My husband and I have been having a recurrent conversation over the last couple of years. I’d be willing to bet that, even if you haven’t articulated it out loud, or even consciously thought about it, you will agree with us.
The last eight years have been very depressing for Americans. Our jobs are sliding out of our fingers like so much sand. The cost of health care is so high that, even among those of us with insurance and decent wages, we avoid the doctor’s office so that we can also avoid getting the bill in the mail afterward. For those of us working two or three jobs while our homes are in foreclosure who’re filing for bankruptcy because of the medical bills, it’s even worse. There’s a low-level anxiety that our rights are being stripped away even when we may not know what we’re losing. The human and monetary costs that go with the two wars we’re fighting. Leaders who don’t care. A media that is all about profit and not about product.
Sometime last year, I had an epiphany. I realized that people need something to look forward to, to strive towards with a reasonable assurance that their efforts will yield a reward. For my husband and I, that usually means a trip we want to take, a gathering we want to host, time off we plan on enjoying. However, I think most Americans try to fulfill that need by buying "stuff": the next hot new gadget, a sexy car whose payments are through the roof, or a house they can barely afford. Regardless of how we each meet this need, the fact of the matter is that we’re often placated for a few days, and then it’s on to the next thing. It’s rarely about the relationships we have, the satisfaction our jobs give us, or our accomplishments as individuals. Those things just aren’t as important anymore now that we have to fight and scrape for every ounce of security we can get.
I think that, in order to keep working harder, we have to believe that we have some degree of control over our destinies. If we work hard, we’ll be rewarded both with the satisfaction of a job well done and with some security and compensation. Instead, we trudge forward, day after endless day, all the while knowing that we’re putting in fifty and sixty-hour weeks just to keep our jobs and that, when review time comes, we’ll be lucky to get a raise that allows us to keep up with inflation. And in the end, no matter how hard you work, how loyal you are, or how innovative you are, all it takes is to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and POOF! Your job is toast. All those hours, and all the sacrifices you make to just maintain the status quo, were wasted when someone decides that the company share price isn’t where it needs to be and cuts you off at the knees.
At some point, we ask ourselves "What’s the point?" I know, for me personally, that I keep asking this question over and over again without an answer. The end result of my work doesn’t make anyone’s life better. It makes the company I work for richer, but ultimately no one is more enlightened, happier, or safer by virtue of what I do. It’s dull, boring, and monotonous, and it wears me out just because I don’t want to do it. And that’s been true of every job I’ve had in the last ten years in two different industries.
We also have no down time. No time to recharge and regroup. Saturday is spent doing all the things that didn’t get done during the week: grocery shopping, laundry, housework, paying bills, dragging through all the "self-service" aspects of life from dental insurance to Netflix. Sunday is often spent sleeping, resting, reading, and just spacing out, maybe with a day trip thrown in here or there. Sunday is also spent in a state of mild depression, knowing that in just a few hours’ time, the whole rut opens back up and we neatly drop ourselves into it.
And that’s where Barack Obama comes in.
When I hear him speak, I think of Michael J. Fox’s lines in The American President:
People want leadership. And in the absence of genuine leadership, they will listen to anyone who steps up to the microphone. They want leadership, Mr. President. They're so thirsty for it, they'll crawl through the desert toward a mirage, and when they discover there's no water, they'll drink the sand.
I want leadership, but I also want inclusion. I want a say in what goes on in my country and my life. I’m sick and tired of back room deals that sell out my job, my security, my civil liberties and my voice. I want to believe that all of us are important, not just as cogs in the great wheel of commerce, but as people with lives and relationships and problems and triumphs. And I haven’t felt that that has been true in a long, long time. Barack Obama gives me a reason to hope for that. I’m not sure I believe that it’ll happen, or even that it’ll start to happen. But if it does, even slowly, then it’s a damn sight better than what we’ve endured all these years.
What I’d really like to do is spend some time trying to find the right fit for me, work-wise. Maybe do some contracting for a while until I find something that inspires me. But I can’t because we need health insurance. If we had universal health care, I could work wherever I wanted.
What I’d really like to do is to be able to take time off when I need a break. But I can’t because every penny I make is supporting my household and we can’t even afford to save for retirement, much less to take a little time off. If I could really believe that my savings isn’t going to tank because of the failures of a bunch of wealthy CEOs, I might be able to take the time I need to regroup and return to work, refreshed and ready to kick ass.
What I’d really like to do to get more involved in the campaigns. But I can’t because when I get home at night, all I want to do is watch Olbermann and go to bed. If all of this crap wasn’t draining me, I’d have the energy to fight harder.
My belief is that Barack is inviting us to be involved, to question authority, to actually see what’s behind the curtain. He wants Americans to keep tabs on our government, but also wants our government to look after us as well. He knows that this country can be a huge engine of human drive and faith if it’s given the fuel and the parts to run smoothly, and he wants each of us to take our places to push the American vehicle forward. And I very, very much want to be a part of that.
But right now, I’m on hold. I can’t bring myself to start anything, to move in any direction. I’m standing still, waiting to see what’s going to happen in November. I have hope, but I’m also afraid of wanting too much, of believing any of this is possible. We all know that this could all be a dream within a dream and that, come November, any one of a million things could go wrong and give us another four or more years of the same old crap.
And that, my good friends, will break my heart.
I’m still working for the change we need. I’m still giving money and I’m still paying attention. But I’ve also gone tharn like a dear in headlights, not sure if what’s coming is the light at the end of the tunnel or a fast-moving freight train.