It was a normal school day in my life. After finishing my homework, it was already 11 pm. I climbed up into my bed; the soft pillows and warm blankets gave me a sense of security. I was ready to sleep after a normal day of my life. I pulled up my phone and started watching. My head kept telling me, "10 more minutes… 10 more minutes." So, I started scrolling through Instagram, and there I saw the breakout news that Russia had attacked Kyiv, the capital of Ukraine.

It was a definite shock for me, yet I didn’t believe it at all. The gossip that I had heard before came blowing out of my mind; no one believed that it would happen. My whole family was in Ukraine. I stood there really stressed, knots of anxiety twisting in my chest. My heart pounded like a drumbeat echoing in the silence. I didn’t know what my next step would be except to immediately call my mother. But she didn’t pick up…

Possibilities ran through my head like a videotape. I longed for any sign, any glimmer of hope that my family was safe, but all I had were my own anxious thoughts. I didn’t sleep at all that night but cried hard and prayed for safety…

And yet, I finally received her call. After the thrill—thank God—my mom was only asleep, and my city was safe that day.

My friend at school helped me get through those hard days. She started sleeping in my room for the next several days to make sure I was okay.

Seeing the war break out in my own country and worrying about my family’s safety was so hard for me as an international student living in Canada. Worries always wove through the fabric of my thoughts. I often wondered how my family was doing when I was sitting in class writing an essay. “What if a rocket flew over and hit my house?” These worries and thoughts were like storm clouds in my mental sky; they grew and branched out into various concerns. I became less and less concentrated, thinking about these stresses, and often zoned out.

Guilt also filled my daily life. I often thought to myself, the life that I have right now was built upon my family. I should be happy and grateful to be safe in Canada, and I was… but also filled with guilt for what my family and my home country were now experiencing. My feelings were like being tightened up by a rope—whenever I felt happy, the rope tightened. When I was having a happy time in Canada, someone in Ukraine was suffering. For a long time, happiness turned to suffering for me. Guilt started to become a companion to my happiness.

The summer after the war, when I finally went back to Ukraine, was a new hard experience for me. I had heard that the very loud air sirens, which warn you about danger, would ring every day. But when I truly experienced hearing them 20 times a day, it hit my mental health very badly. It felt like the very atmosphere was pulsating with tension. The air itself seemed to shudder, and the noise, relentless and insistent, served as an urgent reminder of the chaos that awaited beyond the safety of shelter.

pI panicked when going through these experiences. I was at a loss and didn’t know what to do. My heartbeat quickened, each pulse resonating like a drum in my ears. Do I go to the bomb shelter, or do I just hope for the best? My days in Ukraine were very nerve-racking at first, but later on, I adapted.

After a month in Ukraine with my family, I realized air sirens were slowly enrolling into my life. But don’t most Ukrainians fear them? Because we shouldn't get used to war, but we are. Air sirens became a part of their routine. We are getting used to it when we are not supposed to.

I went back to Ukraine for my winter holiday too. It was my first time going back in the winter after the war. I again felt truly hopeless and hurt. When my mom picked me up, the one thing she told me very seriously was that we had no water, and we had no light. The journey back home was tremendously different for me this time. I traveled for two days because I couldn’t find airplane tickets. Instead, I needed to go by bus. I went on an 18-hour bus ride to get to my city; I couldn’t even shower because of no electricity and no water.

The war in Ukraine has cast a long and haunting shadow over my life. The silent line when I called my family in Ukraine left me in a night of despair. Living in another country and seeing what was happening in my own country was the hardest for me. Thinking back on the terrifying moments, I am thankful for my parents and my friends, who supported me in those hard hours. Violence was never a way to solve a problem, and neither was war. I am fortunate that I live in a peaceful environment. I fervently wish that the devastating war had never occurred, bringing untold suffering to countless lives.