“Dad, I’m Tired”– The Moment That Shook Me

It was late on a weeknight. My daughter—now 19 and in her first semester of college—began to cry. This was three years post OCD diagnosis, but we were at the peak of her symptoms. I walked in from the living room, where my wife lay asleep. We were both exhausted—physically, mentally, emotionally. For the past couple of months, my daughter’s OCD and intrusive thoughts had pushed her into despair on a nightly basis.

I walked over, stood beside her, and asked, “What’s bothering you? How can I help?”

She turned, eyes filled with tears, and whispered, “Dad, I’m tired.”

I knew exactly what she meant.

Yes, her lack of sleep from relentless intrusive thoughts had her physically and mentally exhausted, but that wasn’t what she was saying. She was tired of fighting. Tired of not feeling like herself. Most of all, tired of feeling helpless.

Hearing those words, knowing the weight they carried, was jarring. As a parent, your first thought always is, How can I take the pain away? How can I fight for you when you’re too tired to fight?

You want to remain strong for your child. Be their anchor in the storm. Even though, in that moment, I felt like saying, “I’m tired too, love.”

OCD and Intrusive Thoughts: The Slow Build of Her Worsening Symptoms

This moment didn’t just happen overnight.

Her OCD had ebbed and flowed since her initial diagnosis, shaped by therapy sessions and moments of progress. For a while, we thought she had a good grip on it—therapy had helped subdue the shame and embarrassment that often came with the intrusive thoughts that tormented her mind.

But then, life changed. And with change came fear. With fear came strife.

For many who struggle with OCD and intrusive thoughts, life transitions can trigger a worsening of symptoms—and for her, that transition was graduating high school. In her mind, this wasn’t just a milestone. It was the start of adulthood—a world full of expectations, uncertainties, and pressures she didn’t feel ready for.

As time inched closer to her first day of college, her intrusive thoughts grew more distressing. If you recall from my first blog post, intrusive thoughts follow common themes that shift depending on life experiences, stress, and anxiety levels. By the beginning of her first semester, they had become unbearable.

In this, her darkest moment, I knew there was nothing I could say or do to make her feel safe, comforted, or reassured that this would pass.

The Parent’s Perspective – Heartbreak with Light on the Horizon

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time we locked horns with anxiety. Both my wife and I had fought our own battles with mental health. Thankfully, we had the right help, resources, doctors, and support to come out stronger. I don’t have OCD, but I remember the feeling of being completely consumed by anxiety. Even with professional help and support, reasoning with an irrational mind at the peak of despair is impossible.

The only thing I could do was offer empathy and understanding. I hugged her and said, “I know you’re tired, love. As much as you can’t see it right now, you will get through this. You have all the right people helping you walk through all the right steps to recovery. Do you trust Dad?” “Yea” she replied. “Do you see me worried? That’s because I know you’re going to be just fine. You’ll be better than fine, having a better understanding of how to cope.”

I knew my words did little to help. She wanted reassurance that she wasn’t the person her intrusive thoughts were convincing her she was. Because that’s what OCD and intrusive thoughts do. It checks and re-checks, and re-checks, and then checks again. It tests and pushes you to question your moral compass. I wanted it to go away for her as much as she did, but I knew we were right in the thick of this battle. We had some ways to go before any light would shine through.

This is where my own past struggles kept me steady—for her, and if I’m being honest, for myself. I had to stay unwavering. I couldn’t let doubt creep in and take hold. We would win this fight together, no matter how tiring.

Solving the Intrusive “Puzzle“

Instead of answering her checking requests—which only feed intrusive thoughts and do more harm than good—I turned to our go-to distraction: Wordle.

At that point, distractions weren’t perfect. They didn’t magically erase the thoughts. She fought through solving each puzzle with me, tears slipping between guesses. She would hit her forehead, trying to physically fight off the relentless thoughts. But even in those painful moments, the game gave her something to focus on—to avert her gaze from the constant nuisance of an intrusive thought.

After Wordle, we moved on to another game—one where you guess the name of a movie from a single still shot. She would snuggle next to me on the couch, and together, we worked to become puzzle champions. It became a nightly ritual. It didn’t seem like much but it gave her a tiny moment of relief. A little pocket of time to look forward to in a day filled with torment.

The Lesson & Hope for Others Struggling with OCD and Intrusive Thoughts

Healing doesn’t happen all at once. There are no instant fixes, no miracle breakthroughs.

But small victories begin to lay a foundation of hope.

One moment of peace. One night of fewer tears. One puzzle solved. One hug that says, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.

Take the small wins as a sign of better things to come, because they will come. Crawl before you can walk. And when you walk again, you’ll walk with a different gait—one forged through resilience, understanding, and love.

Sometimes, the battle isn’t won in big moments—but in the little ones.

One Wordle puzzle at a time.

Resources for OCD, Anxiety, or Trichotillomania