Iuliia: “Still, my heart is in Ukraine”
Iuliia: “Still, my heart is in Ukraine”
Iuliia stands proudly with her reminder of home and family – a little stuffed pig, beloved of her daughter.
Iuliia was on holiday in Austria just days before the full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. Suddenly, the family became refugees, unable to return to their homeland. Her “piece of home” is her daughter's soft-toy – a little pig that brings memories of Ukraine.
We arrived in Vienna just five days before the full-scale invasion of Ukraine began. It was supposed to be a short visit – two weeks at most. A friend had invited the three of us, my little daughter, my husband and me, to visit her in Vienna. We packed lightly, thinking we’d return to Kyiv soon. We even had ski plans in the Carpathians. Life was normal. We had no idea what was coming.
But then the war started. And suddenly, we couldn’t go back.
At first, it felt surreal. We were in a beautiful, peaceful city, while our home was under attack. Our parents stayed in Kyiv. We speak with them all the time – on WhatsApp, Viber, wherever we can. But it’s not the same. We miss them deeply. And I miss the life we had.
I never thought about leaving Kyiv. We had a beautiful life, we worked hard and had a good standard of living. Kyiv is such a cool city – I really love it. Leaving Kyiv was not our choice.
A map showing Iuliia's journey from Kyiv to Vienna.
The first year in Austria was incredibly hard. Every day brought new challenges. I have a university degree and I worked in finance, but despite my education and professional background, even going to the supermarket in Austria became a daunting task. I remember spending almost two hours trying to buy basic groceries – translating every label on my phone, searching for familiar ingredients in unfamiliar packaging. In Ukraine, that would have taken ten minutes. Here, everything was different. Even getting out of bed felt like a challenge, because I knew the day would be full of unknowns. It was screaming at me: “new, new, new.”
But we worked hard, taking one step after the other, moving on. Trying to walk forward. Even if you cannot walk straight toward your goal, you take a detour—but you keep moving.
My daughter Nika is 11 now and she speaks fluent German and English. She attends a bilingual programme (German-English) at a Viennese grammar school. She’s thriving, but it was also very challenging for her. In the beginning, she attended an Austrian school in the morning and Ukrainian online school in the afternoon. It was a lot for a child, but she managed it with strength.
I brought this little plush piggy toy with me. It’s a gift from Nika’s godmother in Ukraine. When Nika was very little, she saw it at her godmother’s house and wanted to keep it. Ever since, it has been with us – on holidays, to sleepovers, even to school sometimes. When we came to Austria, it came with us. It’s a piece of home. And in Austria, I later learned that little pigs are symbols of good luck. I hadn’t known that before – but it felt like a sign.
I had worked as a financial analyst in Ukraine, mostly in banking. But here, my German wasn’t strong enough for that kind of job. I started learning the language from scratch – A1 level in May 2022. I put a lot of energy into it. Now, I’m finishing C1 (note: language levels range from A1 to C2, i.e. beginner to near-native). It’s still not enough for my profession, but I’m getting there. I’m ambitious. I set goals and I go after them. But even with that mindset, it hasn’t been easy.
Now I work part-time in a nonprofit organization focused on security. Yes, it’s a part-time job, but it’s meaningful. I also volunteer for the “Ukrainian Saturday School” in Vienna, where I manage school related data. It doesn’t pay, but it gives me purpose. It helps me stay connected to my community. And it shows my daughter that we can still contribute, even when life is hard.
I also joined the UNHCR Refugee Team, a group of people with refugee background who advise UNHCR and share their perspectives. I was really eager to do that and I carefully considered whether I could take on something additional before I sent my application. I’m happy I decided to go for it – we share experiences and try to pass them on to others, discuss, and I like the light, respectful atmosphere.
One of the most important milestones for me was receiving my Red-White-Red Card (note: a residency permit tied to employment on top of temporary protection for refugees from Ukraine). It’s more than just a document. It’s a sense of security. A promise that we can stay – even if the war ends tomorrow. Without it, we’d be living in constant fear of having to leave. With it, I can plan. I can breathe.
Still, my heart is in Ukraine. My parents are there. My memories are there. My old life is there. I carry it all with me. Austria is my new home, but Ukraine will always be my home as well. I live in both places now – in my mind, in my heart. And I hope that one day, when the skies are open again, I can take a plane and fly safely to Ukraine to see my parents and my city.
That is my personal wish. And I also wish all refugee families a simple thing: to be together in safety with their families.
