1,2,3. Sh*t, that’s my OCD ⭐⭐⭐⭐

This unflinching one-woman show plunges into the inner chaos of Tina, a young woman grappling with OCD and PTSD. Far from the pop-culture clichés, it paints a raw, intimate portrait of compulsions, trauma, and the lingering scars left by abusive relationships with men.

Tina's story isn’t told linearly—it fractures and spirals, echoing the turbulent mental state she inhabits. The play shifts through memory and moment, each scene reflecting how OCD entraps her in relentless loops, while past trauma resurfaces with brutal clarity. Snippets of real women's voices detailing their own experiences with men underscore the broader context, building a collective sense of unease and shared pain.

At times disorienting and relentless, the structure mimics the overwhelming reality of living with OCD and ADHD. The pacing and constant shifts evoke a sense of being locked inside Tina’s brain—claustrophobic, intense, and inescapable.

Performer and writer Bibi Couceiro commands the stage with sharp emotional agility. Her willingness to confront the audience directly—calling out disengagement—forces an uncomfortable but necessary intimacy. You can’t look away. You’re not meant to.

Directed by Ana Bel Golim, the production doesn’t flinch from darkness. Trigger warnings are well-placed, but nothing quite prepares you for the emotional depth it reaches. Moments of intrusive thoughts and overwhelming self-doubt are strikingly relatable, especially for those who have lived with mental illness. You’re pulled into her world and left there, sitting in the discomfort.

The occasional flickers of humor offer needed relief, though one wonders if a touch more levity might better balance the intensity. Still, the emotional weight lingers long after the final blackout.

Courageous and uncompromising, this is theatre at its most vulnerable. It doesn’t just show you OCD—it makes you feel it. And that impact is hard to shake.