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I was drugged. This is my story.

It’s been a month since the incident, so it’s time for an update.

For those of you who are reading this for the first time, I was drugged at the end of April during a
mom’s night out in my town. I blacked out after two drinks (and a sip of my third),
lost four hours of memory, and took an ambulance ride to the hospital where I spent
most of the night. It was an incredibly traumatic experience – both for me who overdosed,
and for my husband, who thought I was dying.

Jeremy and I shared separate posts on the drugging from our own perspectives, in an
attempt to spread awareness – which went viral within a few days. News outlets reached out for interviews, which I initially declined because I was overwhelmed with the attention. Now that I’ve had time (and therapy!) to start processing what happened, I’m ready to talk.

Of course, when you share anything publicly online, you open yourself to criticism:
– “Why didn’t your friends call 911? Why didn’t they know you were drugged right away?”
– “Why did your husband drive you home? Why didn’t he take you straight to the ER if you were in such bad shape?”
– “Why were you there without your husband? Women shouldn’t go out alone.”
– “Did you get a drug test? Show me the results.”
– “Why would you trash the bar’s reputation? It’s not their fault.”
– “I heard you were already trashed when you showed up to the bar.”
– “Prove it, or it didn’t happen.”

These are just a few of the comments, and of course the negative is always more impactful than the positive. But I will say that 90% of the messages I’ve received have been supportive. We’ve had friends and family in the early days drop off dinner, host playdates, and offer support in so many other ways. I’ve had an outpouring of support from strangers. That’s what’s been such a blessing in the midst of this – seeing what a wonderful support network we have.

As a result of sharing my story, 5 more people have come forward who have had a similar experience at
the same establishment. One, the same night that it happened to me. The police also received a tip
regarding someone who was already under investigation for allegedly drugging women, being there
that night. The validity of this tip is yet to be confirmed by the police. I don’t know what to believe – but the police are taking this seriously, and following up on all leads.

As far as the bar is concerned, I am incredibly disappointed their response – or rather, the lack thereof. To this date, there has been no public statement made regarding the incident. They have not acknowledged that this even happened, but have given the perception that they are the victim in my story because I shared that it happened there, and frankly – that approach is mind-blowing to me.

SO – how am I now? Physically, I’m healed. Emotionally, I’m angry.
– When I blacked out, I fell face forward on the pavement and landed on my forehead. The hospital didn’t follow concussion protocol.
– It took begging from my husband to get the hospital to run a drug screen. It didn’t happen until I’d had an IV in my system, flushing out toxins for some time.
– He begged them to take my blood alcohol levels, and the response was “we don’t do that here”.
– I asked my primary doctor two weeks later to do a hair test – and their response was “there are no commercially available tests like that for date rape drugs”.

They simply weren’t equipped to handle this kind of situation.

The sad fact is that 1 in 6 women will be drugged in their lifetime, most commonly with ketamine, rohypnol, or GHB – and there is no reliable way to test for it. We lack national or even statewide testing standards and capabilities for these drugs, which results in victims being re-victimized after the fact. The police knew exactly what I was drugged with, after hearing only the first two minutes of my story, but my only proof will be if they can catch the person on camera. This is incredibly hard, even if there were adequate camera coverage.

It’s infuriating.

Why do we make it so easy to do this to people? Why do we put the burden of proof on the victims?
The police investigation is ongoing. With more victims coming forward, there is a lot of legwork
to do on their part – and while the person who did this to me may not see justice, I’m not letting this go.

I’m going yell like hell about this until something changes, because this is not just my story. This is the story of every woman (and MAN!) that has been drugged without their consent – who never asked for this to happen to them. Who doubted themselves, or were too afraid to come forward.

To you I say: I BELIEVE YOU, it is not your fault, and I will fight for you.

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Welcome to Smiedendipity!

When I was younger, I’d been lucky enough to live within pretty close distance of my closest friends and family.  Then life happened – I moved to Georgia after college for a few years, then Florida, then back to Michigan.  Shortly after I moved back to the mitten, I married my college sweetheart + gained a pretty sweet last name + gained his whole family as well.  So between the friends we’ve gathered across the country, and family who live all over, we have a lot of people we want to keep in touch with!  I’m hoping that this blog will serve as a way for us to share what we’re up to – house projects, creative projects, life news (ie. pictures of our cat, whatever).  Thanks for reading!

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