KYIV — Without electricity for 12 hours a day, the fridge is no longer any use. But it’s a stable minus 10 degrees Celsius on the balcony, so I store my food there. Outside today you’ll find chicken soup, my favorite vegetable salad and even my birthday cake — all staying fresh in the biting chill.

This is the latest terror the Russians have inflicted on our capital — during the cruelest winter since their all-out invasion began in February 2022. They have smashed our energy grids and central heating networks with relentless drone attacks; the frost then does the rest, caking power cables and heating pipes in thick ice that prevents repairs. 

At times the temperature drops to minus 20 C and the frost permeates my apartment, its crystals covering the windows and invading the walls. Russia’s latest attack disrupted heating for 5,600 residential buildings in Kyiv, including mine. 

My daily routine now includes interspersing work with a lot of walking up and down from the 14th floor of my apartment block, carrying liters of water, most importantly to my grandmother.

Granny turned 80 last year. Her apartment at least has a gas stove, meaning we can pour boiling water into rubber hot water bottles and tie them to her body. “Why can’t anyone do anything to make Putin stop?” she cries, complaining that the cold gnaws into every bone of her body.

The Kremlin’s attempt to freeze us to death has been declared a national emergency, and millions of Ukrainians have certainly had it harder than I. Many have been forced to move out and stay in other cities, while others practically live in malls or emergency tents where they can work and charge their phones and laptops. 

Feeling forgotten

Kyiv is crying out for help, but our plight rarely makes the headlines these days. All the attention now seems focused on a potential U.S. invasion of Greenland. Our president, Volodymyr Zelenskyy, complains he now has to fight tooth-and-nail to secure deliveries of air-defense missiles from allies in Europe and America. 

“In these times when so many lives are being lost … you still have to fight for all these missiles for various air defenses. You beg for them, squeeze them out by force,” he said.  

His outrage that Ukraine’s allies are losing interest has struck a bitter chord this winter. The West’s reluctance to give us security guarantees makes us feel the Kremlin’s crimes are being normalized. Watching Greenland only makes us more afraid. Many Ukrainians no longer believe international law can do anything to rein in the world’s superpowers. Might is right, once again.

We are living through what happens when an unchecked superpower is allowed to kill at will. Russia’s goal is to break our defiance, mentally and physically. Weapons designed to sink warships are being turned against our power plants, government buildings and apartments. 

Keep going

When you’re forced to shiver in the dark for so long, deprived of sleep by nightly missile barrages, you can quickly slide into despair.  

“What can I do to cheer you up, Mom?” I asked via a late-night WhatsApp message. “Do something with Putin,” she replied sarcastically, adding she can handle everything else. That means getting up and working every day, no matter how cold or miserable she feels.

Whenever workers manage to restore the grid after yet another attack, the light brings with it a brief moment of elation, then a huge to-do list. We charge our gadgets, fill bottles and buckets with water, cook our food — and then put it out on our balconies. 

What’s inspiring is the genuine sense that people will carry on and keep the country running — even though there’s no end in sight to this sub-zero terror. Just do your job, pay your rent, pay your taxes, keep the country afloat. That’s the mission. 

So much of the city functions regardless. I can get my granny an emergency dental surgery appointment the same day. Recently, when I went for my evening Pilates — ’cause what else you gonna do in the dark and cold — I saw a woman defiantly getting a manicure in her coat and hat, from a manicurist who wore a flashlight strapped to her head.

Bundled-up couriers still deliver food, but the deal is they won’t climb beyond the fifth floor, so those of us up on the 14th have to go down to meet them.

Personally, I have access to any kind of food — from our iconic borscht to sushi. I can charge my gadgets and find warmth and shelter at a mall down the street. The eternally humming generators, many of them gifts from Ukrainian businesses and European allies, rekindle memories of a European unity that now seems faded. 

Critically, everything comes back to the resilience of the people. Amid all the despair, you see your fellow Ukrainians — people labeled as weak, or bad managers — pressing on with their duties and chores at temperatures where hypothermia and frostbite are a real danger.

That’s not to say cracks aren’t showing. The central and local governments have been passing the buck over who failed to prepare Kyiv for this apocalypse. Some streets are covered with ice, with municipal services having to fight frost and the consequences of Russian bombing at the same time.

But there’s a real solidarity, a sense that all of us have to dig in — just like our army, our air defenses, our energy workers and rescue services. I find it impossible not to love our nation as it endures endless murderous onslaughts from a superpower. No matter how hard the Russians try to make our lives unbearable, we’re going to make it.