Berezanska Sofiia, 18 years old

Winner of the 2024 essay contest, 3st place

Kyiv Professional College of Art and Service Technologies

Teacher who inspired to write an assay - Khokhlova Iryna Yakivna

 

«1000 days of war. My way»

On February 24, 2022, at around four in the morning, the war began. For me, it began at 7:53, when I heard loud conversations on the phone and my mother woke me up: “Get up, the war began” – a phrase that is still difficult to remember. Just the day before, my friends and I were sitting at school, discussing rumors, and I said that it was foolish and senseless to start a war with Ukraine.

As it turned out, there are no limits to human stupidity and cruelty.

The first feeling of that morning – panic. How, where to run? What to do anyway? But my mother's calm voice orders me to pack my "grab bag." The whole day passed as if in a fog, I don't remember anything. The next memories are four days in the basement of the kindergarten. Damp, cold, dark and so scary.

At that moment I had not yet fully recovered, being in such an environment provoked bronchitis. I remember the nightly gunfights, shell casings in the morning, how anxious birds flew away, and our aviation in the sky.

It was terrifying, but I understood that something had to be done. I didn't want to sit still, I wanted to help. The shelves at the stores were half empty, the pharmacies were empty, but we got medicine and food, and I delivered them to the elderly.

My dad and I collected water from the pump room, made supplies, took some to people in our house and the district, and in general, we supported each other as best we could.

In all this commotion, I didn’t notice how time passed. Going outside became less scary. I spent the night in the house, in the janitor’s room, where my dad built a small bed for me. There were times when I slept in the hallway during the shelling. Time passed. I started going out for walks, and it was so strange.

It seemed like I was the only one worried and scared, while the people around me continued to live their lives. It was an existential crisis – a feeling that haunted me for the first four months.

Later it became easier, I even stopped being so afraid of sirens, I thought it would always be like this. But… I was wrong.

The first crack

The moment when a part of me died. AN-225! The legendary cargo plane, manufactured at the Antonov Plant.

On December 21, 1988 at 12:15, it took to the air for the first time.

On March 22, 1989, AN-225 flew with a cargo of 156.3 tons and simultaneously broke 110 world records.

On August 24, 2021, on Ukraine's Independence Day, it flew over Kyiv for the last time.

On February 27, 2022, the Buran spacecraft carrier was destroyed in its hangar during the fighting for Hostomel.

My grandfather was among the designers of this plane.

Back when I was a child, I remember him telling me about a very large plane that was designed by a large team. This plane was not only a huge part of Ukrainian history, but also a part of our family's history.

In the fall of 2023, I was diagnosed with alopecia, hair loss of any degree. I was diagnosed with “alopecia areata.” I am undergoing treatment, and the areas without hair slowly began to grow back. But happiness did not last long.

Already in the middle of spring, when I get my first job, I get severe stress for two weeks – and my hair fell out almost completely. I decided to shave it off completely.

I am diagnosed with “alopecia totalis,” because the hairs on my body also fell out, and new ones do not grow. The reason for the loss is stress. I have never lost hair so much, but the war did this to me. There was a lot of bullying, panic attacks, tantrums. I became even more disappointed in people. How can people humiliate others who are not to blame for what happened to them instead of supporting one another, especially during such a situation in our country?

I have gone through this path of accepting myself in a new way, now I am not bothered by people’s stupid negative statements about my appearance. On the contrary, a smile appears on my face.

Breaking point

July 8, 2023. Okhmatdyt. The day I broke down again.

Morning, air raid alert, but I go to work anyway. While drinking my morning coffee with friends, we listen to the air defence system, and a few seconds later two missiles are shot down almost above us. We hide in the entrance, drag inside a woman who was passing by. A whistle.

Around 10:50 a missile hits the dialysis building of Okhmatdyt. These sounds will forever leave a mark on my soul.

At seven o'clock that evening I went to help in Okhmatdyt. We carried water, loaded cars with medicines and food. The drivers, ordinary people...

Unfortunately, I have to stop. Another air raid alarm: everyone take cover!