. They are just thoughts.  

You can grow to have a say in what you do with them.  

The checking behavior can lose its power.  

Uncertainty can be something you can grow to embrace rather than fear.

Because you are His. You are loved. And there is nothing you can do about it.