My HuffPost Personal Essay on My Incontinence and Why I Write About Embarrassing Subjects

Writing is the most freeing and cathartic act I can think of to combat shame and fear, because I believe "you're only as sick as your secrets"

At the gorgeous New Jersey sculpture garden Grounds for Sculpture

I had a new essay published last week at HuffPost Personal about peeing because my boyfriend makes me laugh so hard. I actually wrote the first drafts of this essay in Spring 2022 during a virtual class with the wonderful Writing Pad, which offers virtual and LA-based fiction and nonfiction writing classes.

One of the things the teacher, Brett Paesl, emphasized to us is that an essay like this isn’t just about the surface topic, in my case, peeing unexpectedly due to laughter (which a reader wrote me is actually a specific form of incontinence called “giggle incontinence”). My essay is obviously about the peeing, but what it’s really about is my deeply loving relationship with my boyfriend and how this messy inconvenience is something that didn’t break us up in the way it might have if I was with another partner but instead something that made me appreciate my boyfriend even more.

I’ve written here before about how there’s no such thing as “too embarrassing” to write about, and I stand by that. I want to make it clear, though, that I didn’t write about my incontinence, or, in the past, my money woes or binge eating or relationship fails simply because they were embarrassing. I wrote about them because the act of writing helps me makes sense of my life. That’s been the case since I was a teenager and I expect it to hold true for the rest of my life. I’ve learned over the past three decades how to not only get paid for that writing and make it a part of my career, but how to craft my words in a way that will reach a wide audience.

There’s a misconception that writing about “private” topics is shameful and suspect. Case in point: I posted about my incontinence essay on TikTok with the caption, “Everything is content, right?” and someone commented along the lines of, “I miss when we had secrets.” I replied and said I’m more in the “you’re only as sick as your secrets” camp and it looks like they’ve now deleted their comment which seems to have deleted my reply as well. “You’re only as sick as your secrets” is a phrase popular in Alcoholics Anonymous (AA). I’m not in recovery, but I think it’s adaptable to writing as well (it’s also used in the excellent and catchy The Chicks song “Sleep at Night”).

The essential message behind someone saying “I miss when we had secrets” is that there’s something inherently problematic about writing publicly about our intimate, personal lives. I will forever disagree with that. I don’t think anyone should feel pressured to write or post or vlog or share more about themselves than they want to, but, conversely, I think those who do have the impulse to share their lives publicly, especially in a case like this, where I carefully crafted how I shared this story, have the right to do so.

This isn’t about foisting our stories onto other people’s lives. Nobody has to look at my TikTok account or read my or anyone else’s essay. Outlets like HuffPost Personal have such a wide audience because people are curious about other people. One of the ways we learn about our fellow humans and what they are going through by reading about those who may or may not have something in common with us. In my case, the reader who told me about “giggle incontinence” shared some information about potential cures I hadn’t come across before.

For me, writing isn’t about trauma dumping my life onto readers and then moving on. It’s a back-and-forth encounter with my readers, and while I don’t read typically internet comments on my work because I don’t think that would be conducive to my mental health or writing practice, I do read my emails, including hate mail.

I also had someone ask why I responded to the sexist, antisemitic hate mail I received recently, and again, it helped me process it, it helped take some of the viciousness out of receiving those emails to know that other people were appalled too. And even though I don’t want this to happen to anyone else, it was comforting to hear about other writers who’d also experienced unhinged, outsize responses to their work.

I don’t think confessional writing is right for everyone. Plenty of writers only want to write fiction and keep their personal life private. I’m not suggesting that writing about your life, or about the “embarrassing” parts of it, is for everyone or a necessary strategy for success as a writer or a person seeking catharsis. I’m saying that for those who do want to learn about themselves through the act of writing and publishing that writing, I not only applaud them, but am eager to read their words. I encourage writers to think about why they want to write so they can help get perspective on that desire and help guide the actual outcome of their writing (or help them decide what to write only about in a private diary or journal, or process some other way, such as therapy or visual art or a smash room or rage room).

So much of the content I consume here on Substack, on sites like HuffPost, and in books of essays and memoirs, is about people’s lives, about how they grew and discovered aspects of their inner selves through their cumulative experiences. Whether my essays get published or not, I always learn something about myself through the act of writing them.

To sum up, I hope you’ll check out my essay, which has the official long title of:

“The First Time I Peed On My Boyfriend's Floor, I Was Mortified. Then It Kept Happening.”

Finally, I want to make it clear that just because I write essays frequently and teach classes about writing them (see below) doesn’t mean mine always get accepted. I wrote this essay specifically tailored for The New York Times’ Modern Love section. I submitted it there, and nine months later, it got rejected. Then I kept on submitting it to publications where I thought it might be a good fit.

I’d stop thinking about it for a few months to focus on other writing, but always in the back of my mind, I wanted to get it published, partly because I’d spent money on the Writing Pad class, but even more so, because I was proud of it. I knew I’d taken a lot of care with how I portrayed the events and the lesson I learned from them, and wanted to get my words off of my laptop screen and before readers’ eyes. I’m so glad it finally found a home, and now I’m on to writing my next essay.

Want to write an essay to submit to your dream publication and learn from me in a small group virtual setting? Take my September 2024 Writing Personal Essays for Publication Class! Registration is limited to 15 people.

Want to read dozens of fascinating essays? Check out my Substack personal essay magazine, Open Secrets.

Looking for a sexy read? My collection of erotic stories Lap Dance Lust is out now print at Bookshop and Amazon (or your local bookstore or library) and ebook. Want to pen your own smut? Check out my craft guide How to Write Erotica in print at Bookshop and Amazon (or your local bookstore or library), ebook, and audio. See more of my erotica titles here.