I was 14 when the noise began. At 16, I was formally diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). But in truth, it started years earlier irrational fears that turned into patterns, ticks, and rituals that seemed impossible to escape. In 1999, a tragedy shook my small town when a school shooting claimed the life of a classmate and church member. That loss, paired with my already anxious mind, cracked something wide open inside me. My childhood fears found a new stage, and the rituals came roaring in. For me, it was the number five. Five turns of my school locker lock. Five times touching a doorway. Five times rereading a sentence or paragraph. The logic was cruel and relentless: If I don’t do this, someone I love—or even myself—will die. It was a living hell inside my head.
Learning to Quiet the Noise
With time, counselling, new life goals, and the slow but steady grind of resilience, I began to find tools to quiet the noise. But OCD is tricky, and it doesn’t just disappear. It hides, it waits, and it resurfaces during life’s hardest moments. Every big transition in my life, moving away, becoming a mom, losing a pet, tends to stir up those rituals and intrusive fears again. Meditation helped, but only up to a point. Learning Reiki brought me another layer of healing. Maybe it’s the energy flow, maybe it’s the healing light, or maybe it’s just the way it allows me to feel held in the moment, but Reiki gives me a safe space to breathe again. I also turn to manifestation practices when I need to quiet the noise. Intentionally placing my energy not into rituals, but into vision, hope, and the trust that what I truly want exists far beyond my fears.
When Numbing Becomes Noise
There was a time after leaving my ex when I shared 50/50 parenting of my children. When they were home, I felt alive and purposeful. But when they were away, silence became my worst enemy. Instead of rituals, I turned to alcohol. At 5’2, a bottle of wine a day quickly became a trusted coping mechanism for me, a way to mute the ache of being alone, the screaming silence of my thoughts. I didn’t see it as another ritual at the time, but it was. A different kind of noise. Thankfully, I recognized what was happening before it consumed me completely. I walked away from that dark chapter and chose differently.
The Greatest Loss
When my mum, my best friend, passed away unexpectedly, I braced myself. If ever there was a moment for my OCD to come crashing back full force, it was then. But thankfully, something inside me had already shifted. The worst had already happened. And in the face of that loss, I chose not to numb, but to heal. I leaned into manifestation. Just before she passed, I had manifested a new apartment, and I channelled my grief into making it a sanctuary. I poured myself into my children’s well-being, into supporting my widowed father, and into nurturing my own health. I even manifested love into my life again. For the first time in my life, I truly understood that healing didn’t mean erasing the noise (as nice as that would be), it meant learning to lower the volume.
My Safe Spaces
Do I still catch myself tapping things, taking five extra sips of water, or running through small rituals? Yes. OCD doesn’t vanish, it lingers. But now, I have safe spaces to quiet my mind. I turn to meditation, sometimes guided, sometimes self-led. I practice Reiki, letting energy flow and soothe my internal chaos. And, I manifest intentionally, choosing to shift my focus from fear to possibility. These practices remind me that I am capable of choosing healing over the noise.
Quitting the Noise
Quitting the noise isn’t about silencing OCD forever. It’s about learning to listen differently. It’s about recognizing when fear is masquerading as protection, when rituals are pretending to keep us safe, and when numbing is just another disguise for pain. Healing isn’t linear. My journey has been full of stumbles, detours, and lessons that I wish I didn’t have to learn the hard way. But I also know that every time I’ve chosen to quiet the noise, even for a moment, I’ve created an internal space for peace, for joy, and for love to enter.
Cheers,
Coach Jo <3
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