Forum · Recovery
Shy bladder and medication: what helps in the long run?
For a while the tablets let me pee with people nearby. Then they stopped working, and I'm still looking for what lasts.
I’m 22 and I’ve had a shy bladder for as long as I can remember. I never saw it as a problem to fix, it was just how I was built.
School was easy enough because I was home by mid-afternoon. Then came a trip abroad, twenty hours in a car, with petrol station toilets that were dirty and full of people. I got through it, and did it a few more times, without once thinking about my kidneys.
University was harder. Lectures started at eight and I wasn’t home until after five, so I became very good at ignoring my bladder. There’s a single toilet on campus, but it’s meant for students with disabilities, and I’d rather hold it for eleven hours than have anyone notice I can’t use the normal ones.
Saying it out loud
Last year I saw a therapist about other things. In the final session I told her about the bathroom problem, and she was surprised I’d waited so long. That’s when I saw how much shame came with being pee shy. Only my mum and two friends knew.
The tablets
This February I got tired of missing out and went to a psychiatrist. Citalopram came first, and for a while it worked. I could pee with people nearby, and I put up with the side effects for that. Then it faded, and a higher dose did nothing.
A month ago I switched to Zoloft. Three weeks in I’ve got the side effects but no big change yet. Maybe the dose is too small, maybe it just needs more time.
People who’ve been through this told me tablets don’t cure it, and that practice is what actually moves things. So at home I drink plenty of water, sit in the bathroom and write down how it felt. I don’t push past what feels okay, and I’d ask a doctor before trying the water part.
I still don’t know if a pill can switch off the panic that starts the second I lock a stall door. If something helped you for the long run, I’d really like to know what it was.
Stories come from experiences people shared openly in online paruresis communities. We retell them in our own words and change names and details so nobody can be identified. They are personal experiences, not medical advice.