"Acceptance Is Freedom" A Customer’s Story of Living a Full Life with Incontinence

I was 17 when my life took a turn I never expected. A personal incident left me with nerve damage that caused urinary incontinence. At that age, it felt like my world was ending. I started isolating myself, avoiding my friends, and hiding from anything that reminded me of who I used to be. I found myself navigating both emotional and physical pain, all while trying to figure out who I was in a world that suddenly felt so cold.  

Doctors prescribed pills meant to prevent the leaking, but I couldn’t bring myself to take them. I remember thinking, ‘if my body is trying to release something, what happens when I stop it?’ It felt unnatural, so I decided to manage things on my own. For years, I dealt with constant bedwetting and moments of deep shame. I didn’t start wearing diapers full time until I was 23, and even then, it took me a long time to see them as a part of me rather than a symbol of weakness.  

Depression hit hard during those years. I dropped out of college and tried to keep a low profile, working different jobs while silently carrying the weight of my condition. Eventually, I found myself in Rhode Island, trying to start over. I worked as an operations manager in retail—constantly on my feet, constantly in motion. Managing incontinence in that environment was difficult. One day, I had an accident on the job. My hands were shaking, and my chest felt tight from embarrassment. I pulled aside a close co-worker and told him I needed to step off the floor to change because I had a medical condition. To my surprise, he was kind and understanding. That small act of compassion changed everything.  

Around that same time, I met Angie—a friend who would become like family to me. Angie and I grew close over the years, and she eventually invited me to join her and her husband, Josue, on a trip to the Dominican Republic. I wanted to go so badly, but I was terrified. How could I travel with friends while managing something so personal? I finally sat Angie down and told her the truth—that I live with urinary incontinence and rely on adult diapers to manage it. At first, she misunderstood and thought I was talking about something else. But once I explained, she immediately reassured me that she didn’t judge me at all. Angie, being a CNA, even asked if there was a surgery or treatment that could help. I told her I preferred to manage it my own way—without medical intervention. Her support was unconditional.  

Josue, however, didn’t know yet. For a long time, I didn’t know how to tell him. One day, he asked to talk privately. He told me that he and Angie truly saw me as family and wanted me to join them on the trip. I started shaking, trying to find the right words, and eventually pulled up a Wikipedia article about urinary incontinence to explain. Josue looked confused—it was in English, and he mostly speaks Spanish. Then he looked up and asked, “Why? Because you wear diapers?”  

I froze. I didn’t know how he knew. That’s when he explained that one day, when he borrowed my car, he had popped the trunk and noticed a case of adult diapers inside. He had been curious but never said anything until now. Josue went on to tell me that he didn’t care—that I had their full support and that they loved me no matter what. He even said, “Why don’t you stay over tonight? Bring whatever supplies you need. You’re family.”

That moment broke me—in a good way. For years, I had been carrying shame, fear, and loneliness. And here were two people showing me love without conditions. That night changed how I saw myself. I realized that acceptance doesn’t always come from where you expect it, but when it does, it can heal years of pain.  

We went on that trip to the Dominican Republic together. It was beautiful and freeing. About halfway through, I ran out of diapers. I was panicking, not sure how to explain it, but Josue noticed and simply said, “Don’t worry, I got you.” He went to the store and bought some for me without hesitation. That act—so small yet so powerful—showed me that I didn’t have to hide anymore. I could live my life openly, comfortably, and proudly.  

After that trip, Angie was the one who helped me take the next big step in my life. She told me about a local school offering dental assistant classes. I was tired of retail and wanted a career where I could make a difference, so I enrolled. 

Three years ago, I graduated from dental assisting school—and that decision changed everything. I not only found a new purpose but also began taking better care of myself. Back then, I was struggling with obesity and health issues, but through discipline and determination, I lost 110 pounds. Becoming a dental assistant didn’t just improve my health; it changed my mindset. I realized I could transform pain into passion.  

Today, I’m 35 and working full time as a dental assistant at a pediatric community health center. Life is busy—I’m back in college, transferring my credits and pursuing a cybersecurity degree while balancing a demanding full-time job. But for the first time in my life, I’m doing it all without worry. I’ve learned that when you embrace your true self, everything else falls into place.

My days are full, but so is my heart.  

Every day, I put on my scrubs and step into my role as a dental assistant—a small hero in a child’s world. I comfort kids who are scared, anxious, or crying, helping them feel safe and brave in that big chair. Many of them come in trembling, and by the time they leave, they’re smiling. What they don’t see is that while I’m helping them conquer their fears, I’m also quietly managing my own challenges. I’ve learned how to plan ahead, stay calm, and never let my condition interfere with the compassion I give to others. That’s the part of being a hero most people don’t notice—the quiet strength it takes to show up for others, even when your own battles never stop.  

If I could talk to my 17-year-old self, I’d tell him this: You’re going to make it. The pain you feel now will become the foundation of your strength. You’ll meet people who see you, who love you, and who remind you that nothing about you is shameful. Every challenge, every fall, every tear—it all leads to growth.  

Living with incontinence taught me that acceptance is freedom. It showed me that the people who truly matter will never love you less for what you wear—they’ll love you more for who you are.

 

Thank you for reading our customer stories. NorthShore works to remove the confusion and isolation surrounding incontinence, helping individuals better understand that “incontinence is very common, often treatable, and regardless, very manageable.” — Adam Greenberg, President & Founder of NorthShore We are grateful for the opportunity to share these journeys and provide products that help people live life to the fullest. Learn more about sharing your story through the NorthShore Hero Club. Have a story to share? Submit it below to help others feel less alone.

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