You Don’t Have to Fight Someone Else’s War

When the war in Ukraine began, my days filled with smoke.

Not real smoke — but the kind that comes from endless scrolling.
Telegram. LinkedIn. News alerts that stung like metal in my mouth.

Coffee tasted flat. Sleep slipped away.
My jaw clenched until it ached.

At the office I shared with three women, Ruth noticed.
She was a seasoned coach, calm as oak. She was Ruth Wenger.
Her name was the first one on the door outside, mine the last.
While others passed by, she looked directly at me:
“Where are your parents now? How close are they to the war zone?”

Her question went straight to the wound.

I was ready to fight.
With a rifle, or inside my chest.
Every headline lit the fire higher.
I walked like a soldier waiting for orders.

Ruth invited me into a session.
I sat in the same room where I usually welcomed clients —
but this time, I was the one speaking.

Words spilled out: Putin, soldiers, injustice, fear.
She let me pour it all until the storm thinned.

Then she said quietly:
“You don’t have access to the whole truth.
And this isn’t your war.”

Her words cut the fog.

I realized the rage wasn’t only about today.
It was older — ancestral grief, stories from my grandmother,
unresolved rage carried forward.

My warrior energy had grabbed a battle that wasn’t mine to fight.

And then Ruth gave me the sentence I’ll never forget:
“Alex, you deserve to live in peace.”

The air changed.
The radiator’s click sounded softer.
My jaw loosened.
For the first time in weeks, my body remembered safety.

Here’s the truth I carried away:
Not every fight is yours.
Not every surge of fury needs a battlefield.

Some of us try to find ourselves through the fight —
testing, failing, adapting, chasing identity in crisis.

Some of us try to prove our worth through struggle —
pushing harder, selling louder, carrying wars that aren’t ours.

Both patterns lead to exhaustion, not peace.

If you find yourself consumed by battles you can’t win, try this:

• Notice your body: chest tight, teeth clenched, hands restless?
• Ask: “Is this mine, or is it old grief I’m carrying?”
• Find a witness: a friend, a coach, a steady listener who won’t fuel the fire.

Not every war belongs to you.
Sometimes the bravest act is to stop proving, stop carrying, and choose peace.

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