An Unknown Road to an Unknown Destination
I am 21 years old, and my life feels like it's at a dead end. We are two drunk girls with two unknown men, driving to an uncharted destination.
We don’t even know the names of the men we’re with. We’re so drunk that we accepted a ride home from strangers without even remembering their names. We are a mess. At least, I know I am.
We’re singing and cracking jokes while the men continue driving. We were promised a ride home, but even in my drunk state, I realize the road is getting darker and darker, and we are not heading home. We are somewhere outside the city on a path I don’t recognize.
Chișinău, the capital of the Republic of Moldova, my birthplace, might not be the most illuminated city in the world, but it’s brighter than the village roads in Moldova. You know you’re out of the capital when the roads get dark, silent, unpopulated.
Despite my drunkenness, I can sense we’re out of the capital. I was born and raised there, so I know when we’re out of the city. We are heading to an unknown destination.
“Where are you driving?” I ask the driver. He looks at me in the rearview mirror with an ironic smile. He doesn’t answer. “Where are you driving?” I ask again. Still no response.
Praying for Help
My friend realizes something is wrong. She is also drunk, but she’s not stupid. None of us is. In fact, we are always “the smart ones” from the room. We are colleagues and best friends. We traveled to America together with Work and Travel. We lived together for four months. We know we can accomplish anything when we are together. We are kind of a dream team, though a toxic one.
I try to stay calm, even though the alcohol in my system isn’t helping. I am in the back seat with my closest friend. She sees me trying to open the door—just in case. If these men are joking and have no bad intentions, the doors won’t be locked, I think. But they are.
This is the moment I panic. My heart starts pounding faster and faster, rising to my throat, suffocating my breaths. I try to keep calm while my friend starts yelling and forcing the doors. “I’d better jump,” she yells. “Open the doors!”
The men laugh with an evil glee, but keep driving. The car heads down a dark, silent road.
“God help us!” I find myself saying instinctively, repeating it as I realize I haven’t asked God for help in a long time. I kind of forgot about God when my life turned into a continuous party. I started to believe that God had nothing to do with my life. I was too busy, to have time for God. I lived in my own world where I could do anything I wanted, without necessarily having God on my side.
An End or a Beginning?
My mother raised me with God. There was no Sunday in my childhood when we didn’t go to church. My mom would wake us up at 6 AM on Sundays so we wouldn’t miss the beginning of the service. She made us read the Bible and live by it. I grew up with God, but I turned to hate religion when I gained the freedom to live independently.
Permitting myself to be free was my mother’s despair. In fact, why did I start to drink with my best friend? Because in a culture where drinking equals belonging, it made me feel accepted. Being a bullied child and then becoming "cool" even after my teenage years was empowering. Drinking in a post-soviet country still means belonging. If you don’t drink with us, what are you doing here?
“God help us,” I kept repeating like I was possessed. Suddenly, I felt a panic attack coming on. I couldn’t breathe anymore. My heart climbed to my throat, blocking my airways. My face turned red. I felt like I was dying.
“Stop the car! Open the door!” my friend yelled, sensing that something was seriously wrong. “Stop the car!” she shouted, “She’s going to die!”
The men finally stopped the car. We got out, gasping for fresh air. “You are crazy,” one of the men said. They got back into the car and drove off, leaving us in the middle of nowhere. We were free, but lost.
A New Beginning
My friend called someone to pick us up. I was still in shock. We could have been molested, sexually assaulted, or worse. But we were free. That night was a turning point in my life.
I decided to stop living a life that wasn’t mine. I knew I had to find my purpose. The panic attack was God’s way of saving us. From that moment, I chose to dedicate myself to finding my purpose. I applied for a master’s degree in Health Psychology at one of Romania’s best universities and got accepted. I began my journey of discovering my purpose. After years of searching, traveling the world and finding my place in it, I found also my way to creating art. But that is another story to share.
Remarkably, I have never had another panic attack since that night. It was as though a divine hand reached down to guide me out of the darkness and into a path of self-discovery and purpose.
I am truly convinced that we find our paths and purpose when we earnestly look for them.
A beginning doesn’t always have to start with a traumatic experience. All it needs is intensive search and trust. Trust that God, the Universe, or whatever higher power you believe in loves us and is there whenever we call upon it. It wants us to be happy and to become who we are meant to be.
We are God’s beloved projects, as I once heard in a podcast. I loved this idea and have never forgotten it.
Trust God and search for your purpose. Have you already found yours? Is there a story that served as a catalyst for a new beginning?