The story of a Russian girl who comes to America to pursue her dreams but finds herself trapped in loneliness, debt, and systematic alienation. This story is not a call for anything. Don't leave nor give up a dream. This is an honest look from the inside: without rose-colored glasses, without idealization, without fear of telling the truth.
Dreaming about the scene on the wall
When Olga from Moscow received notice of winning the green card lottery, she saw it as a sign of fate. New country, new life, freedom – it all sounds like a promise of a better future. The first days in New York confirmed the illusion: a smiling officer at the border, drinking coffee at Starbucks, walking around Manhattan with his phone in his hand and his heart full of hope. But after a few weeks, the magic begins to fade, giving way to the harsh routine of survival.
Deciding to save money, Olga moved to Atlanta. It's cheaper there, she thought. But “cheaper” in the US is just a relative concept. With $15,000 in credit, she bought a used car – now her home and only refuge. It was there, in the supermarket parking lot with the sound of rain falling, that she cried, not knowing how to continue breathing.
A job that doesn't value experience
Olga is a marketer with higher education and many years of experience. But in America, her MSU diploma is just a piece of paper. “Russian experience doesn't count,” she heard at every interview. To compete, she spent hundreds of dollars on marketing courses and certifications in the US. Even though that didn't work, she worked as a barista for $12 an hour, six days a week, from 6 a.m. to 4 p.m. Tips are like a drop in the ocean, tax is 25%. About $3,000 a month is still on hand.
The money goes toward rent for a one-room apartment ($1,500), insurance ($400), gas ($200), food ($400), and a car loan ($300). Almost nothing remains.
“In Russia, I lived on 50 thousand rubles and could set the table for guests. Here I count every penny and am afraid to eat a pizza for $15,” says Olga.
One of the most painful topics is health care. Basic health insurance costs $400–500 per month and doesn't even cover basic dental care. Filler – $200, crown – $1000. After cutting her hand in a cafe, Olga had to go to the emergency room – the bill was $1,500, insurance only reimbursed $800.
Since 2025, the situation has gotten worse: insurance subsidies for green card holders earning less than $30,000 per year have been cut. Olga found herself in the “risk zone” – she had to pay the full price without the right to make a mistake.
“One serious diagnosis and that's it,” she said.
Psychological help? $150 per session if you're lucky enough to find a Russian-speaking expert. Depression is a diagnosis that can be treated alone.
Lonely in the land of smiles
Americans are polite but cold. “How are you?” – “Okay, thank you” – and the conversation ended. There was none of the sincerity that Olga was used to in Russia. Neighbors don't stop by “just like that”, friends don't call for no reason. There is a Russian community in Atlanta, but everyone is busy surviving: they work 50 hours a week, raise children without grandmother's help, save everything.
Dating via apps is another pain. “Russian girl? Strange! – but then asks about the accent, about Putin, about Siberia. “You're beautiful, but tell me, how do your bears live?” – such words are humiliating. In Russia, Olga is “our person”. This – “branded stranger.”
A green card is not freedom but constant control. You need to work at least 180 days a year, confirm annual income and undergo an interview every two years. Any mistakes carry the risk of being deported. In 2025, the regulations become stricter: now, when renting a house or applying for a job, they must present a green card.
Olga admitted: “I hid my passport, but inside there was always fear.
Political tensions also take a toll on immigrants. Colleague asked:
“Who are you for?”
Store cashiers examine every coupon with suspicion. Friends from Ukraine are silent about their origin.
“One post on social media and that's it, goodbye America,” they whisper in conversations in Russia.
Going back is also not an option
Mom calls every evening: “Daughter, have you eaten?” Olga lied: “Yes.” Actually – yogurt and oatmeal. A ticket to Moscow costs $800, visas are a bureaucratic nightmare. INGoing back means admitting defeat, losing investments, and starting over. But staying means living in a state of chronic stress, without support, without warmth, without a future.
“I'm not complaining,” Olga said. “I just want those who dream of leaving to know the truth.” America is not the land of dreams. This is a country of calculation, loneliness and the endless struggle for the right to stay.”
