Let me start with a story. About a woman, you don’t know. One of those you easily pass by on the streets. Nothing outstanding. No major achievements. No heroic deeds. A mother of three, the youngest daughter was born just before the outbreak of full-scale war.
The first months were extremely difficult. We all remember that. But we also remember something else. In the first months, we were all inspired. We were all united. We were ready to do anything to survive, resist, and stay together. We thought it was a sprint ahead of us. Not everyone was ready for a marathon. Not in the first month, not in the second. The third. The first year. The second.
It was difficult for everyone — and it was difficult for her too. She tried to do everything she could for her children. It seemed like she wouldn’t make it. She was told what we no longer hold back from saying today — “the guys in the trenches have it harder”, “those at the front have it harder”, and “those who have lost have it harder”.
I won’t keep the intrigue. The woman was buried a few weeks ago. She couldn’t cope and killed herself. She was found by her own children. There were always many people around. She spoke to someone every day, but nobody understood what was happening.
We are on a very difficult path. And this path will be huge. We have all become vulnerable. And because of this vulnerability, we lose empathy. And, perhaps, if we are talking about our own lives, this is a normal way to survive. However, today, we must speak about the survival of us as a Nation.
We often remember many wonderful things. Security. Independence. Victory. Territorial integrity. Dreams. Identity. However, none of these things will make sense if we lose the most important thing — those for whom we are doing all this.
Every day, we lose those who are at the front line. We lose those who are here. Those who leave the country and do not return. Those who return from the front and cannot find themselves anew.
We are all trying to do something. Each in our own place. However, with every step we take, we must realise who we are doing all of this for. Otherwise, we will be heading nowhere. Since 2014, we have been discussing what we are fighting for — for the territories or the people who live in this country, and, in particular, for the souls of these people?
Most people feel the strongest of emotions — fear. We may forbid ourselves from talking about it aloud. We can pretend to be strong, that we are able to overcome anything. But fear is felt by everyone. And everyone converts this fear into something different. For some people, it is converted into the need for action. The need to counteract. This is good. But for the majority, fear becomes either a desire to hide their head in the sand or it becomes what is easiest to become — anger. Anger and hatred.
Such hatred eats away all the soul. I know many wonderful people with whom I share long and wonderful relationships. People who, with all seriousness, begin to talk about how they are ready to kill the children of our enemies. Ready to destroy the whole world. And I guess this is a normal emotional reaction. However, it scares me. It scares me because I fear that we might become them. I fear we might allow anger, true aimless anger, to take root inside of us.
I fear that those who are going through hard times will take their values from those experiences and carry them forward. If, on our path to the great goal I believe in with all my heart, otherwise — neither my children nor I would still be in this country… If we lose ourselves on this path to that great goal, it will mean that the enemy has won.
