Skin and Blister

When things went wrong with Herrad she was fighting to keep her life going. Herrad has a master’s degree in criminology and wanted to use the training for something- unpaid help on someone else’s project would have done- just to get her back in the world.
My sister was working in a related field and Herrad asked if she could help her. My sister did something she had never done to me before- she bullshitted. I was gutted. Not because she didn’t want to help but because she could not say why.
I have symptoms of bi-polar disease (I withdrew from treatment before diagnosis was confirmed) which I can live with. I have suffered from severe depression but the manic phases are not massively destructive- but I do have weird periods. In such a manic burst I decided to help my sister out the situation. It was clear that now our lives did not mesh. She was no longer speaking in the accent of our native Essex. Her new accent was not even class less- she was using the speech patterns of the upper middle classes. My dropped haich and effin n’ blindin’ would be bad enough but mostly I should be kept from humiliating her in front of her good lady friends with tales of police courts and drinking dens from our youth. I realized a specific in her private life that had not been shared. It was only supposition but I think I guessed what the big problem was- (sorry for not sharing what I thought but it was only supposed)- I realized she did not trust me. I was angry but have no use for confrontation so I just mailed and suggested we should cease being in contact as it was obvious we had no relationship left. In a normal frame of mind I would not have done this but sometimes I am crazy as hell. She mailed back full of backed up anger and obviously delighted to have rid of me- though she made a dig at Herrad as well.
I am sorry it happened this way but I think it was best to kill it before it died. It is better for us both not to draw our fingers across the wound every time we meet or speak. The sister I loved is dead and I was never the brother she wanted. It’s a loss I feel but it is easier to live with no sister than half a sister.