The time I got Roofied….
Who am I? Why I here? How did I get to this point in my life?
These were questions I asked myself the morning after. The morning after I went to a local club with a group of people I called friends. They by no means embodied the definition of a friend. No, these “friends” were merely people I drove with to a designated location.
At seventeen, hurt and confusion were the primary residents of my heart. They were my roomies and accompanied me everywhere I went. The confusion, why can’t I be better, why is everyone else better than me? Hurt manifested after a ripple effect of unmet expectations. Anger was what was left in the aftermath. Angry at God, others, but mostly myself. When you don’t value yourself, you don’t protect yourself – this only leaves you vulnerable and susceptible to more hurt and pain. This is what happened to me.
At the club, I felt super cute. No doubt, wearing high heels and something embarrassingly tight (I cringe now). Someone offered me a drink. Internally, I cheered someone thinks I’m pretty. He left and remember grinning a stupid grin. Stupid because it’s like getting excited about the seconds leading up to a head on collision. What’s about to happen is devastating and in no way shape or form, a good time.
He came back with a drink in hand. I didn’t really care what it was, it was free and it was alcohol. So, whatever it was – it was good enough for me. Feeling fortunate with my complimentary refreshment and attention, I began sipping and dancing the night away.
What I consider a Holy Spirit moment (yes, God is at bars – but He isn’t there to drink, He comes to save and salvage the lost wherever the lost may be) I felt compelled to look down in my drink. What I found there wasn’t only concoction of ice and liquid. It was powder – Rohypnol was commonly used at the time. I saw a yet-to-be-dissolved powder squirreling around my “lucky” free drink.
A wave of much-needed fear pulled back into reality. Feeling nauseous and light-headed, I began searching for my
So, with no friends, and some unknown substance coursing inside me, I began looking for a way home.
I don’t know how I got home. I honestly don’t remember.
What I do remember is the next day. I felt so ashamed. I knew what could have happened to me, what I felt like should have happened to me. I felt lost and alone.
Feeling lost is disorienting.
These questions reverberated in my mind: What am I doing? How did I get here? Where am I?
I didn’t get answers that day, but what I did firmly know is that this wasn’t what God had in mind for my life. This life, the life of accepting drinks from strangers, a life of compromises and poor choices was going to result in death and destruction.
Sometimes just knowing you are lost is part of being found.
Being lost is painful. We live in a generation of lost men and women. Not knowing who they are, why they are here, or what they are supposed to do.
Part of my hope with Vision Casting is to be a guide for hurting Millennial women (ages 20-35) to find refuge in their pain.
This is one story that may or may not go in the book.
If you have a story that you feel like you would like to share in the book about feeling lost…would you email it to me? I would protect and safeguard your story with care. I can either change your name or give you credit. My email address is melissa at melissacclark dot com.
One of my favorite scriptures is Revelations 12:11 it says that we overcome by the blood of the Lamb and the word of our testimony.
I used to be embarrassed by my past. In my embarrassment, I would hide or edit these parts of my history even from those I loved the most.
It isn’t comfortable sharing these times of being lost and in pain. By bringing the darkness and shame in the light, I find redemption and restoration. Making any embarrassment worth it. I hope you can too.