When I fled Ukraine, I fell into depression and darkness. But losing my home made me appreciate what I have.

• When Russia invaded Ukraine, I fled my home in Kyiv. I'm now in Warsaw.
• Before I fled Ukraine, I had so many things to be happy about — but they didn't feel like enough.

When I was a little kid, my mom used to tell me that even on the worst of days, there's a bright side.

When I got a low grade for the first time, she tried to convince me that it happened to everyone. After I failed my job interview, she said: "When one door closes, another opens."

Like most moms, she was right. That's why when I fled my home country of Ukraine after the Russian invasion, I tried to see the good in it.

War transformed me from the eternally smiling and romantic optimist into a solid piece of depression

After one month of war in Ukraine, I couldn't recognize myself. I lost weight due to stress, and my eyes stopped shining as bright as they used to because of constant crying. But it wasn't only about my appearance — what scared me the most was the awful feeling of emptiness, despair, and hate.

I didn't like this new version of myself, and I surely didn't want to get used to her.

The night I realized that, I was lying on the bathroom floor seeking answers. "Where is God as Ukrainian women report rape and sexual violence by Russian soldiers?" I asked myself. "Was He asleep when those soldiers turned Irpin, Hostomel, and Bucha into scenes from horror movies? Did He die along with thousands of murdered Ukraininas just because of their nationality? Why does my nation have to face the genocide in the 21st century? How long will it last?"

I desperately needed explanations — from God, or from anyone

I soon felt the tiny spark of light in this sea of darkness. It kept shining through the people I met, the support I've been given, and the valuable lessons that the war has taught me, like how helping others can reduce pain.

It was my third sleepless night with cold and exhaustion. I was standing in the long line at the border of Ukraine and Poland, thinking about all the evil things that have been happening to my people lately. The whole world seemed to be evil at that moment.

Then, I saw a man. He and his little daughter were standing not far from a large saucepan full of tea. They gave me only a hot drink, but I've never felt this much gratitude.

"If I would just sit and watch the news, I would go crazy," he said. "Helping others is the best way to reduce pain."

That's when I realized: There will always be plenty of beautiful souls who will share love, even in times filled with fear and terror. I hope there are some of them among the world leaders who can help Ukraine in this unequal fight.

Recently, more than 4,000 people gathered in Warsaw to support Ukraine. It taught me that our greatest strength is unity.

I was in Warsaw, too. We screamed "Close the sky," sang our national anthem, and cried at the show of unity. I'd never felt more connected with our ancestors, who fought for their right to exist for centuries.

Now it's our turn, and I'm incredibly proud that our generation managed to unite the whole civilized world to support democracy and truth.

Because of this unity, we're still alive — and as long as we're alive, we'll fight for our victory.

Before I fled Ukraine, I remember drinking coffee in my favorite place in Kyiv

I had lots of plans that day: cutting bangs in the morning, job interview in the afternoon, cooking dinner with my friends in the evening.

I had so many things to be happy about, but it didn't feel like enough. I was constantly worrying about my career path, complaining about low-budget trips, and crying over a broken heart. If only I could go back to my former self, I would tell her to enjoy every second of her life.

When the life you knew is taken away from you, you realize something: A bright sky, peaceful nights, and the breath of life of our loved ones nearby is more than enough to be happy. We just have to appreciate it before it's gone.