A Fear of Shared Toilets

Having a condition that means sometimes you’re constantly running to a toilet can be challenging at the best of times. It’s worse when you have a fear of public toilets. I’m not sure if it’s my anxiety, or just pickiness, but I’ve never liked sharing toilets. I’m scared of people hearing me on the toilet, even if it’s not a number 2. I hate the idea of sharing a toilet, but public toilets are often unclean, covered in suspicious liquid, toilet roll, overflowing bins. The cleanest toilets I’ve ever shared have actually been in the gastro unit in hospital; a distinct fear of C-Diff infections [that could kill people with IBD] combined with the fact every patient has the same dislike of filthy toilets, results in sparkling toilets that are treated with respect.

I refused to go to the toilet when my relationship with my boyfriend started. My first visit to the toilet in his flat was months into the relationship, by no fault of his own. My boyfriend shares his flat, so the toilet is shared, and I don’t like inconveniencing people when I visit them. Plus, they would know that I was using the toilet. Which is shameful. Obviously. [/s]. I had to get over this fear when I became ill with my Crohn’s, otherwise I’d never get the chance to see him. It was hard work. Here is the ‘Leanne’s guide to peeing at someone’s house’. Enjoy.

Stage One:  Flatmate isn’t in. Boyfriend hiding in bedroom [furthest from toilet].
Stage Two: When nobody is in the living room [the room closest to the bathroom].
Stage Three:  Eventually when boyfriend distracts flatmate who is sitting in living room.
Stage Four: When you get out of hospital and are very very ill, just whenever you need the toilet.

Congratulations! You’ve finally done it.

It was a very strange process that took nearly a year for me to get used to. Maybe if I didn’t suddenly develop bowel problems, I’d still be on stage 1. Seriously.

Having a fear of public toilets, though, makes it a lot harder to deal with my Crohn’s, even harder than trying to spend time with my boyfriend. It means that when I’m flaring, I isolate myself to my room and en-suite toilet, instead of going on with my life, going to lectures at university, going into town, and importantly, for one month last year, for doing my job.

It’s very draining.

The problem is, unfortunately, if I try to use a disabled bathroom, you can bet I’d get some looks, or some bright spark thinking they’re saving the real disableds by telling me that I’m not entitled to use that toilet just because I’m not in a wheelchair, because my disability isn’t visible.

For one, I hate this saviour complex that many people hold. If someone in a wheelchair is waiting to use a disabled bathroom, they likely aren’t going to grudge anyone using the bathroom anymore than someone waiting for a regular cubicle in a shared toilet. Whereas, the fully able-bodied ‘can-i-see-the-manager’ character will grudge you, horrifically. Is this another form of ableism? That the disabled person can’t stand up for themselves, so you need to stand up for them? It’s offensive and unnecessary.

That’s why I’m grateful for the work being done by Crohn’s and Colitis UK to increase the number of ‘Not all disabilities are visible’ stickers on disabled toilet doors. It’s good: I see them in some pubs, some supermarkets. But there are still lots of toilets that haven’t got these markings on them; or people are still ignorant to this fact.

It’s a shame, but until there is less stigma around using a toilet that isn’t mine, you’ll find my anxious flaring ass in my flat. Or maybe my boyfriend’s. If his flatmate isn’t in.