I am the author of the Goodacity blog, a journalist, and a translator. For 16 years, I have worked in professional journalism, contributing to regional and national publications, both in print and online media. I have written reports, conducted interviews, reviews, articles on cultural, social, and charitable topics, as well as materials in the style of "solution journalism" and communication materials.
My focus is on creating interesting and exclusive content. Journalism, to me, is primarily about human stories, to which I always find the key, empathize with the people I write about, and love all my heroes. Journalism, to me, means telling people about what truly matters to them, informing and inspiring them. It is not just a job, but a way of life, just like for all those who dream, create, and are inspired by it.
So, if you are looking for stories that inspire and motivate, that instill faith and help find meaning while believing in goodness, read my stories on the Goodacity website.
I am a manager of cultural affairs and a project manager with over 14 years of experience at United Thinkers. I have participated in the organization of numerous successful social and charitable projects and have implemented informational campaigns and communication cases.
As a marketing manager, I have been involved in organizing marketing and sociological research, working with media and partners, developing advertising and marketing strategies, as well as planning and implementing advertising campaigns.
I believe in the power of goodness and I am happy that as part of the Goodacity project, I can contribute to its expansion. I believe in the power of words and in the fact that communication can help make the world a better place. I know how, where and when to speak in order to be heard. And when you are heard, you can change the world!
The consequences of war are about the strength of our people
Ms. Lidia from Chernihiv greets us near the shattered gate. Her courtyard is adorned with flowers, which stand out brightly against the ravaged house. The contrast is striking: the battered walls, remnants of war, and the lush beauty of the flowers, their vibrant display. “Somewhere there is beauty,” she laughs. “Because every time I look at the house, my soul aches. I remember how my daughter, little grandchild, and I hid in the cellar from shelling while our house was burning… But when I look at the flowers, I think – life goes on, I have to pull myself together and live. So that my children look at me and think – Mom is strong, and we should be too…” She is a strong woman. “How can you not be strong when children’s eyes (my grandchild Bohdanchyk, who was hiding with us in the cellar from the Russian ‘Grads,’ he was only four last spring) look at you with hope and ask, ‘What’s next?’
A destroyed house, but not life!
“You know, I’ve decided for myself that on the day of our Victory, I will cut all of my flowers and go to greet our boys with them. I will lay flowers at their feet because there are no words to express all our love and gratitude to them…
But while we wait and everyone does what they can, we are all focused on bringing our Victory closer. The most important thing for all of us now is to not lose hope, to stay strong, and to support one another. It’s amazing that today, just before our conversation, I met our savior – the man who saved me, my daughter, and my grandchild last spring. We talked, embraced, reminisced, and cried together… I’m sorry, but when I remember that, I can’t help but cry. It’s been over a year already, and it feels like I’ve gotten used to it, I try to hold myself together, but as soon as I start talking about it, the tears come… How can I not cry? My blood runs cold in my veins when I recall those moments…”
We were shelled – it was terrifying, the walls were shaking… My daughter, little Bogdanchyk, and I were in my brother-in-law’s cellar when a shell hit the house above us and destroyed it. A fire broke out – we rushed out, barely dressed, my daughter holding her little son in her arms, and I followed behind. The shells were whistling and exploding above us, and in that fear and despair, we ran without knowing where to go… We pleaded with the men we encountered on the way, asking for help. Some turned away, but one of them said, “Quick, come to my cellar!” He guided us, fed us, and reassured us – that’s where we spent the night, in that cellar. There was a somewhat comical moment: in the evening, that man, Alexander, said, “Let’s go outside, we need to prepare food” because there was no electricity or gas, and we cooked only over a fire.
I cried and said, “I’m afraid to go out because they’re shooting.” But he reassured me and said, “I’m not afraid of anything anymore these days. I have an accordion; I’ll take it with me and play. It will cheer us up.” I laughed and went outside to cook. That’s how he saved us during our most terrifying night of our lives.
