I can easily be up four or five times in the night, needing a wee (Picture: Emma Heaslewood)

Flushing the toilet, I washed my hands, then collapsed into bed, exhausted.

It was the end of another full-on day with my two children, five and two, and I couldn’t wait to finally close my eyes.

Yet, within five minutes, I was throwing back the duvet, pulling myself back to my feet, heading, once more, to the toilet.

This was just the start of my numerous night-time visits to the loo.

As someone with an overactive bladder, I can easily be up four or five times in the night, needing a wee.

Although it sounds like a small problem, or minor inconvenience, it impacts my whole life.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve gone to the toilet before I leave the house, even when I don’t need it, and checked where the toilets are whenever I go somewhere new.

But it was only in secondary school that I realised not all of my peers would need a wee every single break and lunch – then, minutes later, feel the urge in the middle of class.

I even had to walk out of a lesson on multiple occasions when the teacher said I couldn’t go. I was desperately trying not to have an accident.

My constant need to do a wee affected every single part of my life.

If I was out with friends, whether that be a long walk or even if I was caught short between pubs, I’d often have to find a quiet place to squat down. Most understood, but a few would look at me in shock.

‘Can you not just keep it in?’ they’d ask, horrified. But I couldn’t.

At first, I was just given medication and told to do pelvic floor exercises (Picture: Emma Heaslewood)

When I left school and did an apprenticeship in teaching, then got my first job, I worried that my bosses would think I was skiving, as I was constantly up and down to the toilet.

If I was ill or hungover, I’d have to put towels down over the bathroom floor because whenever I’d vomit, I couldn’t stop myself weeing at the same time.

It just consumed me.

The only thing it didn’t affect was my relationships with men. I always told them I needed to wee a lot and actually, I found they were generally more understanding than women. ‘It’s just going to the toilet,’ they’d shrug.

By the time I hit my early 20s, I knew this wasn’t right and went to my GP. Thankfully, they took me seriously and referred me to the urology department of my local hospital.

At first, I was just given medication and told to do pelvic floor exercises.

But when I returned after that didn’t help, a different nurse shook her head. ‘At your age, with no children, there is clearly an underlying problem. We’ll send you for tests.’ I nodded, glad they were listening.

These tests weren’t particularly pleasant or dignified. I had to have a catheter inserted and doctors then filled my bladder, asking me to let them know when I needed the toilet.

‘Now,’ I said, almost immediately.

With my toilet downstairs, I’d grope my way down the steps five times a night, terrified I was going to fall down

It was then I was diagnosed with an overactive bladder – a condition that causes sufferers to feel sudden and frequent urges to urinate, which can be difficult to control.

I cannot tell you the relief I felt. It wasn’t just me – it was an actual condition. A condition that could be treated.

They advised me to have Botox injected into my bladder, which relieves symptoms by relaxing the organ – again, not particularly comfortable. But it was worth it.

I instantly noticed a huge difference. Rather than getting up three, four, even five times, in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, I was only getting up once.

Sometimes I even slept through – I felt incredible.

I could get in the car for 15 minutes and not panic about how bad the traffic was going to be. I could finally relax.

Then, I fell pregnant with my partner. Not only had I been dreading the effect this would have on my condition – the stories of the pressure unborn babies put on your bladder were rife amongst my friends who already had children – but it also meant I couldn’t have my second Botox injection.

I resigned myself to wearing incontinence pants when I went to festivals (Picture: Emma Heaslewood)

It was unbearable. With my toilet downstairs, I’d grope my way down the steps five times a night, terrified I was going to fall down. At work, I was up and down all the time.

When I had my son, things got even worse. I’d leak and dribble all the time. I couldn’t even go out with my friends for a dance without having an accident.

I felt so uncomfortable – constantly embarrassed and conscious.

I was still on the waiting list for my second Botox injection when I fell pregnant with my second child.

Even when I did have my second injection earlier this year, it wasn’t as effective as the first one had been. It helped with the urgency of needing to go there and then – but I still needed a wee all the time!

Fed up of missing out, I resigned myself to wearing incontinence pants when I went to festivals with friends. I did so with a complete feeling of defeat – but otherwise, I simply couldn’t go to these places, where you had to queue for hours to just go to the toilet.

And it was certainly better than wetting myself and having to carry around clean underwear to get changed into.

Thankfully, I have a RADAR key – a key that can open more than 10,000 disabled toilets across the UK – so at least when I’m shopping or out in a bar, I can gain access to the disabled toilets.

Even then, people will often give me funny looks or even stop and question me, because on the outside, I look like any other healthy 30-something woman. ‘Should you really be using those?’ they’ll pry.

It’s so frustrating, I’ve even stopped answering them – instead just pointing at the sign that says, ‘Not all disabilities are visible’, which often shuts them up.

It’s a horrible situation to be in, and is why I’m supporting the campaign by Jude – the UK’s leading bladder care company – which is calling on the Government to recognise that inadequate toilet provision is a public health crisis impacting our nation’s physical and mental health. 

According to Jude’s research, 80% of people reported a lack of public toilets in their area.

A worrying 67% of women and 50% of men have had to dehydrate themselves on purpose as a direct result of no toilet access, while 41% felt that denying the urge to wee or deliberately dehydrating themselves has resulted in health issues like Urinary Tract Infections (UTIs), bladder and kidney problems.

I’ve done the same myself – not allowed myself to drink when I knew I wouldn’t have access to a toilet. It’s a horrible thing to feel you have to do.

For anyone else going through this, please go to your GP, and don’t leave until they take you seriously. There is support and treatment out there.

And for everyone else, please be kind. Invisible illnesses do exist and they’re no wee problem.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing [email protected]. 

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I couldn’t even go out with my friends for a dance without having an accident.