Don’t be afraid, no one will touch you. Most importantly, sit quietly and don’t lean out. The house is strong, it will endure. Listen, don’t be afraid. This will be over soon…
Only those who were close to me in those March days could imagine what a titanic effort these words cost me. In rare moments of communication with children stuck under the occupation, I gathered all the forces that remained into a fist and said what I myself believed with difficulty. But I knew that my confident voice would give them hope that the Kadyrovites 500 meters from the house – it’s not scary. That the house will protect them. that we’ll see you. See you right.
The rest of the time I was overwhelmed with horror and rage. And yet – an irresistible desire for revenge. So strong that the body could not cope with bouts of desire to kill. Right now. In the most horrible ways imaginable. Slowly, savoring the pain and fear of those who came to kill my children. His hands were shaking, every muscle in his body was cowardly from the need to throw out black hatred.
In the rare moments when I managed to fall asleep, I had dreams in which I tore apart those who were standing on the threshold of my house with my bare hands. I woke up deeply satisfied. Five minutes after sleep, I felt able to live. And then it all started in circles.
“I’m afraid…” I was able to formulate this only by mid-March. “Tell me how to keep humanity in yourself?” Most of all, I’m afraid to turn into them. Wishing death on everyone indiscriminately, including children. Become a monster that desires death and nothing but death.”
Probably, this question would be more correct to ask a priest or, at worst, a psychologist. But I asked it to a friend who saw death and pain every day by virtue of his profession. To a friend who has never once given me wrong advice, completely disregarding my reflections. “Treat them like cockroaches. You beat them with a slipper, but you hardly feel hatred, ”he said.
Strange, but it was this phrase that helped me put everything in its place. However, he always knew how to find the right words to make me act, and not suffer from insecurity in what I was doing. No, a toggle switch did not magically turn on inside me, which could remove emotions. But I forbade my own hatred to take over me. There are beings who have come to me with weapons. They must be destroyed. It’s as easy as wiping up a dirty puddle that’s dripping off your boots. Nothing personal. Space hygiene issue. My house must be clean. Dot.
I learned to separate pain from hate. And it also turned out to be a very useful skill. I have died and continue to die with everyone who daily replenishes the heavenly legion. Until the last day of my own life, butch will remain bleeding wounds, MariupolChernihiv, Irpin, Olenivka, Nikolaev, Kharkiv and a long, long list. Which will continue to grow. Pain. But not with hate.
Maybe it works differently for someone else. But for me the world was divided into two sides – Light and Darkness. For me, this is a war between civilization and savages. War of worldviews and values. This particular Russian with weapons in his hands must be destroyed on my territory. His family, living in conditional Tagil, is not. Just as the family of the conditional Onoprienko, who was born with us in the same country, should not be destroyed.
Yes, it is very difficult to accept, but the value of the life of my child and the value of the life of the child of the one who gave the order to blow up the barracks with the Azov people are equivalent. They did not choose the country, parents and time for birth. As much as I would like to let go of my hatred again and join the chorus of those who demand to find and destroy everyone, including families. What could be more natural than such a reaction? But the fight against your inner dragons is always an order of magnitude more difficult than killing cockroaches. And we have to fight simultaneously on two fronts. Therefore, it is important for me not to go over to the side of the enemy. Even for good intentions.
We can destroy them all to a single. Leaving no memory of them. But how will we differ from them then? Nothing. And that means they will win. Even the dead. Even in a burned-out area. They will leave us to nurture and cherish what we fought against. Actually, this is what they want from us – to push us to the same actions with all our might. To torture on camera, to the destruction of prisoners, to atrocities in relation to civilians, to such a simple and understandable “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.” Then the war of worldviews will turn into a banal war for territories. Where neither side will care about moral values. Where we will look with horror into the depths of our own souls, if we have the courage, of course.
As long as the war is going on, there is no guarantee that my body will remain intact. Helmets, armor, trenches, dugouts – it’s all good and right. But the missiles don’t care how well we prepared. And it doesn’t matter where I am – at the position, on the road, or came to see the children for a couple of days. This is something I cannot influence. But there is something that depends on me personally – to remain human. And that means win.
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