Friends would often ask me to draw something for them, but my attempts at drawing portraits of my classmates were not well-received, which discouraged me. Looking back, I realize I shouldn’t have given up but practiced harder.

After school, I wanted to pursue something related to art, but after consulting with my parents and friends, I chose to study foreign languages instead. I got married, had a son, and twenty years passed without any art in my life. I worked at a school, then at a university, where I started researching linguistics.

My calm, planned life changed dramatically when I received an unexpected diagnosis that forced me to quit my job. It was a personal tragedy, as I loved my work, and I had no idea what to do next.

After three months of crying, I decided to take this as a new opportunity. “This is your chance,” I told myself. “You’ve always dreamed of painting, so paint!” I went to an art shop and bought oil paints, brushes, and canvases, even though I knew nothing about mixing colors. My first painting was on cardboard because I was afraid to use a canvas.

I don’t know where the sudden confidence came from, but I followed my instincts, later finding confirmation in art books. I watched every free workshop online, practiced daily, and soon my paintings started selling! By the end of 2013, I had two major commissions. Then the war came.

Fleeing the war in Ukraine was a heartbreaking experience. Leaving behind my home and the paintings I poured my soul into felt like abandoning a piece of myself. The uncertainty of whether I would ever see them again or even have the chance to create again was agonizing. War takes away not just your physical space, but also your peace of mind, your inspiration, and your creative spirit. It is a trauma that lingers, making it difficult to find joy in creation when your world has been shattered.

When I got ill, I thought nothing could be worse. But when I had to leave my home and my paintings behind, when I didn’t have any opportunity to paint for a year it felt destroyed — not knowing if I would ever start again. Shelling our land added a sense of a nightmare.

I finally got most of my paintings in Denmark after a year, I was eager to paint again, but my hands sometimes trembled, and I lacked the energy, spirit, and creativity I once had. It was a long journey of both physical and emotional recovery.