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TW: very TWcant'defend it but it is the way it is

i don't wnat to be a self harmer. i have been one all my life. it was only 4 or so years ago when i finally really attempted to get help. i'm 65 now. for me self harm is not cutting my skin on my thighs or belly or wherever on a regular basis. i only really did that once when i was a lot younger. that doesn't mean i don't do it though. i won't get into specifics, but it is just as much no good. but my self harm happens in other ways also and that goes beyond a variety of physical methods to psychological methods as well. so much time is spent doing that that generally speaking, i'm self harming constantly. i have tried medications a few times and am certain that these will not work for me. i may be wrong but try convincing me of that. i believe that the part of my mind that makes me self harm is the part of me that is creative, that loves, that wants to do things. and i felt that part of me becoming crippled when i was on medication. so it brought to light in me the question, why do i have to give up the part of me i love and need in order to try to stop the part of me that harms me. i bet there are some people to whom the answer is obvious. that if i take the meds, i'll stop harming and i'll be alive. that makes it worth it. i can only respond to that with - that will also make me want to kill myself at that point. so i've been searching for intensive treatment programs and have gone through a the ones in the usa that won't take my insurance. pretty disappointing. my therapist has been working on it and found a place that said they would contact me within a week. they already once rejected me because i'm an active self harmer, but my therapist seemed to think they'd reconsider. but that was a week ago and i have not yet heard. later today this morning when i wake up if i ever get back to sleep, is the final day of the period when they said they woudl contact me. do you have any idea what that kind of taunt is like. to be disappointed so many times because they just don't help self harmers unless theyre dripping blood and then they only close the wound and tell you to go and get help for your other problem. really, i feel like starting an eating disorder or give other self harmful things a try and the thoughs of that sound so appealing. those kinds of things are decisive. i'd love that. to finally go so deeply into self harm, to know i've done damage that can never be fixed. and i believe i am being aided in this by the mental healthcare system. the just dont want to help my type of problem or better still they don't know how. they realize it can't be done, so they give me the runnaound and let me know that tough shit, its really just my problem anyway. they are ok with that. i'd really try if someone would dedicate themselves to treating me. there's the catch. dedication. no one will do that. getting help is only by choice and if i don't choose, i will never get help. i have to scream it - i can not choose. my problem is that i cannot choose. i believe that i had some kind of damage before i learned to make choices. it sounds impossibe i know. but when it comese to it. the moment of do i self harm or not?? something steps in and makes me do it. it doesn't matter how good my intentions are. i'm not doing something to be bad or contrary or ornary. it is something that jsut steps in and does it.
You're older than me, but I wish that I could pick you up and just rock you, rock and rock and rock and rock, until the pain melted away. Then rock and rock and rock and rock you, until your body gave up the pain. Then rock and rock and rock you...until you fell asleep, and rocked and rocked and rocked..until you woke up again, and felt filled.
***I was talking to my daughter last night. When she was younger all of her stuffed animals had jobs. Doctor, nurse, grave digger (long story), store keeper, ....and one went insane. My daughter told me the one that went insane was her grandmother/my mother.*** Damn. Finding out the impact of my mother on my daughter...is remarkable. I feel bad, yet my daughter was able to handle it. Coping with the stuffed animals was so amazing. I feel bad for my mother too. She had an opening to connect with my daughter...and she just blew it. It's so strange, like seeing a mini-me and "what could have been".
I get what you feel about your pain. I can't go back and hug myself. The pain is as central to my personality as my daughter's peace is to hers. It's not a matter of giving up the pain to find out what is underneath. The pain IS me. Take that away...and there's an empty space.
I have no idea if you'll find a therapy bed. Seems like there is SO much need in the world, and so little comfort.
I grew up in bombings overseas and got PTSD there, and so did my family. The explosions outside my house then caused PTSD explosions of domestic violence inside my house. And then self harm and all other kinds of ways for channeling fear in all directions. Ours was a house of horrors. Beatings, pill addictions, eating disorders, sexual assaults, Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy, and finally the self sabotage of financial fraud that bankrupted and disgraced us.
So much need and so little comfort indeed. You're not alone in how long this has gone on. You're 65 and I"m 58. Much support to you.
Maybe somehow when it was going on that you suspected something. Maybe you didn't even know what...but that you did suspect something and somehow thought that if you'd only said something that you might have prevented it.
I'm a little more than a decade younger than you. But when I was in 5th grade, I will NEVER forget meeting a classmate's father. Sex abuse wasn't talked about back then, but I KNEW in an instant, that I didn't want to be alone in a room with this man. The entire time that I was at their house, I followed my friend or her sister around.
I have no clue what happened to my friend, but when we hit middle school, she started doing hard drugs. Even the "bad" kids stayed away from her. She either dropped out or they moved away, but I never heard what happened to her.
So, I think that it's entirely possible that you picked up on Something... Maybe it was even the creative part of you...the part that can imagine the unimaginable...that was first alerted. But then...the conscious part, said no... And maybe the two parts of your brain have been at war ever since???
Gentle hugs