I went out with a couple of acquaintances, and I had a lot to drink but it was by no means the most I’d ever had and I have never blacked out. We all went back to this guy’s apartment, he handed me a beer (in a bottle, but I don’t know if it was already open). After about two sips I remember nothing. I woke up around noon in the apartment, completely alone, and my tights were gone (not to mention I missed a therapy appointment and my therapist called my parents to ask if they knew where I was). I contacted the three people I really knew there, one only remembered me sleeping on the couch, one had already blacked out herself by then, and the other claimed he had left. I spent the better part of the day in the ER waiting for a nurse, she showed up about an hour before I had to leave for opening night for the play I’m in. Anyway I got the antibiotics and a home drug test (that came up positive for barbiturates) but didn’t do the full rape kit. It feels like most of the people I talk to aren’t taking me seriously. My parents are furious I prioritized my commitment to the show over obtaining dna evidence. My director is angry I was late because “there were people who lost family today and they didn’t ask for grace”. My therapist said something about “maybe this will be a wake-up call”. Another acquaintance (who has gone to AA for a while) who thinks I’m an alcoholic (which I might be) said “Don’t blame yourself, blame your disease”. I know I could have acted differently, but to be honest I don’t blame myself or my disease, I blame whoever put barbiturates in my drink and took off my tights. I don’t do recreational drugs other than alcohol and caffeine, and I’m not on any sedatives, so there’s no explanation for what was in my system. I’m not objecting to the claim that I’m an alcoholic, but to shift the blame from a predator to the mere act of drinking with people I thought I could trust just feels like such a stab. It all does. I had the scariest morning of my life and it seems like everyone is angry at me for it.