A Toxic Kind Of Love

Everyone has that story. The story that shapes who you are, or who you will become. The story of facing adversity and over coming or succumbing to the darkness that humanity can be. I've seen darkness, I've lived in the darkness. And just when I thought my life was over, new life was breathed into my lungs and I began to thrive. This is my survival story. I guess I should say this is ONE of my survival stories, because sadly I have had more than one shitty experience in this life time. I can only hope that someone, or anyone, can relate and learn from the words that you are about to read. I can only hope that maybe, just maybe, I might be able to save someone.

20. What a care free age. Just out of Highschool, some begin to venture to college, or some choose to just work. Me, I was the working class kind. I tried college, but only because I was forced to. let's just say online college isn't my thing. I lasted three weeks and quit, continued to work two jobs. The money started coming in and I was feeling good. I decided that I would move out of my dads house, and live with some room mates in a tri-plex just down the road. This was my first true taste of freedom. Little did I know, it would be the last of my happiest moments in life, for at least the next 2 years.

So, I move in to this place, super nice, very expensive, BUT it's mine. I can do what I want, when I want and no one can tell me what I can and can not do. What a childish mindset, but hey I was 20. So as a youngling, I did what most kids do best, I began to do more drugs. Yes I said more. At that time, I was really only into weed, occasional Ecstasy, Xanax, LSD, shrooms, Adderall and cocaine. Now I wasn't doing these drugs every day and I was not over dosing or going crazy. I did them at home. I used Xanax when I was on my period, it helped me sleep. I tripped or rolled every I don't know, six months or so. I wasn't wild with it, but I was open to it. I was also very depressed. I was lonely, and I just wanted someone to love me. I ached for love, craved it more than any drug I had ever taken. I had so much love and compassion to give to someone, I was just looking for someone, anyone who was ready to receive that love. It was bubbling and bursting inside of me like a hot spring geyser ready to explode. It was at this point, that I met Ben.

I met Ben online, through some dating app, I can't even remember the name of it. Skout maybe? Anyway, we chatted and then started texting and right off of the bat, I had a very strange feeling about him. I thought he was kind of weird, but he was nice. He was cute, and I ignored my gut. Never ignore your gut. Ben was a troubled soul. He was into drugs, but not your conventional drugs. His drug of choice was dextromethorphan, DXM for short. DXM is commonly found in over the counter cough syrups or cough suppressants. Robitussin, Delsym, and Coricidin are the most common over the counter drugs with DXM as a main ingredient. It's called Robotripping. Taking too much DXM can lead to hallucinations, disorientation and a sense of flying. Other side effects include the loss of motor skills, like talking, or walking. I had only heard of kids in high school doing this, I had never known anyone who enjoyed it. So it was strange to me. BUT being the loving soul that I was, I decided to look past it and get to know him, I wanted to meet him.

First impressions are everything. My first impression of Ben was that this guy had to be mentally challenged or autistic. I do not mean that in an any way other than when I met him, he could barely talk. He had a hard time walking, and conveying himself. He seemed normal, did normal guy stuff, he liked to race motocross, and Nirvana was his jam. I later found out that night, that he was robotripping. It was odd to me, but I accepted it. He kept telling me I should do it with him, that I would like it and I very adamantly said no. We ended up having sex that night and it was awful. The DXM coursing through his veins made it almost impossible for him to get it up and keep it up and he was asleep by 9:00 PM. I being young and free, was usually up until midnight at the earliest. So, I laid there next to him while he slept. He was a violent sleeper, I was elbowed in the face, in the chest, kicked, punched you name it. Yet none of that deterred me from getting to know this man further. A huge mistake on my part.

We kept talking and decided to become exclusive. I stayed over frequently and eventually I essentially moved in. The dynamic in that house is very important to this story. Ben lived with his mother Susan. His mom had recently divorced his father, who was loaded apparently. They lived a meager life, in a mobile home in the country outside of city limits. They had their own land but the house was not in the best condition. His mother received a settlement of $20,000 from the divorce. She did not work and had not worked for many years. Ben did not have a job either. So when I moved in, I was the only person working. The $20,000 she received was supposed to be for her to pay bills and live off of until she found work. She, however did not use all of that money to support herself and Ben. Susan was a wild woman. She was in her late 40's but acted as if she was 70. She drank regularly, smoked weed and popped pills. Susan was Ben's greatest enabler. She bought him all of the cough syrup his little heart desired. She would even steal it if she had to. That 20 grand went to fast food, booze and drugs.

A few months go by and things are okay. While sober, Ben was the nicest, most thoughtful person I had ever been with. We would take walks in the countryside, by creeks and on hills. Taking in the beauty that is nature. He would reminisce about racing dirt bikes and he would share stories about growing up. Ben's father, Benji treated Susan and him like shit. Ben was very damaged soul, he had unresolved issues revolving around his father and he had a deep rooted hatred for the man. I do not know if what they said about Benji was true, but I do know that he was there. He was a father, he worked for his money and he didn't let anyone spend it on a whim. I feel like most of the hatred toward him was fueled out of greed.

It is crucial, to understand the mind set that Ben lived in. He felt scorned by his father for leaving his mother and moving to New York. He felt like Benji owed them more money, even though he left them the house and $20,000 and he felt like for the first time in a long time, he could act, say and do whatever he wanted, no matter the consequences. He idolized suicide and suicidal figures, he compared himself to Kurt Cobain on the regular. He, as himself was toxic. I should have seen those red flags and fled. Instead, I saw it as a challenge. A challenge to really understand Ben, a challenge to fix a broken man. A challenge that I thought only real love could conquer.

Please read Part 2 for more about my story.