Mental Health at it's Finest (tongue in cheek)

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Every year, the last Wednesday in January, Canada has a big promotion for mental health awareness. One of the major cell/telephone/tv/media providers donates .05c to every text (not imessage), tweet/retweet/shared Facebook post, etc. using the hashtag #BellLetsTalkDay. I have spent a good part of my day sending tweets to celebrities asking them to retweet. I've shared, I've texted my kids just for the heck of it, I've told my story. I am a strong supporter of Mental Health Care (because I have mental health issues) and this promotion has raised millions of dollars over the last 11 years. I would like to know where the heck that money is going. I am having issues. Lots of issues. My fibromyalgia is getting worse; I'm fighting the government to recognize I am still ill 25 years later and unable to work; I have a husband who is supportive in some ways but not in others... the list goes on. A big issue, as I've probably mentioned here, is looming retirement and my plans and my husband's plans don't match. I decided to "see" a therapist. We're still social distancing so doctor's appointments are done over the phone or video. I was advised by the counsellor at my doctor's office that I should go through my husband's insurance company to get a counsellor because they would give me more sessions. Yeah, that's right. Our sessions our limited. To how many? Six. Yes, six. And the same goes for the insurance company unless it's more critical then it's 20, but they can open a new case to continue further if necessary. On Monday I spoke to a therapist and she chose to focus on the retirement issue with my husband. She literally yelled at me telling me that I was not handling the situation properly. I have been to quite a few counsellors over the years but never once have they yelled at me. The intake workers are more empathetic and soft spoken than this old lady was (and we started in video which dropped so I know she's an old lady). After two days I decided that having a therapist yell at me was not helping my situation. In fact I got off the phone feeling worse than when I got on. I decided to call intake again and ask for another counsellor. Well.... I was on hold for not 30 minutes, not 60 minutes, but 90 minutes. That's right, an hour and a half!!!! I got another soft spoken, sweet caring intake worker who is actually going to report the therapist I spoke to and is submitting my request to a few therapists. One will call me back to make an appointment. This is where our mental health system is at. Being on hold for 90 minutes; getting a therapist who yells at you; waiting weeks to speak to a therapist. Where are these millions of dollar going? And is any of this going to do me any good? We shall see. I am in rough shape both physically and mentally. But I am also terribly saddened at our mental health care system. Something needs to be done. More and more people need help especially since the beginning of the pandemic. No one wants to suffer. I sure as heck don't. I've been doing it for 25 years if not more.