I Can't Pee When People Are in the Bathroom With Me

I am not ashamed of this. I have learned that the best way to confront the problem is to face it head-on, announcing it to whoever is within earshot in the hopes that they might understand this burden that I carry with me every single day of my life.

So that, when I am with a group of women and I need to sneak off to the bathroom, I don't have to politely request that the friendly, chattering gaggle doesn't flock into the bathroom with me as an extended part of our social activity. "Peeing is not a group sport," I wisecrack with a smile, letting them know just kidding except not really because I do actually want to just go to the bathroom by myself.

And also so that, when I'm out at a bar with a group of friends, they'll understand that the reason why I have gone to the bathroom no fewer than seven times in the last hour, looking increasingly frustrated with each return is that I can't relieve myself when other people are in the bathroom and there are hordes of women screeching about boys or other girls or whatever their latest dramas are while fixing their makeup in the bathroom and, for the love of God get out of the bathroom! 

And that when I leave suddenly and without informing anyone of my departure, they'll know that it is because I had to physically leave the property to seek out an alternative bathroom elsewhere, like a nearby In 'N Out Burger, a quiet hotel lobby, or really just anywhere with private(-ish) bathrooms.

It's also with the hope that when I absolutely INSIST we leave a concert or game that they'll have some sympathy and patience with me in knowing that I tried to pee, I really and truly tried, but the crowded restrooms with lines 37-deep and loud drunk women everywhere within inches of me and/or disgusting Porta-Johns (where I have the same issue) were simply too much for my shy bladder to overcome no matter how much I plugged my ears and hummed to myself.

Or that when I go to use the bathroom and disappear for 45 minutes, it's because I actually left the venue and went somewhere else off-site after begging security to let me back in once I come back.

Sidebar: I've never had a problem getting back in under these conditions, but security guys definitely have a hell of a time figuring out what to make of this little girl whose eyes are filled with a feral panic blubbering about how she has to leave so she can pee when there are perfectly good bathrooms inside.

Or when I'm at a beer festival in a market district and have to beg a fruit vendor to allow me to use their employee bathroom, or when I leave the beer festival halfway through "to go get something to eat" when they do indeed serve food at those things.

Or when I'm at a music festival and have to beg a salon half a mile away to let me use their restroom after telling my friends I'm going to "walk around and check things out," which they should damn sure by now know is code for "I have to pee and I'm freaking out because my bladder is obviously going to explode and I am going to die." Even if it means missing a band I really wanted to see, because I know all the crowds will be at the stage significantly increasing the odds of my having a successful trip to the bathroom.

It's important for my friends to know this so that when I nurse one drink over five hours they don't give me any problems for it. (Yes, I have the kinds of friends who will give me, a 34-year-old woman, problems for not drinking more when we're out.) It's also important for them to know why the thought of tailgating strikes a fear in my heart more profound than the thought of my own mortality.

It is the reason I avoid parties and events with questionable/unknown facilities.

It is the reason why, when my outdoorsy friends start in on talk of the "c"-word ("camping") my first question is, "What's the bathroom situation at the campsite?"

It is the reason I absolutely do NOT spend more than an hour at a time on a boat. (And no, I can't just pee in the water. This is a public pee shy problem. I would like to just pee in the water, believe me, I really would.)

It is the reason I will not allow myself to drink anything for several hours before a long international flight, pushing myself to the point of dehydration so as to not have to pee during the nine-hour flight.

Once I was stuck on a flight and had to pee so bad by the end of it that I was in tears trying to push past people disembarking (who were instantly angry with me and cussing me out). I made four trips to the restroom on that flight without luck, despite how much pain I was in. Granted, those are not public restrooms but tight claustrophobia-inducing spaces and a sensation of movement are also no-pee zones for me.

This problem affects me at bars and restaurants, at concerts and sporting events, at all varieties of festivals, in people's houses, in shared hotel rooms, on planes and trains and boats and buses and campers, and in all manner of social situations.

I was recently in a very remote part of Michigan's Upper Peninsula sharing a cabin with seven other people and one bathroom. This bathroom was in the middle of the cabin, sharing walls with the kitchen, a bedroom, and both of the main living spaces. The walls were paper-thin and everyone could hear everything.

I actually thought I was going to die: that this was it for me, that I was just going to have to accept the fact that my bladder was going to rupture and urine would pour into my abdomen and the closest hospital was too far away to get me there in time before it killed me and that was seriously going to be the way that I died and I just would have to make peace with it.

Luckily there was a lodge nearby which was also the only source of WiFi, which meant I was taking a whole lot of trips over there "for WiFi."

And as for dating, spending the night at some new gentleman-friend's house and having to pee in the middle of the night? HA! This is a situation I have learned to avoid with skillful mastery, up to and including the failsafe "I'll just never date anyone ever." (It works!)

This is my life. This is my life every single day. This is what I think about when people start making plans to go somewhere, anywhere – what is the bathroom situation there? Will I be able to find one I can use? Will I be able to get away from the group so I can take care of my problem? New adventures are always met with that cold, crippling fear creeping up my spine: but how am I going to pee????

And I won't even get started on my IBS here. But, you know, I've got that going for me too.

So next time you're in the bathroom just yammering away on your cell phone – people actually do this! – and you notice someone has been in a stall for a really long time, get the out! And if you have a friend who seems to be using the bathroom at the bar a lot, ask if they want to go somewhere else!

I can't "fix" my problem without fixing my anxiety issues and hooo-lawdy that's gonna require some serious chicken-sacrificing Santeria stuff. But I can try to raise awareness of this relatively unknown and extremely misunderstood condition.

We are the Pee Shy of the world. We're here. We can't pee. Please get away from us.

From: Cosmopolitan​