When we saw our destroyed home, there were no tears at first – there was shock. The consequences of war are terrifying: our house was hit twice – on March 11, it was “wounded,” and on March 13, it was “finished off”… Two shells exploded near our house, and a third one hit the garage. The garage was completely destroyed, and our house had its roof shattered, windows shattered, walls pierced with shrapnel, with many fragments embedded in the walls, floor, and furniture… On that same day, under the relentless barrage from “Grad” rockets, we left Chernihiv. We stayed for a while in Western Ukraine, then went to Poland. It took us a long time to recover from everything we had experienced. Our Bogdanchyk – our little chatterbox, our restless one – our hearts ache the most for him… He witnessed the shelling and the destruction, he sat with us in the basements… He still fears loud music, the sound of car engines, and when he saw an airplane in Poland, he burst into tears and asked, “Mom, will it drop bombs on us? It won’t, will it?”
He draws pictures of our defenders, and we, as volunteers, deliver them. We try to help the front line in any way we can – even when we were in Poland, we made camouflage nets and collected and sent supplies to the front… If you want to help, you will find a way, even when it’s not easy for yourself. Because when you help, you feel that you’re living a meaningful life!”
Consequences of war: How the Occupiers 'Liberated' Us from All Our Possessions
“When we returned to Chernihiv, my daughter and I cried tears of joy! Yes, it’s not easy, yes, it’s war, but this is our land! And it gives us strength. And a home is still a home, even if it’s battered, wounded, and beaten…
We had lived our entire lives in peace and harmony, and now, in our old age, this happened… The house where we lived, passed down from my grandmother, was built in 1937. It had already survived one war. My husband worked at the radio factory, and I worked at Chernihivnaftogazgeology. We extended and renovated my grandmother’s old house with its clay ceilings, and we lived there. Not in luxury, but in peace and harmony, soul to soul…
I have been retired for 10 years, and since then, I have dedicated myself to gardening. It brings me joy and provides some extra income because the pension alone isn’t enough… I have always loved flowers – how can you not? A person who loves flowers loves all living things and can never be evil… That’s why Ukrainians plant trees, rescue animals, come together to rebuild what war has destroyed, while the occupiers only know how to destroy and ruin…”
How my soul ached when I witnessed trees burning and dying in our garden, when I saw huge craters where flower beds used to be… And the sight of our ruined home pained me deeply – my grandson Bogdanchyk cried so much when he saw his burned jacket amidst the rubble, asking if the “bad uncles” had set it on fire.
The house was severely damaged, with shattered windows and debris everywhere. We searched for ways to restore our ruined home because we couldn’t handle it on our own. The charitable foundation “Rokada” helped us with roofing materials, and we managed to fix the kitchen and one room, where we now live. Just when we were about to lose hope, we were fortunate to meet the volunteers from Goodacity – thank you for your help! There is still a lot of work ahead, but it becomes easier when you realize that you are not alone… Such support means a lot. There are many people in our situation, with their homes destroyed, and I want to say to all of them – hold on, don’t give up! Together, we will help each other rebuild our lives from the ruins.
Each of us can help others with our words, our smiles, and our kindness. May our souls be filled with faith and hope, and our hearts with love and compassion. Believe in yourselves and in our collective victory! Currently, I make a living by selling flowers – tulips, daffodils, roses, chamomiles, chrysanthemums… It may not be much, but it’s already an additional income because I need to gather funds for the restoration of my house. But it’s not just about the money: my flowers bring me joy!
When I returned home, the first thing I did was rush to see how my flowers were doing – I laughed and cried at the sight of them… I cleared the entire flower bed from debris, bricks, and shrapnel. But when I saw the little flowers breaking through the soil, it lifted a weight off my soul! For me, they are a symbol of hope and new life… Look at our Chernihiv: ravaged by war, yet unyielding and blooming! If people are planting flowers, then there will be a future! I believe in the Armed Forces of Ukraine, I believe in our happy future. And next year, I plan to sow flowers for people, for Victory!
