In Ukraine, I spent a long time searching for my place in life. I never stopped looking for the path where I could truly feel needed, fulfilled, and able to make a difference. Eventually, that calling found me. It was a profession where my empathy and my desire to help people could truly flourish.

I miss that small sense of "power," when just a few phone calls from me could solve a problem that someone had been struggling with alone for a long time. The greatest reward was hearing sincere words of gratitude and sometimes even seeing tears of happiness and relief. In those moments, I felt that I was doing something small, yet genuinely meaningful and important.

It was while working at the Kherson Regional Contact Centre, a state institution, that I realized every person may be only a small cog in a large machine—but even the smallest cog can move mountains if there is enough determination.

I miss that time very much.

Then everything changed...

24 February 2022.

4:00 a.m.

Explosions.

Very close.

From my apartment window, I could see a military base on fire.

Fear.

Confusion.

Together with my son, I searched for the nearest shelter.

Nearly three months of sleepless nights in that basement.

Occupation.

I simply could not believe that it was really happening. I kept trying to wake up from what felt like a nightmare.

But it was not a dream.

Pain.

Uncertainty.

Leaving my home behind.

Forced displacement.

Six months later, I finally stopped crying every morning after reading the news from Ukraine. I had to pull myself together—for my son and for his future. Despite everything, he deserves a happy life.

I am learning the language, finding work, and gradually adapting to the system of the country that gave us refuge.

Little by little, life has become more stable. New plans, small dreams, and small achievements have appeared.

Although my job is in a completely new field, it brings me satisfaction.

I am learning new things again—and I truly enjoy it.

It is still difficult. I still do not understand the language well.

But I am alive.

I have found my joy in life again, and I truly believe that everything will be all right.

                                                                                                                                                       Personal text by  Nataly Matiasch