I’m sitting here on the couch with a very full bladder. Painfully full in fact. Not quite cramping, but uncomfortably pressing.
Almost 7 years I’ve been required to ask for permission to use the bathroom. 7 years of peeing is a LOT of asking. I’d do the math, multiplying how often the average woman urinates in a day times 365 days times 7 years but that’s too much thinking on a full bladder. I’m content with “a lot” as an answer.
I still find it to be a humiliating experience.
Not every time. Sometimes I can just breeze into wherever he is and do the required “May I go the bathroom please Sir?”, wait for the approval and be on my merry way. But even then, even when I’m not so desperate to avoid feeling that flush of humiliation that I’m sitting here uncomfortable instead, even when it’s ‘breezy’, it’s not easy. It’s just easier.
I remember participating in a conversation some time ago about humiliation and stating with confidence that over time what was once humiliating ceases to be. That not only does repetition dull the edge, there is also the added caveat that if I’m just doing as I’m told, why would I find humiliation in being obedient?
Wrong, wrong wrong.
This edge never seems to dull. I still experience a range of emotions and reactions to this one single rule. I get angry. I get resentful. I get stubborn. I get sneaky. I get defiant. I get argumentative. I get resigned. I have short-lived glimmers of acceptance. I have even shorter-lived moments of appreciation.
Mostly though I’m just humiliated. Still.
Sadly, this isn’t like the no-chocolate rule where, if I’m not willing to subject myself to the degradation of begging for a morsel of chocolate, I simply go without and opt to retain my dignity. Because urinating (or.. you know.. the “other thing”) is not optional.
As evidenced by the fact that I’m dangerously close to pissing on his new couch, lol.
I’ve tried that route, too. The ol’ “I’ll just hold it until he has to give in” trick. Newsflash: He can outstubborn me. And he doesn’t have to give in. He doesn’t care if I piss my pants, wet the bed, or stubborn myself into a uti. I’ll ask, and I’ll ask properly. The end.
I just wish I could get over it already. I can accept other tidbits of control so why not this one? Even writing this out makes me feel dumb.
*sigh* I gotta pee. Brb.