"My primary field of activity is myself"
This story begins not in the pleasant seaside town of Worthing, West Sussex, where Yaroslava Matvieienko currently resides, but in the heart of ancient Kyiv. Yaroslava is a journalist—a person of words and action, accustomed to recording reality. Yet the events of 24 February 2022 became a reality that was difficult to grasp, even for a professional eye.
Premonitions and the "Dandelion"
On the eve of the full-scale invasion, 23 February, Yaroslava was at Saint Sophia Cathedral. As a journalist, she was covering a conference on Ukrainian-Swedish historical ties and a liturgy in memory of Princess Ingegerd. Despite the alarming news, the presence of foreign diplomats in the heart of the capital seemed to lull one’s vigilance.
"I still had my doubts, even though my rucksack was packed. I had a plan. But I remained sceptical about the real possibility of a full-scale invasion, especially because the date had been announced in advance. The Ambassador and diplomats, scholars, the media—everyone was here. Saint Sophia was still standing. Under those circumstances, doubts never left me for a moment."
After the exhausting conference, she stopped by "Veterano" pizzeria. It was a moment of strange calm before the storm.
"I practically crawled there—I was so tired—and ordered a 'Dandelion' pizza. There, I saw someone interviewing a soldier… and I wondered: how long would this peaceful, quiet, calm life last? I went home with those thoughts and couldn’t fall asleep for a long time. Amidst it all, I was gnawed by that eternal feminine question: should I wash my hair now or in the morning?"
The morning that changed everything
At five o'clock on the morning of 24 February, a neighbour rang the doorbell of her flat in Obolon. Yaroslava opened it in her pyjamas, confused as to why he was standing there in a hat, outdoor gear, and a rucksack. When asked, "Are you coming?" she replied blankly, "Where?" She hadn't heard the explosions—but her 82-year-old grandmother had, and she had simply decided not to wake her granddaughter.
"For about five minutes, I was hysterical because I didn't fully realise that it had actually happened. My first feelings? Fear. Impossibility. Disbelief. It was a shock. Then I pulled myself together and gathered all my inner strength."
She spent the first hours of the invasion in the Tube (the Metro) with her neighbour—but without her cats, fearing people might have allergies. But Yaroslava’s heart was at home: her grandmother, who flatly refused to leave, and her cat were still there.
Eventually, fear for her loved ones outweighed caution. Yaroslava returned for the cat, and later for her grandmother, when the news warned of intensifying shelling. Her grandmother finally said, "I want to live." They spent the next 40 days in the Metro, and later in a city-centre bomb shelter set up in a hostel.
The journey to Britain: A dream with a bitter aftertaste
The decision to leave was difficult. Yaroslava had studied English since she was five, admired British culture, and dreamed of becoming a writer in this very country. But she never wanted to end up here as a refugee.
"I always dreamed of living in Great Britain and being a famous writer—but not like this. Just when I decided my dream would likely never come true, it manifested in this way. So, one must be very careful what they wish for."
In August 2022, along with her grandmother and her cat ("a family member—it wasn't even up for discussion"), Yaroslava moved to England. The choice of country was obvious: her mother had already been living there for twenty years.
Adaptation and cultural bridges
Despite her excellent command of the language, the integration process proved challenging. Yaroslava jokes that English is almost like a mother tongue to her, but building a life from scratch requires more than just vocabulary.
"This country and its culture were never foreign to me. It is my second Motherland. Shared traits? Gardening, perhaps. Recently, a British lady gave me three jars of homemade jam made from fruit from her own garden… I thought: oh, this is very Ukrainian."
She finds parallels between Ukrainian and British traditions, gives talks at a local museum about Ukrainian Christmas, and explores shared Celtic-Norman roots. Yet the main challenge has been self-realisation.
"There are plenty of challenges- finding a decent job, for one. I think there’s another trait Britons and Ukrainians share: they aren't too fond of overly 'active' people. And I am very active—pure fire. Perhaps sometimes I need to slow down. Don’t push the horses."
Moving away from journalism
In her three years in Britain, Yaroslava has gone through dozens of CV versions, lives in a constant state of networking, and has volunteered as a guide, communications specialist, and event manager. However, a full-time professional role has yet to materialise.
"By social standards, I am 'unsuccessful'. I haven't built a career here. I’m unmarried, I have no children. I am at a point where I realise my efforts haven't led to the desired result—so I need to change my perspective, become more flexible towards change and new opportunities. In journalism—especially in the form it exists now—I no longer see any professional or personal growth."
Currently, Yaroslava is focusing on three areas: writing, event management, and potentially her own small business. She is considering a restaurant or a local café-shop, as she sees how local entrepreneurship thrives in Sussex.
Emotional acceptance: Objects as witnesses
The most difficult process Yaroslava is navigating now is the final "goodbye" to her life in Kyiv. She has begun moving her belongings from Ukraine: books, sketches, photo albums, and icons she painted herself.
"For me, this is a very emotional, internal process. Final. The moment has come when you can finally let go. When I unpack these things here, they aren't just objects. They are evidence that I had a life 'before'. They are a part of me, and it’s important for me to have them… The 'Yaroslava in Britain' is still forming. The 'Yaroslava in Ukraine' is now closing all her chapters."
Therapy and internal anchors
Yaroslava speaks candidly about working with a psychotherapist and taking antidepressants. For her, this is a path toward maturity and stability.
"I’ve been working with my new therapist for less than a year, but I feel myself maturing—I see changes in myself. Finally! I don't get stuck in depression as much, and I recover faster when I 'slip'. When there is heavy shelling in Kyiv, I always sense it a few days in advance—and I don't sleep that night. The connection to my native land remains regardless."
One of her main sources of support has been Tarot cards. She has studied them for over fifteen years and views them not as magic, but as a language of symbols.
Ukrainian strength in Worthing
Yaroslava has become a driving force for the Ukrainian community in her town. She has organised exhibitions of Ukrainian artists, cultural days, lectures on traditions, workshops, and documentary screenings. It was her initiative that established the local tradition of honouring Britons killed in the Russo-Ukrainian war.
"When our Ukrainian community was invited to take part in Remembrance Sunday—which is incredibly prestigious—I proposed an idea: to place crosses with the names of Britons who died for Ukraine in the Field of Remembrance by the local Town Hall. We have maintained this tradition for four years now."
Even in moments of exhaustion, she finds reasons for pride. One such moment was performing on stage at the Royal Opera House with a choir of Ukrainian refugees, and performing at St Paul’s Cathedral with a Ukrainian orchestra.
"As a child, I was always told I had neither an ear for music nor a voice. Yet I sang in a choir on the stage of the Royal Opera House in London. In St Paul’s Cathedral, we sang Ludwig van Beethoven’s 'Ode to Joy' in Ukrainian. It was a moment of dreams and unreality—a moment that became iconic for me."
Instead of an epilogue
Today, Yaroslava Matvieienko is preparing a major poetry and music event in London and writing two debut books. She is planning to move into her own home and intends to publish a collection titled "I (Don't) Know How to Write About This" in English, which includes her short story. Furthermore, she aims to establish her own cultural and arts organisation and is determined to earn a local degree.
"My primary field of activity is myself. I dream of my own business—where I am my own boss, setting my own deadlines and meeting them, where no one holds me back, where I can 'spread my wings'. I choose this responsibility—and I am ready for it."
