I kind of have trauma because my mother abused me for wetting the bed

Doubt me if you will but this is a true story.

My mother has always had a problematic personality, she has narcissistic traits and overall she just loves drama and can’t take it when things are good and calm. When I was around 13, I was still having issues with bedwetting (I wasn’t doing it on purpose and I don’t have any medical issues, every single doctor ever said I’d just grow out of it and that I probably had an underdeveloped bladder). Because of that, I had to wear those pull-ups, more specifically Goodnites, and pretty much every morning they’d be wet. However sometimes, my accidents were really big and my pull-ups would leak and make a bit of a mess of my sheets, although this didn’t happen often, it happened enough that my mother often brought it up as an argument that I was being lazy (which doesn’t make any sense but I guess this is just how her logic works). She’d often threaten to tell all my friends that I was still wetting the bed, including a girl I had a big crush on. She’d also say “diapers” a lot instead of “pull-ups” or “Goodnites” to embarrass me more. Technically pull-ups are diapers, but calling them “diapers” was unnecessary imo. She’d also make other vague threats that she’d find ways to better “motivate” me to stop. She also would get a kick out of making me feel embarrassed, like when she’d tell her sisters or her colleagues at work that I was still wetting the bed and wearing pull-ups.

*My dad isn’t in the picture btw*

All of this is pretty standard for teenage bedwetters, none of this was abusive until this next part. One night we were in the car driving back from a family dinner and the restaurant was quite far away from home. I realized about halfway there that I had to pee, so I asked my mom if we could stop by a gas station or something but she said no. I told her it was urgent, but she just said that we’d be home in 45 mins and that I’d make us get home even later if we stopped. You guessed it, in the end I couldn’t hold it and I peed my pants in the car. My mother was livid and yelled at me the whole way home. I wanted to contest by saying that I told her I needed to go but I had a very submissive personality at that age so she managed to convince me that it was my fault and I didn’t argue further. When we got home she kept yelling at me, but the next morning when I was taking off my wet pull-up and was about to put on my boxers, she stopped me and said that if I was going to have accidents ALL the time, I should be equipped with the right underwear and then she handed me one of my Goodnites. I pleaded with her that it was just one accident and I didn’t need diapers but she kept on telling me that I clearly needed to wear them in the day too and eventually I caved and put it on.

From then on for almost 3 months, my mom made me wear pull-ups day and night, yes even at school. She started calling me “diaper boy”. The punishment started out like that for about a week but then she slowly began escalating. Eventually she forbade me from using the bathroom since “babies use their diapers” and she’d coo in my face, so I had to use my pull-ups. I did manage to secretly use the bathrooms at school and use the toilets there, but it happened at times that I did have a real accident at school, in which case I’d bring a spare Goodnite with me to school and change myself in the bathroom. Whenever she saw I was getting used to the conditions I was in, she’d escalate the punishment. For example, after a while, she forbade me from changing my own diapers and only she was allowed to do so. She’d actually put me on the ground and change my pull-up like a toddler. Then once I got comfortable with that, she’d stick a pacifier in my mouth any time I tried to contest any sort of unfair treatment, although she luckily would only do this at home. That wasn’t even done as a way to humiliate me, it was done to silence me and for control, Eventually I was given “diaper checks” so she could see if I wet or soiled myself, even in public, sometimes saying out loud what she was doing so that people close to us could hear. But she wouldn’t do that if there were a lot of people around, only with max 3 people in proximity. It happened a couple times where one of the people around intervened saying I was too old to be in diapers, despite me looking younger than my actual age, and she’s just tell them that I had a medical issue and to mind their own business. I of course never had the courage to speak up for myself. One time we were in a clothing store and I saw a cute girl my age. I think my mother could tell I was attracted to her because I got really quiet, so lifted the bottom of my shirt a little bit to reveal the waistband of my pull-up and said out loud “did you have an accident sweetie?” I was mortified and I could feel my face getting red. I looked up and saw the girl giggle a little bit and walk away. One time I was getting ready for school and was resisting the diaper change and was being particularly fussy. She didn’t like that one bit, so she shoved a pacifier in my mouth then pulled me over her lap and spanked me while I was wearing my wet Goodnite from the night before. All things considered, it was a light spanking, my butt was barely even red and it was only a few slaps, but it was the embarrassment that did it. Throughout the months, if I was visibly distressed she’d just tell me that I was overreacting and she’d gaslight me in other ways. The atmosphere during this time wasn’t kinky or any of that other stuff, it was more so just control, domination and coercion.

During the entire punishment, I managed to keep all of this hidden from my friends and nobody ever found out about what I was living at home since I was extremely careful and good at keeping it secret (although I did have many close calls of being exposed at school or in public), like for gym class I’d change in the stall. Also my school was very understaffed and underfunded, and I was a quiet kid that didn’t make any waves so it was kind of easy to not draw attention to myself. Also if you’re wondering why I didn’t seek help from a teacher or anything, I feared what my mom would do, but I was also just so ashamed of being a bedwetter at my age that I’d never have been able to admit any of it. After a while, I assume my mother got bored of humiliating me and couldn’t escalate further without doing anything that was actually illegal, so she stopped the punishment, but I still had to be “protected” at night. Eventually I stopped wetting the bed and wearing Goodnites when I was 15.

Fast forward to today, I’m turning 20 very soon and what I went through left me with terrible social anxiety as a result. I have decided to seek therapy and asked my mother to pay for it, since in my mind she’s the main cause for me needing therapy in the first place, but she was insulted that I even asked her since she already raised me and fed me and “changed my diapers until I was 14”. She also doesn’t fully believe in therapy, not completely against it, but doesn’t really think it works. I stressed that I’m in college and don’t have the means to pay for therapy, but she still called me selfish for even asking. Also my college doesn’t have free student therapy for anyone wondering. I’m telling this story now because I now know how unfairly I was treated, of course I kind of knew while it was happening too but my mom did a great job at convincing me otherwise.