The year 2020 hasn't disappeared. When I walk around the city and look at people, I think, ‘You all were at the Sunday marches!’ We were united and felt something incredible back then. Even though today we are all under occupation by our own government, our city remains the same. People support each other. There's a sense of camaraderie. It's just that today it happens not on the streets but in personal relationships, conversations, and different situations that occur with us. And it is precisely the support of such people that helps me endure the fact that my husband is in prison.

You know, there are times when everything is very bad, I feel like I'm at the bottom, and it seems like there's no way out. And it's during these dark hours that people show up, various signs appear, thanks to which I believe in the light, and that good will prevail eventually. Suddenly, someone will send flowers, give a little gift, or write something positive about my husband on social media. For me, it's like a miracle. This is really, really beautiful. Powerful and heartbreaking.

Once, for example, were riding in a taxi with my mother-in-law, and of course, all our conversations were about the prison, about our shared pain. The taxi driver refused to take money for the ride. It felt so heartwarming.

In general, everyone understands what's happening, and few remain indifferent. Once, with my father, we were buying groceries to send to my husband, and were looking for dried meat. We honestly told the saleswomen that we needed it for someone in prison. And they immediately rushed to help, searching and finding the best they had.

In another small shop, we were buying dried fruits, and the seller herself shared that her colleague had also been arrested. The shoppers who overheard all pooled their money to help the guy. And they added, "Elderly people come to us and buy nuts for children in prison. Could we ever imagine we'd live to see such times?"

Today in Belarus, some have their loved ones imprisoned, while others have acquaintances or friends in jail. Some sell dried fruits to those whose loved ones are incarcerated. Many ask around if someone has a close political prisoner and request contact information to offer support. They send flowers, gifts, and various pleasant things, including kind words.

One of my acquaintances set an alarm for 6 p.m. in memory of Raman Bandarenka [Note: Raman Bandarenka died after being beaten by security forces during the protests against the 2020 Belarusian presidential election.] Remember that day when people formed chains protesting against his brutal murder at 6 p.m.? That alarm has been ringing for more than two years. My friend thinks about Raman every day.

And what's important is that when you speak Belarusian, people treat you warmly immediately. It's our code. [Note: People who speak Belarusian are considered to be against the regime and have been arrested, fined, or imprisoned on politically-motivated charges. Those who support the regime communicate primarily in Russian.]

However, it's essential to understand that we all live in fear. We've learned to live with it.

We've adjusted our lives under the regime's labels. You do this when you know they can come for you in the night. In the day. At any time. It's challenging for normal society to understand that Belarusians clean their Telegram caches twice a day. I think that when things get better, we'll have to unlearn deleting data from our phones before sleep, but now I can't fall asleep peacefully until I check and clean my phone three times.

When you're in public transport and reading the news (usually from extremist channels), at first you look to see if anyone is standing nearby looking into your screen. [Note: Belarusian authorities label independent media outlets as ‘extremist’. Anyone charged with creating or participating in a group that has been labeled as extremist faces up to 10 years in prison, according to the Belarusian Criminal code]. Who knows, maybe it's a law enforcement officer or an informant. I'll admit, sometimes I also glance at what others are reading. It's all the same. We all live under the same threat.

Another habit is to think about where to hide your laptop and phone if someone comes for you in the morning. There was a funny story a friend shared about going from Belarus to Vilnius, Lithuania, renting an apartment, and immediately thinking about where to hide the laptop. Then she scolded herself, thinking, "Oh my God, I'm not in Belarus, no one will come for me. There's no need to hide things."

"I wish they would come for me already. I'm tired of living like this and being afraid." You hear such statements sometimes.

We also make sure not to wear clothing combinations of white and red [Note: In Belarus it is dangerous to wear clothes with a combination of white and red colors. Red and white are the colors of the opposition flag.] Just think about how they've driven us to this...

All of this is sad. But as long as we're alive, we'll manage. It's an experience.

My friends still keep a bottle of champagne they'll open on that very day of Victory. Our new Victory Day when we depose our tyrant. When the doors of the prisons open and our children, our brothers, our sisters, our wives and our husbands and our parents walk out of the shadows of their cells, into light and our welcoming arms. Into a free and open society that does not brutalize us and prey on us for making known our dreams and our wishes. Our shared fantasy of a democratic, self-affirming, peaceful Belarus.”

I confess that while my husband is in prison, my life feels incomplete. I can't admire beautiful things — like when spring comes and everything blooms. I think that the fullness of sensations will come when my beloved is by my side again. But even so, bad weather, or the hardships and frustrations of any ‘normal’ day aren’t a reason to grumble and complain. It's all trivial compared to what Belarusians in prison go through.

But I believe everything will be fine. Perhaps if there wasn't a war in Ukraine, I would have had doubts, but this war will change the world; it already has. Before, we couldn't even imagine that we'd witness the crumbling of the empire. We thought we'd live alongside Russia and make small steps towards change, as much as possible. War is a tremendous tragedy. But it's also the harbinger of the collapse of dictatorial regimes.

"It won't last for a century," as one Soviet dissident used to say.

I'm waiting for my husband, believing in change and in the new Belarus. I know I'll wait for him. All we need is loved ones nearby and good health. Our grandmothers always wished for good health, and as a child I used to think it was such a boring wish, but today I understand. The main thing is to live. We'll cope with the rest.

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