To be succinct and private… My incubator worked me for weeks to build rapport and trust with me in my younger days, to get me to tell her a something that she would ultimately, and immediately use and weaponize against me and others.
This wasnt the first time I tried to have a relationship with her, but it did finally open my eyes and become the last. In the many many decades since, I’ve not so much as acknowledge her existence when crossing paths.
My dad invited me to meet him at work, one day. It was a bad week for me and the new step-mother getting along, and so I wasn’t surprised. We took a little walk from the shop and stopped to chat.
“I’ve given you all 25 years of my life,” was when the conversation changed, mid-speech. “Now it’s time for me. It’s my time.”
It was how he invited me to go live with my mom, or just go. It began a bit of a formative time filled with stress and anger, and I daresay we’ve not been the same since.