My husband’s OCD almost destroyed our marriage – he’d clean the house for up to 20 hours a day

NEVER in my dreams did I think I’d have anything in common with Victoria Beckham. I’m not famous with millions in the bank and paparazzi don’t follow my every move.

But watching David Beckham talk about his obsessive routines in his Netflix documentary – how he meticulously organises his wardrobe and cleans every candle at night – I felt a flash of recognition and a wave of sympathy for his wife. 

I know the cataclysmic impact of a slightly open clothes drawer, as I’m married to a man who has OCD.

When I met Keith, 43, in April 2006, I was struck by his smile. We went to the same church, and he was intelligent, handsome and worked in IT.

We married the following October 2007, and as we kissed, I was sure I was about to begin the most wonderful chapter of my life.

As Christians, we’d chosen to live apart before marriage, so it was thrilling to be together constantly. But once we were back from our honeymoon, it all changed. 

Keith started jumping up to clean as soon as we’d finished eating dinner. I wanted to hang out on the sofa, but he’d be scrubbing the floors and surfaces for hours. 

By November, he was following me around and straightening anything I’d touched.

Alarmingly, with every day that passed, he would spend longer and longer tidying. But he refused to accept it was an issue and just said he liked to clean. 

We were hardly ever intimate, and I felt cheated out of the newlywed intimacy I had so looked forward to.

On Valentine’s Day 2008, I thought cooking his favourite meal and decorating the house with candles might get us back on track.

So when Keith arrived home late, gobbled up his meal, then immediately got up to clean, I snapped. Furious and heartbroken, I began shouting and soon we were having a huge argument. 

I ran out on to the street and Keith followed me, also shouting. Concerned, our neighbours called the police, who came and arrested Keith.

Though no charges were brought, it was awful. I couldn’t believe our first Valentine’s had ended with Keith being arrested.

Keith’s cleaning impacted our social life, too. When we went out for dinner with friends, he often couldn’t get out of the house – whether I stood and nagged him to hurry up or sat in the car and waited, it always ended in disaster.

My frustration would turn to fury, and either we didn’t end up going at all, or by the time we got there, I was too angry to enjoy myself.

Keith was also incredibly anxious around certain parts of the house, like his wardrobe. If anyone went near it, he’d have a huge anxiety spike. He also refused to open it more than once a week.

Instead, he wore the same two shirts all week – and paid for dry cleaning – rather than going into the wardrobe and getting a clean one. I tried to understand, but I just became resentful.

In September 2008, I gave Keith an ultimatum: he had one month to figure out what was wrong, or I’d leave. I loved him, but I couldn’t cope any longer. 

On the last day of the month, Keith came home from the doctor and said he’d been diagnosed with obsessive compulsive disorder. I had no idea what it was, but I still felt relieved: this problem had a name, and we could fix it – or so I thought.

He began having talking therapy with someone who wasn’t a specialist in the condition, which ended up making things worse. Soon he was cleaning and checking things in the house for up to 20 hours a day. 

Losing his job in March 2010 for being late to work after staying up all night cleaning was a huge blow.

But it was then that he started specialised OCD treatment – a mix of medication and exposure therapy, which encourages people to confront their obsessions without carrying them out.

His compulsive behaviour lessened and he decided to study for an MA in philosophy of religion and ethics. 

He became calmer and happier and, away from the house, I could recognise the amazing, loving man I’d fallen for, though his struggles with OCD continued.

We’d always wanted children, but that seemed impossible as we knew it wouldn’t be fair to expose them to this. 

I coped by numbing myself with constant activity and travelling with work whenever I could. I tried to clean and tidy, thinking it would ease Keith’s burden, but it only increased my resentment. 

Burnt out, in July 2010, I began therapy of my own, alongside marriage therapy with Keith.

But when he lost a job opportunity because of his mental health in late 2015, then sank into depression, I knew we had to separate. He was upset and asked me to reconsider, but agreed to move in with friends.

In therapy, I wrote a letter to his OCD, pouring out my fury and sadness at this condition that had stolen my relationship; I grieved for the marriage I never got to have.

Then, one evening as I rewatched the video of our wedding vows, I was struck by a thought: if Keith had cancer, would I leave him?

If I had a stroke, would he leave me? Mental health shouldn’t be any different from a physical condition. I decided to stand by my vows and the man I loved. 

We reconciled in October 2016 and worked hard on finding compromises and solutions.

We tackled our lack of intimacy by going to a hotel once a month, as being outside of the house eased Keith’s anxiety. This was one simple action that brought us closer together.

Putting my own boundaries in place helped to stop my cycle of frustration, too.

Before, I’d be overwhelmed with anger if Keith couldn’t leave the house, making me late. Instead, I accepted that it was his responsibility, and it wouldn’t stop me keeping to my own plans. 

Still, at 35, we finally decided never to try for children. I knew that I couldn’t be a mother, work and stay healthy myself when Keith’s OCD still ebbed and flowed. It was an incredibly hard decision to make, but ultimately the right one.

Sixteen years after our wedding, I’m so proud of our marriage and the man that I love. Our relationship isn’t perfect, and there are still days when Keith can’t get out of the house.

But now we are fighting the illness – not one another.

In February 2020, we set up Mental Health Strong, a non-profit to support people in relationships who are struggling with mental health challenges. 

I want people to know that they’re not alone. Our journey proves that, like David and Victoria, if there is love, then there is always hope."

Keith says: “As Erin and I walked towards each other on our wedding day, we were both crying, thrilled to be starting our new life together.

Neither of us knew of the challenges ahead. 

My previous housemates hadn’t commented on the hours I spent cleaning, and I didn’t realise that there was a problem that needed tackling.

But seeing the impact on Erin left me feeling helpless. I desperately wanted to spend time with her, but I was a prisoner to my rituals.

I was trapped on a wheel, working away for hours to get even a short window of relief. It was exhausting.

Thankfully, with our love for each other and a lot of hard work, we found a way through. I’m so proud of us and where we are.” 

•  Visit Mentalhealthstrong.com.