Last Tuesday I was driving home when in the corner of my eye, a familiar messenger appeared: a faded reader board in front of a local church that read, "All are welcome.” At first glance, I reflected on how comforting this message sounds, and I even repeated it a few times to myself as I waited for the light to change. Then, an all-too-familiar follow-up question settled into my passenger seat: "I wonder, would everyone who has visited this church agree?"

If you are coming out later in life, questioning your sexuality, or wondering if you might be queer in your 30s, 40s, 50s, or beyond, I want to start with this:

You are not behind.

You are not broken.

And no, you did not “miss it.”

Relational or couples therapy is often considered a secondary add-on to the “medically necessary” work of individual treatment; it’s nice to have, but not exactly a pressing need. It’s even common for couples therapists to delay relational counseling until the partner with the condition has made significant progress in individual treatment. While it’s true that relationship counseling can never be a substitute for individual work, and that we’re each responsible for our own mental health journey, relationship counseling can provide vital benefits for mental health treatment.

There is truly nothing like an ice-cold coffee on a summer day. You’re sweaty from running errands, your emotional support sunglasses are on, and suddenly an iced vanilla latte feels less like a beverage and more like self-care. A little treat. A tiny spark of joy. A reason to continue answering emails. And friend, I get it!

OCD is a condition in which intrusive thoughts become sticky and distressing, and people feel driven to use compulsions to relieve that anxiety. When it comes to treating these thought loops, reliable information can be surprisingly hard to find. In parts one and two, we went over myths about what OCD is and how it works. Understanding what OCD does is an important first step in treatment, so you’ve already taken a big step. Let’s break down some more myths, this time all about OCD treatment.

If you’ve spent time learning about OCD, you may have realized that the version of OCD portrayed on screen is rather incomplete or inaccurate. After learning the many forms OCD can actually take, the next question is often “why?” and “how?” In part one, we went over common myths about what OCD is. When it comes to the why and how of OCD, there is again no shortage of misinformation.

From sitcoms to reality TV to social media, the world has a lot to say about what obsessive-compulsive disorder is, how it works, and how it’s treated. Unfortunately, not all of it is accurate. And when it comes to OCD, recognizing it is half the battle. OCD is a disorder that occurs when distressing intrusive thoughts become sticky and difficult to dismiss, causing intense anxiety and a drive to reduce that anxiety with compulsions. This can present in a wide variety of ways, and two people’s OCD may look very different from one another. 

I’m getting ready for work one morning and I have an algorithmically derived playlist on in the background. It’s playing my favourite genre; a mix of songs I love and new ones it thinks I’ll enjoy. When I hear the opening chords of a song I adored in high school, I get first that familiar rush of nostalgia and care and then the crashing horror as I’m reminded of the trial, the verdict - an artist I once loved having done something horrific.

After a bad experience in therapy, deciding to try again matters. It takes openness and resilience to come back to something that didn’t feel good the first time. While therapy can be a powerful and safe place for many, some people have bad experiences and often decide that means therapy isn’t for them. When you’ve been promised an opportunity to heal and instead been met with harm, that reaction makes sense.

Recently, while traveling, I passed a billboard that said, “Pick Jesus or the Easter Bunny. Not both.” I felt my stomach tense for a moment. Not because the message surprised me, but because of what it represents. It reflects the pressure many people grew up with, the expectation to choose the right path, the belief that joy or playfulness somehow competes with spirituality. It reminded me how often people were taught that there is only one acceptable way to exist, celebrate, or belong.

What often sits just beneath that critical voice is something deeper: anxiety. The pressure to get everything “right.” The fear of falling short. The sense that if you’re not perfect, something will go wrong. Let’s take the next step together—learning how to loosen that pressure and begin moving forward, even when things feel uncertain.

Picture this with me for a moment: you catch your reflection in the mirror… and instead of seeing you, your mind immediately starts listing flaws. Too much, not enough, should be better.

Who do you hear when you’re told you’re too much?

Who do you hear when you’re told you’re not enough? 

Is it yourself? Or the voice of those who weren’t able to show up for you

The voice of those who instead of trying to understand you, dismissed you? 

Have you ever caught yourself saying yes when you really meant no? Maybe you notice yourself managing other people’s feelings, apologizing constantly, or avoiding conflict even when something really matters to you. Maybe you leave conversations feeling resentful, exhausted, or like you disappeared somewhere along the way. If this sounds familiar, you may be experiencing the fawn trauma response.

For individuals who have experienced abusive relationships, conversations about boundaries can feel particularly loaded. Advice that sounds straightforward on the surface may overlook the reality that boundaries were not just unclear or underdeveloped, but repeatedly violated, dismissed, or punished.

As a sex therapist, this is one of the most common questions people bring into therapy. It usually comes with a lot of uncertainty and often a quiet fear about what the answer might mean. Is it me, or is it us?

If you’ve watched Bridgerton, you might remember the careful way characters talk around sex. One phrase that stands out is the idea of reaching a “pinnacle.” It’s a euphemism, sure, but it’s also a surprisingly useful one. Because for many people, that pinnacle can feel distant, confusing, or completely unreachable.

n Part 1 of this series, I wrote about depression that shows up when the world feels like it’s on fire. Not the kind of depression that comes from one specific loss, but the kind that settles in when stress, fear, and uncertainty never really let up. What I want to name more directly here is this: for many people, especially marginalized communities, the world feeling “on fire” is not a metaphor. It is personal. It is lived. It is happening to you and the people you love.

OCD knows no bounds when it comes to the topics that it circles, and a common topic across the board is attraction. This shows up in many OCD themes, and is especially true in themes involving relationships, sexuality, and identity. Those with OCD may face intrusive thoughts and doubt regarding whether their attraction to others is appropriate, if they’re really attracted to their partner, or if they can really trust that they know their sexual orientation, even with no true evidence to the contrary.