Shy bladder at a festival: the toilet queue that made me act

The festival was meant to be the best weekend of my summer. Instead I spent part of it in a plastic cubicle that smelled of chemicals and warm sun, needing to pee and completely unable to.

I’ve had shy bladder for as long as I can remember, and I’m 26 now. A closed cubicle is normally fine for me, but that day the bass was thumping, a queue was shuffling outside, and someone coughed right by the door. Nothing came. I got so angry at myself that I gave up, then tried again an hour later and managed it. By then I wasn’t myself, and my friends could tell.

The planning is the worst part

Every trip, weeks ahead, I’m already wondering where I’ll be able to go. I fly next week and my head is full of airport toilets and plane cubicles. That’s the bathroom anxiety I carry around.

I barely drink either. Once I break the seal I need the loo every ten minutes, and if I can’t go, that’s a recipe for a horrible night. So I stay sober and watch everyone else enjoy themselves.

Finally doing something

After the festival I went looking for answers and found people describing exactly what I go through. Some had it much worse than me, which strangely made me feel I could beat it.

Only my fiancée knows. I trust her completely, and she’s going to be my practice partner. I also picked up a simple idea: write a list of situations from easiest to hardest, work up it slowly, and cross each one off. A man who’s fully recovered says he now drinks coffee on an eight hour drive without a worry, and wishes he’d started at my age.

Next I’m booking a doctor’s appointment and looking at a free online support meeting. Until then I’m trying not to think about toilets until I actually need one.

The biggest reason is simple. If I ever have a son, I want to stand at a urinal next to him and show him it’s completely normal.