Living with Autism and Incontinence: How One Person Found Acceptance, Comfort, and Freedom from Fear

Chris shares his story

I don’t remember a time before incontinence. It started when I was young, long before I understood what it meant or why my body wasn’t like everyone else’s. What I do remember is the feeling and constant fear of being found out. When you’re a kid, you don’t have the words to explain medical needs or sensory discomforts. You just try to survive each day without drawing attention. School was hard enough with autism. I already felt different, already struggled to understand social rules everyone else seemed to know instinctively. Adding incontinence on top of that made it feel like I was living a second secret life.   

There were days when I was teased, and moments when the wrong person noticed the wrong thing. I won’t go into details — those memories don’t deserve to take up more space, but they left marks that followed me into adulthood. I learned very early to deal with things alone. As I got older, I thought escaping school would mean escaping the anxiety. But adulthood came with its own challenges — jobs and long shifts, where leaving the room would draw attention. I doubted myself constantly. Was I capable? Reliable? Worth hiring? Worth keeping?   

What made it harder was that most products simply didn’t work for me. I dealt with leaks, constant discomfort and sensory irritation, and the constant feeling that everything I wore was designed for someone who wasn’t me. Every failure fed the belief that I was broken in some way physically and otherwise. Then I met the person who would become my spouse.   

I told them early. I didn’t want to build a relationship on hiding. I expected rejection or discomfort not because they’re unkind, but because that’s what I was conditioned to anticipate from people. Instead, they reacted with complete acceptance. It didn’t change how they saw me. It didn’t make me less lovable, less attractive, or less of a whole person. That was the first real shift. Not a cure. Not a miracle. Just the realization that being loved didn’t depend on perfection.  

Even then, daily life was still a balancing act. I was doing my best working and pushing through shame, pretending to be unbothered but there was always tension underneath. The fear never fully left. It was exhausting to live a life where you’re constantly planning exits, calculating bathroom opportunities, or worrying about clothing choices and sensory discomfort. At some point after trying different brands that didn't work I came across NorthShore. At first I didn’t expect anything new. I had tried so many things, and hope had become expensive. But what happened wasn’t dramatic. It was quiet, subtle, almost unremarkable at first. Things just… worked. The absorbency was better. The fit didn’t fight my senses. I wasn’t halfway through the day wondering whether I could trust what I was wearing. I didn’t realize how much mental space incontinence had taken from me until I suddenly began to get that space back.   

The turning point wasn’t one big moment, it was the days I went through work without thinking about incontinence at all. Not because I was hiding it better, but because I finally didn’t have to worry. It wasn’t freedom from needing protection, it was freedom from fear. My spouse noticed the difference before I did. I wasn’t as tense. I wasn’t constantly checking or scanning for exits. I wasn’t apologizing for simply existing. I’m not going to claim everything is perfect now. I still have medical needs. I still have autism. I still have days when anxiety shows up uninvited. And I’m still learning to see myself as enough not “enough despite,” just enough. But I’m not living in shame anymore.   

If I could speak to the younger version of myself, the one who thought they had to do everything alone, I’d tell them that I’m not defined by incontinence. I’m not defined by autism. I’m not defined by the people who bullied me when I was too young to defend myself. I am defined by the fact that I’ve kept going even on the days that were difficult and invisible to everyone else. And if someone out there reads this who is living with shame or hiding any part of their life because they’re afraid it makes them unlovable, I want them to know something I learned slowly: There is nothing wrong with needing help. There is nothing weak about wanting comfort. And there is nothing to be ashamed of in being human.  
 

 

Thank you for reading our customer stories. We try to remove the confusion and isolation surrounding incontinence to guide our audience into our understanding that "Incontinence is very common, often treatable, and regardless, very manageable." - Adam Greenberg, President & Founder of NorthShore NorthShore is grateful for the opportunity to share our customer stories and to provide products that allow users to live life to the fullest. Want to share a story?

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