Religious OCD took over my childhood. Years later, I learned how to manage it.

Growing up in a Catholic family, I was immersed in faith from an early age. Sunday mornings were spent at church, and from kindergarten through eighth grade, I attended a Catholic school where the Bible’s teachings were not just part of the curriculum, but permeated every aspect of my life.

Around second grade, when my peers and I began preparing for our first communion, I started to show signs of what my teachers described as an honest conscience, a trait for which I was regularly praised for. I was constantly apologizing for thinking negatively or having un-Catholic thoughts.

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Although my teachers believed that I had the makings of a devoted follower of Christ, I was spiralling, trying to shake the persistent feeling that I was doing something bad, dirty or wrong. Eventually, this need to confess my wrongdoings became a disruption. Instead of spending my lunch period sharing snacks and playing MASH, I was sitting in the counsellor’s office, being treated for severe anxiety by a child psychologist. The shame I felt at being called into the office on the PA system burned hot on my neck. How can there be something wrong with me if I am the perfect child of God? This means God isn’t happy with who I am.

My psychologist did not understand why I couldn’t simply stop my compulsion. I did not have the words to explain it to her.

If I found a classmate particularly annoying, a thought would flash through my mind: Wow, I really don’t like this person. It would cause me physical distress if I didn’t, moments later, go up to that individual and apologize, pray or repent.

When I tried to fight my thoughts, the anxiety would eat away at me. Only when I gave in did I feel momentary relief. What I didn’t realize then was that I was experiencing symptoms of obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD).

Toronto-based psychotherapist Shlomo Radcliffe explains that OCD, as the name implies, involves obsessive thinking and compulsions.

“The obsession causes a lot of distress,” he says. “And one engages in a compulsion to ease the discomfort of the intrusive thought.”

Although my teachers believed that I had the makings of a devoted follower of Christ, I was spiralling.

Over time, my relationship with religion began to sour, as my episodes were particularly intense around religious holidays like Christmas, Easter and while at church, where it was repeatedly emphasized that God sees and knows all. But Lent was the most difficult of all, as the act of confessing my sins to our priest as a part of lenten reconciliation only intensified my compulsions. Those 40 days could not pass fast enough.

Radcliffe notes that OCD often targets a person’s morality and the things they value most deeply. He explains that many of his clients who practise a faith experience a religious OCD theme. “This is also why themes change over time,” he says. “One’s values can change as they develop and grow.”

Honesty is a core value in the Bible, so for years, my teachers, family, and peers would reinforce my compulsion to confess. But when I was 16, I refused to attend church any longer. I had learned to ignore my compulsions more effectively, careful not to push myself further down the social ladder. I was also attending a public high school, something I fought hard for. I could exhale without the threat of eternal purgatory.

However, I was still suffering from anxiety, and my parents decided it was time I went back to therapy. My therapist believed I was exhibiting tendencies of OCD. But I misunderstood the disorder to mean being obsessively clean or neat — something I was not. I never thought about OCD again until I became friends with a girl in university. She also experienced the never-ending bombardment of “am I a good person” thoughts. When she was diagnosed with OCD, I started to look more deeply into the illness and, after some quick online searches, found a community of people I did not know existed. They all shared the same religious obsession, called scrupulosity. According to the International OCD Foundation, someone with OCD may appear to be very devoted to their religious practices, but this is an effort to alleviate the anxiety caused by the obsessions. A lightbulb went off.

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Now, with the help of extensive behaviour modification therapy, I better manage my OCD, especially during triggering periods.

Today, I have developed a relationship with God outside of Catholicism, as the doctrine can still set off episodes. Moments of prayer that once triggered me now bring me peace.

According to the International OCD Foundation, the disorder is relatively common; about one in 40 adults has it or will develop it at some point in their lives. In Western, secular countries, up to as many as a third of people with OCD have some scrupulous symptoms and about five percent have primary scrupulosity. In some religious cultures and subcultures, religious symptoms are present for the majority of people with OCD.” Scrupulosity is not as easily recognized as OCD, but instead as religious devotion.

Looking back, I wish I had pursued treatment sooner. But acknowledging something was wrong somehow seemed scarier to me at the time. OCD can be a deeply embarrassing experience. But being vulnerable does not mean you have to be alone. Opening up about my experience has led me to discover a network of people in my life who truly understand. This is something that seven-year-old me could have only hoped for.

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Macenzie Rebelo is an arts, culture and disability journalist based in Toronto.