Friday, November 15th 2013
My Letter To President Obama
Dear Mr. President,
I believe this letter may simply be cathartic for me. I highly doubt that I’ll
ever receive answers to my questions, and I’m not even sure that there are answers.
I can’t decide if the words I write are my search for an outlet for my frustrations, or
to talk myself into having hope.
Hope. It was a word used frequently in your campaign for president. It is a
sacred word with sacred meaning for many Americans. For some, it’s all we have.
Recently I read a quote online, which you stated, Mr. President. You said,
“Hope is not blind optimism. It's not ignoring the enormity of the task ahead or the roadblocks that stand in our path. It's not sitting on the sidelines or shirking from a fight. Hope is that thing inside us that insists, despite all evidence to the contrary, that something better awaits us if we have the courage to reach for it, and to work for it, and to fight for it. Hope is the belief that destiny will not be written for us, but by us, by the men and women who are not content to settle for the world as it is, who have the courage to remake the world as it should be.”
Mr. President, I want you to know that I have hope. I have so much hope, that
I hope this letter will somehow reach your hands, and I want you to know, that the
government of the United States of America is crushing my hope, and as you are my
president, you have a hand in all of this. I have many roadblocks that stand in my
path. I would love to hope that something better awaits me, and I believe it does,
however I can not help but believe that as I try the hardest I can, as I try to move
mountains, as I try to write my own destiny, it is not always within my power to do
anything about it, especially when my rights are no longer rights, but laws, and
politics, and arguments.
I am a twenty-five year old woman, and I love my life. I’m not as educated as I
could be, I’m not good at debates, and I don’t understand 99% of what goes on in
Washington. Some would read this letter and believe that I am incapable of writing
it. Some would think that I’m not smart enough to argue my points, and that could
very likely be the case. I only understand what affects me, and there is a lot of
affecting me going on right now in Washington.
The day I married my husband was the best day of my life. I didn’t realize
that I could have an even better day on the day I realized that he was going to be a
daddy. I’m currently almost six months into my first pregnancy and we can’t wait to
meet our little Leo.
Although I may seem pessimistic in my words about our government, I do
believe everything will work out in the end. I know that God blessed us with this
little baby because he knew we’d make it. But I can’t say I’m not worried. My
husband is faced with choosing a health insurance company from work in the next
couple of days that we simply can not afford. We are not poor. We work to maintain
our bills and would probably be considered middle class. But when it comes to the
“affordable” health care act and medical insurance and hospital bills, middle class is
not enough. I find it insane that I sometimes wish we made less money so that we
could qualify for government assistance. As an American, I feel disgusted with
myself for wishing this, because I believe that my opportunity’s should be exactly
that, they should be opportunities. They shouldn’t be burdens. Due to the changes in
healthcare that are happening in Washington, my husbands premiums have shot
through the roof, and we have no idea how we’re going to stay afloat. We live
paycheck to paycheck right now, and after we pay for insurance, our income will be
half a paycheck. The other day I cried all the way home from the grocery store,
because I was on an empty gas tank and didn’t know if I’d make it home. Normally,
that wouldn’t happen, but because of hospital bills and doctor’s bills, the amount of
money in our checking account is limited.
As I mentioned before, I don’t really know why I’m writing this letter. I think
maybe because I have a weight being shoved on my heart each time I think about us
having to make a decision. How can we make a decision, when the choices available
to us are not within our grasp? How can I not ignore the enormity of the task ahead
or the roadblocks that stand in my path when the roadblocks are not physically
possible for me to move? How can I have hope and the courage to reach for it and
to work for it and to fight for it when every ounce of my work is not good enough?
What am I supposed to do? How can I remake the world, as it should be, if my
government is standing between my world and me? I literally scratched a piece of
junk mail the other day and considered going to collect my “winnings”, that’s how
desperate I am. I keep waiting for some miracle, when usually I make my own
miracles. I plead with you, Mr. President, to help me come up with a solution. I knew
it was going to be a tough financial road, but you and your ideas have provided me
with a financial roadblock.
Thankfully, I have my family and God to get me through this emotional
rollercoaster. I have faith that everything will work itself out. I have so many
blessings and so many things that others do not, and I understand that I should not
be complaining. But I also know that I should be proud to be an American and proud
that I have the privileges of living in this country. Please, Mr. President, provide me
with more opportunities and solutions than worries and blockades. Help me to
understand all this and make sense of it all in plain English, rather than political
jargon.
I want my son to know how much he was wanted on this earth, and how
much we want to give him all that we can. Please let me give him the privilege of
being proud to be an American.
Sincerely,
A Concerned Future Mother, Hollie
