TODAY I close my eyes tightly enough, I can still remember the rush of euphoria that hit me the first time I took MDMA (a.k.a. ecstasy) at the age of 16. It was 1998, and my best friend and I had snuck out of her house in Port Credit, Ont., and taken the GO train to downtown Toronto. There, we loaded ourselves onto a magical school bus to attend our first rave. As we arrived in the middle of nowhere, we saw a sea of bodies clad in fun fur, tightly gripping glow sticks and swaying to thumping bass lines. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Everyone was welcoming and inviting, happy to share a warm embrace—or some of their favourite party favours, “to help keep the vibe alive.”
IF 36
CHATELAINE • MARCH/APRIL 2022
Soon after we arrived, a stranger handed me a small purple pill with a tiny star detail pressed into the top, which I immediately gulped down. I should have been scared but, for whatever reason, I wasn’t. Within hours—maybe even minutes?—I felt all of the pent-up anger that I couldn’t quite place, and all of the displaced sadness I harboured for not being the perfect kid my parents wanted, slowly ease out of my body. For the first time in a long time, I felt happy and connected to myself.
