After being separated from my biological family, I didn’t talk all that much. It wasn’t anything like selective mutism but everything and everyone was so new to me. If I did speak up, it was usually about something urgent in my five-year-old life.
One day my foster (then adoptive) mom went with a friend to look at campers. At that age and from an impoverished background, I had no idea what a camper even was. We had just eaten lunch then went to the lot. On the way there, I felt pressure in my lower tummy and felt the urge to pee. I know that I said something before we got out of the car.
“We’ll just be here for a little bit”, I was told.
“OK”
Little did I know that a “little bit” meant several models with a very chatty saleswoman. Still, I kept holding it in, thinking she would notice that I could not sit still for the feeling of discomfort.
“I really need to go”, I said tugging on her top.
“Please don’t interrupt the adults when they are speaking”
Finally, all my willpower could not hold the dam any longer. I felt the release and relief of incontinence then felt a warm sensation in the crotch of my pants. A puddle collected at my feet and onto the floor of the model we were standing in.
“This is so embarrassing’, she shrieked
“You should be ashamed of yourself”, she continued while wiping up the puddle with tissues from her purse.
I was embarrassed too and began to tear up after the initial shock wore off.
Reflection
I had several issues with incontinence growing up; especially when I was younger. Doctors that I have spoken with as an adult have explained that this was because my body was trying to adjust to having my left kidney removed. I am told that the remaining kidney hypertrophied or grew to accommodate post nephrectomy. The narrative assigned by my new caretakers however, indicated that I was only doing this out of anger and the need to control situations with “unacceptable behavior”. Each incident was met with same corporal punishment as everything else.
If this was the case, then why not send me in to see a child psychologist? Or better yet why not take me in to see our regular doctor and get me checked for that problem specifically? It is illogical and insane to think that me, knowing the punishment for each incident; that I would do it on purpose. Any issues were always solved with the cheapest and most brutal solution possible. What was worse was the need to share the incidents with friends and family to try and humiliate me into “better behavior”. It quickly resulted in ridicule and exclusion, as well as it giving social leverage to any abusers within earshot.