What You See Isn’t What You Get: OCD, Intrusive Thoughts, and the Calm Mask

Yesterday, I had a little wander down the canal in Hackney. I miss living there for loads of reasons. The water, the hidden quiet spots in the middle of a buzzing area, and, of course, the wildlife it brings.
I did my normal thing of jumping off the train a few stops early and took the longer path to my destination, opting for a waterside stroll.

The sun was out, the summer breeze lightly blowing, passing the odd floating Lime bike along the way... ahh, bliss.

I passed some little birds, ducks flighting, a group of pigeons eating the same cigarette butt. I mean, how long does it take before they realise this isn’t food?!

Finally, two adult swans started to guide their chicks along the canal, swimming towards me, thinking I had a bag of four-day-old bread in my pockets.
I stopped and sat watching them for a fair amount of time.

Surprisingly, the water around Hackney is fairly clear this time of year. You can see the mountain of crap and rubbish at the bottom, but also the sharp green colours of plants growing below.

As the swans started to swim off, you could really see the amount of work their legs were doing.
Big black, rubber-looking flippers motoring away, while their elegant long necks and calm expressions made it look effortless.
One of the chicks decided to head off alone—the rebel, lone wolf of the group taking on life—but one of the parents wasn’t having any of his shit and gave a little chase.

This is where you could really see the legs going to work! But still, that top half stayed calm and composed.

Calm on the Surface, Chaos Beneath

The point of this David Attenborough-esque swan description? It has a reason.

As someone who’s been experiencing OCD for over 30 years, it’s taken me a long-arse time to figure out that I could never describe myself as:
“What you see is what you get.” It couldn’t be further from the truth.

Those who meet me, I’d imagine, would describe me as calm. Others would say relaxed and at ease.
Those who know me would say: calm... on the outside.

It’s not that I’m not a calm person, but the level of chill I give off isn’t the full picture. Inside, what I call my manic mind—it’s racing 90% of the time. And when I say racing, I mean faster than an F1 car down a 20-mph side road.

If you met me, I could almost guarantee you’d feel comfortable within a few seconds.
This is not me saying, “OMG, I’m so great, you’ll love me.”
No. It’s that people feed off each other’s energy, and mine, as I’m told, is calming.

The problem is, although I am calm and real, I also have a battle with the monkey mind that won’t shut the fuck up. That’s my anxiety.

Coaching Myself Through Conversations

I can feel at ease—focused, in control of my body language, listening abilities, and gaze, but to do that, it’s like my mind is coaching me through.

Mind:

• “You’re maintaining too much eye contact, look away for a bit.”

• “You should mention something else—they didn’t seem to like that question.”

• “They’re boring me, I cba to listen.”

These thoughts are wrong and just intrusive thoughts, which I now label as:
"Shut the fuck up."

The worst ones I get are judgmental ones… views I don’t believe.
I know that’s hard to understand, but it’s true.
Someone with OCD will likely get a pretty messed-up thought lasting a nanosecond.

OCD in Childhood: Pain, Panic, and No Language for It

Imagine being a child, not knowing what OCD was, or not even hearing of it, and a thought pops into your head. During a conversation, or worse, when you're alone at night with no way to distract yourself.

For me, as a kid, my intrusive thoughts came with what felt like real physical pain. Still, as an adult, I get these.

An example:
I recently had a meeting for a part-time job. As I sat and chatted to the hiring manager, my mind thought:

“Yeah, let’s throw in a few intrusive thoughts and fuck any chance of this job up.”

The hiring manager seemed lovely, very engaging, and even said, “You seem like someone who would work well under pressure.”

Mind:

• “What the fuck are they wearing?”

• Followed by an urge to slap them.

Now, I know I’ve probably alienated any chance of being hired by writing this, but this is OCD working.

Again, I label it: “Just a thought.” Imagine a Post-it note being slapped on it.

I team this with some subtle deep breathing—inhale, hold, exhale—and that helps me move on.

I still look calm(ish) and probably come across as horizontal, but my mind is trying to sabotage me. And it’s draining AF.

Tools That Actually Help

Here’s what helps me navigate OCD and intrusive thoughts:

1. 🗂️ Label the Little Bastard Thoughts

Picture a sticky note and slap a label on each thought. That separation makes a difference.

2. 📓 Journalling

I journal in the morning—just 3–4 pages of mainly crap. But that crap is better out of my head and on paper.

3. 🧘 Meditation

Hard when your mind is racing, but I just put on some meditation music and follow my breath. No timer, no pressure. Just sit until I feel rested and floaty. I love that peaceful, floating feeling.

4. 🧎‍♂️ Yoga

Sod knows why I’ve never done it before. Over the past few months, I’ve started 20-minute yoga stretches.
You feel focused, relaxed and maybe even able to touch your toes.

5. 🌌 Looking Up

Sounds stupid? When I’m feeling overwhelmed or like I’m squatting inside my head, I head outside and look up.
If you ever see a bloke walking through a park or down a quiet road on a clear night, taking his earphones out and just staring up. That’s probably me.

There’s something about the sky at night, bright stars, the moon.
Or being in a park in busy London and hearing birds sing, trees move, or water flow.
If you’re lucky, a stream, a canal, a river. I’d even take a creek.

Anything to quiet the mind, even for a bit.

My mind doesn’t stop, but when it’s not chatting away, even for a moment... I’m so grateful.