When Peace Feels Like a Whisper: My Feminine Spirit in Times of War
Hey dear ones,
I’ve shared a lot here about finding beauty in the everyday, about inner peace, and the magic of simple moments. And honestly, I believe all of that with my whole heart. But there’s another part of my everyday, a really big, heavy part, that I haven’t really talked about. It’s living in a country that's at war, in a city that still gets hit by missiles and combat drones.
You might wonder how you live when the air raid sirens go off, not just sometimes, but every single day. At first, every wail would send a jolt through you, a cold fear straight to your bones. You’d drop everything, grab your go-bag, and head to the shelter. But after a while… well, it’s like your mind just can’t hold that much fear, that much constant dread. So, a lot of people here, including me sometimes, we just keep going. The sirens become background noise. A terrifying, heartbreaking background noise that you try to tune out, because if you don't, you just can’t function.
And then there are the nights. Sometimes the sky above the city glows, not from the sunrise, but from fires, from strikes. You hear the booms, feel the vibrations, and you just curl up and pray. You see the exhaustion in everyone’s eyes, the deep, bone-weary fatigue from living with this constant, invisible pressure. People are just… tired. So tired.
This reality, it changes everything. It changes how you see the world, how you see yourself. When the world outside is so harsh, when life feels so fragile, what does femininity even mean? Does it feel frivolous to think about grace, or beauty, or feeling soft? Sometimes, yes, it totally does. There are days when I look in the mirror and I don’t recognize the spark I used to have, overshadowed by the weariness.
But then, there are other moments. Moments when holding onto my feminine spirit feels like an act of defiance. It’s in the women I see helping each other, sharing what little they have, offering a kind word even when they’re struggling themselves. It’s in trying to keep a little corner of my home warm and inviting, a small act of creating beauty amidst chaos. It’s in choosing to put on a dress instead of sweatpants, just because it makes me feel a little bit more me, a little bit more hopeful.
My "inner sanctuary," the one I talked about, it’s being tested in ways I never imagined. It’s not just about finding quiet moments anymore; it's about fiercely protecting that inner light from being snuffed out by the darkness outside. It’s a different kind of strength, one born from enduring, from refusing to let the fear steal every last piece of your softness, your humanity, your grace.
It's hard. So incredibly hard. But maybe, just maybe, living through this, holding onto who we are as women, that’s the most profound kind of beauty there is right now. It's a whisper of peace in a very loud world.
Holding onto hope,
Vladyslava
