The small but powerful ways we built resilience while navigating OCD and anxiety—and how you can too.
For us, resilience was built in the moments when everything felt uncertain, when our own minds told us stories of doubt, fear, and what-ifs. It wasn’t something we were born with—it was something we had to learn, unlearn, and relearn over and over again.
Growing up with OCD and anxiety meant resilience didn’t always look like bravery in the traditional sense. It looked like resisting the urge to seek reassurance, even when our thoughts felt unbearable. It looked like sitting with discomfort, letting uncertainty linger, and learning to accept the unknown instead of trying to control it.
Our bracelets aren’t just reminders; they are proof of the resilience we had to build to get here.
Resilience looked like waking up to a distressing thought about something you said ten years ago, feeling the immediate urge to dissect every detail, and instead whispering to yourself, My thoughts are passing clouds as you force yourself to get out of bed and make coffee.
Resilience looked like catching your reflection in a store window, feeling that gnawing panic that something looks “off” about your face, and resisting the urge to pull out your front camera for just one more check.
Resilience looked like reminding yourself that a dream doesn’t define you—that you are separate from your mind—even when anxiety tries to convince you otherwise, sending you down a spiral of overanalyzing what it must mean.
Resilience looked like recognizing when you're mentally exhausted from compulsions and allowing yourself to spend a Sunday on the couch, gently reminding yourself that It's okay to feel how I feel, instead of forcing yourself to be productive just to escape the discomfort.
Resilience looked like throwing away an old birthday card, even though your brain whispers that it holds some undefined, life-altering significance.
Resilience looked like stepping outside and embracing uncertainty, even when your mind tells you something catastrophic will happen if you do.
Resilience looked like resisting the compulsion to confess every thought, every feeling, every doubt—learning to brave the uncomfortable of not knowing.
Resilience looked like sitting down to eat a sandwich your friend made, feeling the intrusive thought creep in—Did they wash their hands? What if there was raw chicken on that counter?—and taking a bite anyway.
Resilience looked like acknowledging that the intrusive thought you just had is just that—a thought—and moving forward without trying to neutralize it.
Resilience looked like choosing to live in the present instead of replaying past conversations, past choices, past moments you fear you got wrong, because you can let go of what you can’t control.
They hold the words that carried us through the hardest moments—the ones that taught us that resilience isn’t about erasing fear, but learning to live alongside it.
For years, we struggled in silence, believing our fears and intrusive thoughts made us weak. But over time, therapy, support, and each other helped us see the truth: resilience isn’t about having no fear—it’s about moving forward despite it. Every time we chose to embrace uncertainty instead of running from it, we built resilience. Every time we resisted a compulsion, we proved to ourselves that we were stronger than our doubts.
That’s what led us to create Presently. Our bracelets aren’t just reminders; they are proof of the resilience we had to build to get here. They hold the words that carried us through the hardest moments—the ones that taught us that resilience isn’t about erasing fear, but learning to live alongside it.
Resilience, for us, comes from facing our own minds with courage. And if we can do it, so can you.
Presently yours,
Lindsay & Emily
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