As the party season is fast approaching, I can’t ignore the fear that’s creeping in and the worry of having my drink spiked – again.
Having narrowly escaped a very likely sexual assault or possibly worse, the Christmas scene just doesn’t excite me anymore.
Out of my group of friends we all thought I would be the least likely to ever have my drink tampered with.
Growing up, my mother would annoyingly tell me every single night not to drink from my
glass if I had left it unattended.
She would warn me to cover the mouth of the bottle and even the straw in the glass.
I did as I was told and then burned the ears off my own friends when we’d be out.
So when I ended up in a hospital in Barcelona three years ago and told there was some form of drug which contained morphine in my system it was a major shock for everyone.
While studying abroad I went to a bar despite not feeling the best for a friend’s birthday, just to show my face.
I stood with the only drink I had that night in my left hand at the bar while my body was turned to my right chatting to my friends.
Meanwhile, a man in his late 20s popped a pill over my shoulder and into my shandy.
We left the bar within the hour and the drug had clearly already began to take effect, unknown to me.
I was exhausted on the short walk back to my apartment with my pals and noticed my chew had slowed down while eating a sandwich back home.
And 13 hours later I woke up violently ill.
I knew I needed medical help by my skin colour, the bodily sensations and the fact I had to crawl to open the door.
Nurses only believed I hadn’t ingested a substance voluntarily when they saw my tears once they came back with the results of my blood and urine samples.
My heart broke for myself. I was so against drugs and felt disgusting that this was in my system.
I knew then that this man had every intention of hurting me.
I cried so hard, scared to think of what could have happened and the possibility of not waking up in my own bed that morning, or worse, not waking up at all.
I cried for other women who weren’t as lucky as me.
The culprit was someone I had met previously. I didn’t know him by name, only by face. And I didn’t know he was in the bar that night only for CCTV confirming what had happened.
Earlier this year the Dublin Rape Crisis Centre revealed in its 2018 annual report they received 14,000 calls reporting sexual offences.
Around 270 people contacted them each week – the majority of which were female, and more than half were first-time contacts.
The CSO states there has been a 54% increase in reports of sexual offences over the past four years.
Many will say it’s common sense to be cautious and check your drink but we should never have that worry in the first place.
The fear I feel is mixed with anger knowing women can’t go out and enjoy themselves without the possibility of not making it home safely during this year’s party season.
Please let my experience be a warning that you can never be too careful.
