Alternate title: To pee or not to pee, that is the question…
I was in a clothing store the other day when a mother and her offspring came into the dressing room. Her little angel was shoved into the stall with the instruction to “be a big girl and come out with that dress on.” A minute later the “big girl” replied with, “Do they have toilet paper in here?”
I’m not kidding, and I’m also still not remotely interested in shopping or other people’s children.
Anyway, the mom freaked out and averted crisis, leaving me with her “Didn’t I ask you if you had to go before we left?” and the idea for this blog post. You can thank the incontinent angel.
Thanks to early (undiagnosed) onset of OCD, my mom never had to worry about asking me if I had to go to the bathroom before we went anywhere. It was—and still is—one of my compulsions.
Now let me explain.
Although I do have a bladder the size of a Fruit Loop and drink tons of water, it’s much more mental. If I’m going to be going somewhere or doing anything, I have to go to the bathroom first. Physically I might not have the urge, but I’m worried that I’ll have to go when I won’t be able to. Thus, I take preventative measures.
Going to bed? Go to the bathroom.
Going for a walk? Go to the bathroom.
Headed to a meeting? Go to the bathroom.
Ready to eat? Go to the bathroom.
While it’s normal to attend to basic human functions, I realized early on that I had a slightly dysfunctional take on the peeing situation.
When I was little, my mom would tuck me in, I would say the same exact prayer in the same exact way and place (another OCD thing, as I still say that prayer even though half the people and pets in it are dead now and I’m not religious) and it would be assumed that I was fast asleep.
However, I was paranoid and would compulsively get up and pee after going to bed. It got to the point where I would be sneaking out of my room and going 10-15 times, quietly trying to shut my door so that my parents didn’t hear me get up. Sometimes it worked, but other times the damn click of the doorknob alerted them to my covert urinary operations.
We discussed this issue and to be honest, I don’t remember how we scaled it down from 20 times a night to one or two. Maybe I got lazy or bed restraints were involved. Either way, it eventually diminished and morphed into some other dysfunction over time.
But I still have a bathroom thing.
Plane trips and movies freak me out, as I’m never sure if I’ll have immediate access if needed. I still plan long walks and activities on whether or not a bathroom will be nearby. It’s not that I don’t trust my strong and youthful bladder, but it’s just one of those things I need for reassurance, one of my neurotic quirks (I prefer that term to compulsions, thank you very much.)
I do remember the first time I tried to “hover” though.
My mom was quick to school me in anti-public restroom behavior, and we were shopping somewhere I can’t recall (but I can assure it it wasn’t in a dressing room.) I remember I was wearing this denim shirt and dress combo; the skirt had three ruffle things, all a different color. Don’t ask why I remember this, but I do.
Anyway, I pissed all over my skirt.
Thankfully I’ve perfected the maneuver since then, but there are occasional incidents when I realize I peed on my hand when wiping without any idea how.
Now I’m just oversharing and embarrassing myself.
Let’s blame it on shopping and children.
If you’ve made it through this post, you deserve something special, so I present to you a baby raccoon taking a bath. It’s completely unrelated, but I just wrote about peeing and it’s cute. Hopefully that balances out.