I am 25 years old now, and still occassionally wet the bed. Up until the 6th grade, I was on and off wearing Goodnites Pull-Ups both to bed and to school. The kids in class knew. The neighbor kids I played with (and was antagonized by) knew. Everyone knew. They all made fun of me for it

I had bedwetting issues at night and ...other issues during the day. I sometimes had teachers escort me to the bathroom with a new Pull-Up in the middle of class. They tried to be discreet, but it was humiliating. My parents would call me a baby. They would really lean on the shame factor to try to get me to stop, despite having an education that taught them better. Because that's the way their parents handled things with them. It's like a hazing thing to some people

I remember one time I had plans to have a kid from school come over to watch a movie. This was an unusual event, as I typically had never had friends who weren't my cousins, never mind ahve one over. My parents still threatened me that if I had an accident while at grandma's the day before, they were going to leave my Pull-Ups out for him to see. I did end up having a minor accident. I didn't actually believe they would follow through with it though. They did.

When I got back from grandma's, the diapers were sitting right on the shelf for my friend to see. I started bawling, but sat down to watch the movie with my friend anyway. After he left, my parents blamed me for being the reason why my friend knew the diapers were for me. If I didn't cry, he might have not thought they were even mine, right? It's not like they were in my room or anything. Recalling this event, the amount of gaslighting leveraged in this one story actually surprises me a little. 

There was another instance where my parents were again annoyed that I had had another accident. They had me put the Pull-Up on, but then they locked the bathroom. When I said I had to use it, they literally told me that if I was going to mess my pants like a baby, I mind as well do it again. They forced me to use the Pull-Up. I went to my closet, cried, and eventually forced myself to use it (which was harder than you'd think at that time for someone who had accidents anyway). They had decided that 5th grade was enough and they were going to use whatever extreme methods necessary to make the problem stopped. They probably just ended up making things worse.