Urban warfare is a harrowing and intense battle environment. Having experienced similar challenges in Iraq, I want to offer some insights that may be of value to the defenders of Kiev, Ukraine. These tactics are born from hard-learned lessons and may help you navigate this difficult terrain. 1. **Stay Off the Streets:** I can't stress this enough. Urban warfare is brutal, and being caught outside is a recipe for disaster. 2. **Doors Are Fatal Funnels:** Doors are tempting entry points. Aim your weapons at them to maximize your firepower. 3. **Block Entrances:** Use anything you can find to block doors from the inside, making it seem unblocked to invaders. 4. **Stairways Are Kill Zones:** Block stairways to slow down enemy advances. 5. **Grenades Downstairs:** When tossing grenades downstairs, have your weapon ready. Invaders may rush upstairs after the blast. 6. **Shoot from Above or Below:** Cut small holes in the floor to fire into rooms below. Enemies often look straight ahead, ...
For too long, I carried the weight of my struggles in silence, believing that strength meant facing everything alone. My grandfather—bless him—taught me that real Russian women don’t ask for help, they just endure. I thought that was my path. But it’s a lie. A damn heavy one. Years of trauma, burnout, anxiety, and a body that’s screaming for mercy pushed me to the edge. I’ve ignored my limits, clung to my pride, and let fear keep me from reaching out. Now, as the weight threatens to crush me, I wonder if it's too late to ask for help. Can I still heal when I’ve spent so long thinking I had to handle it all alone? I don’t know. But maybe this is where the real strength lies—finally breaking free from the past, from the expectations, and letting myself be vulnerable enough to ask for the support I’ve always deserved.
Today, I woke up to a silence that didn’t just fill the room—it clung to me, wrapped itself around my ribs, and whispered in that hollow space where my heart used to feel full. It wasn’t the soft kind of quiet. It was sharp, brutal, and unrelenting, the kind that sinks into your bones and makes you ache in places you forgot existed. I thought I’d learned how to live with it, how to bury it under routine and motion, but no. It crept back in like it always does, uninvited and heavy, dragging memories behind it like chains. It gnawed at scars I thought had long since healed, and I hated how easy it was for them to tear open again. So I sat in the dark. Crying, like I always do when it becomes too much. The halls stretched on endlessly, their stillness mocking me, and yet I wandered them like I might stumble across something—anything—that would make this emptiness feel less consuming. My fingertips brushed against the walls, the rough texture grounding me, a painful reminder of how far I...
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