Muddled feelings in relation to outreach of a sister in need...

Greetings and I'll try to be brief even as I so often fail in this regard...

A certain ambivalence felt in relation to outreach made in my direction from a sister who for long has regarded me as essentially untouchable. I'm a little at sea at present, 'happy' that 'relations' have been restored, but also wondering where my family was when I needed them. A CPTSD impacted one then, typically hiding out, commonly in the thrall of very unpleasant recollections that threaten to spiral out of control. That I haven't a police record remains a thing of wonder. Cool beans then - another day of liberty given I wasn't involved in some headline-grabbing mass shooting! I'm not so much passive/aggressive, but rather all but inert/RAGE potentiality on the hoof.

Concerning myself, a few short words are in order. Once an academic librarian as well as a public service reference librarian in a socioeconomically depressed rural community, it's a given that if someone expresses need, or stumbles towards articulating needs even vaguely in my direction, I'll engage them on what I hope will be their level consistent with a process of personal course correction, the identification of likely agencies, the filling out of appropriate forms, highlighting whom to contact, in what succession; i.e. the lot. Compassionate, engaged, reality-based intervention sustained as long as I could manage is what I did - or rather tried to do as long as I could.

Many people that passed within my orbit needed what might be termed a pickup social service or even faux parental intervention that wasn't going to be mounted by anyone else - and hence unless one is just absent conscience, the only choice is to do, to commit if you will to being that influence, that uber patient presence consistent with making the best of what was often a terrible situation. No training was strictly availed concerning doing such work, and if anything, the facilitation of a certain recreational disconnect and wholesome light touch constituted that which was esteemed in a service sense within the public library I more or less invisibly labored within.

I don't know - and without tallying a smorgasbord heaping of a certain sister's villainy (not really needed and a bit of a bore I suspect), a Multiple Sclerosis diagnosis and life chaos experienced prompts her to reconnect with me. Again, I don't know; i.e. I try to relate experiences of seeking SSDI and institutional and administrative hurdles to clear, frustrations characteristic of a certain process, how best to organize matters, filing all material on-time and as completely and as thoroughly as possible - all this quite eagerly 'consumed' if you will by my sister so-impacted, but I just can't suppress remembrances of how desperately little a certain someone could or would do for me back in the day. Now I'm Super Man?

I'm doing my best to carefully gather what I judge to be reasoned resources consistent with charting and informing a certain process to help her frame the experience of MS, as well as to constructively engage a multi-faceted process towards a different tomorrow not absent dignity. Judgement is reserved concerning past history - I simply work with what I have and quietly afford value consistent with what it is I do (or rather did) in a quasi-professional sense.

To converse with her is strange; i.e. simply to dedicate 15-20% of the conversation to aspects of my own life or quietly highlight how my function contrasts to others itself feels like oversharing or almost equates to a suspected outbound boundary violation. Weird territory then, almost playing a role vs. being a fully fleshed out human being given my particular specification apparently disqualified me from any such consideration across years. Sigh... Thanks for reading and listening...

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