Imagine a relentless bully that invades your mind, attacking everything you hold dear. That’s how Sophie Ashcroft, a 22-year-old from England, describes Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD). But here’s where it gets alarming: reports of OCD among individuals under 25 have tripled in just a decade, according to a BBC analysis of NHS data. This staggering rise has catapulted OCD into the second-most prevalent mental health disorder among young adults in England, surpassing even depression. And this is the part most people miss—it’s not just about cleanliness or organizing socks; OCD is a complex, often debilitating condition that can hijack lives.
Sophie’s story is both heart-wrenching and eye-opening. She recalls, ‘If I had a bad thought during the day, it would ruin the rest of my day. I’d think something terrible was going to happen.’ Her symptoms began at age nine but intensified after the death of a close friend, leading her to repeat mundane tasks endlessly to quell intrusive thoughts. Despite her struggles, Sophie recently graduated from drama school, though she admits, ‘Behind closed doors, it’s sheer panic.’
But here’s the controversy: while the government claims it’s ‘turning services around’ by hiring 8,500 mental health workers and expanding support, many young people like Sophie are still slipping through the cracks. Referral times to specialist OCD centers have skyrocketed, with waits averaging 41 weeks—nearly triple what they were five years ago. Families are left devastated, with some spending hundreds of thousands of pounds on private care when NHS help is unavailable.
Charities like OCD Action argue this is a full-blown crisis. Leigh Wallbank, the charity’s CEO, describes young people’s lives as a ‘pressure pot,’ fueled by financial stress, academic pressures, global issues, and the relentless heat of social media. The Covid-19 pandemic only exacerbated this, disrupting routines and amplifying hygiene-related anxieties.
Here’s where it gets even more contentious: while awareness has improved, leading more people to seek help, experts and charities point to societal pressures and social media as the primary drivers of this surge. But is it fair to blame these factors entirely? Or are we missing something deeper in how we address mental health?
Treatment options like Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) and Exposure and Response Prevention (ERP) exist, but access is far from universal. Sophie, for instance, has waited two years for a specialist appointment, relying on a limited CBT course that’s about to end. ‘I’m absolutely petrified of what the future holds,’ she confesses.
Stories like Sophie’s are not isolated. A mother from southern England shared how her autistic daughter’s OCD has led to multiple hospitalizations, with the system failing to provide timely, adequate care. ‘Our lives have been decimated not just by the illness, but by a system that could not, or would not, provide the help she needed,’ she lamented.
Even radical treatments like Deep Brain Stimulation (DBS), which Graham and Marie Fuller pursued for their daughter in Texas, remain controversial and inaccessible in the UK due to regulatory hurdles. Marie reflects, ‘Having a loved one with OCD has taken its toll on all of us, but we had to do all we could to help.’
So, here’s the question that lingers: Is the UK doing enough to tackle this growing crisis? With outdated guidelines and insufficient funding, the answer seems clear. But what do you think? Is this a societal failure, a healthcare oversight, or something more complex? Share your thoughts in the comments—let’s spark a conversation that could drive change.
