I had always blamed my bladder problems on mother, how she had made me wear diapers, limited my toilet access, shamed and belittled me over every accident and mistake. Could it be that it is really my fault after all? With her no longer around to blame, and my bladder issues staying just as bad as before, that left me with a conundrum that I didn’t want to face.
But I couldn’t admit that it is my fault. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to accept that there was something inherently wrong with me, rather than being broken because of something that had been done to me. Being the victim of circumstances beyond your control is easier than accepting that something is your issue alone to face.
“Annabelle, what are you doing undressed like that?” Aunt Lydia said.