Feb. 24, 2025 marks three years of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine. Three years since Ukraine, and the world, ceased to exist as we knew them.
Kyiv Independent staff members have answered the question, "If you could go back in time, what would you tell yourself on the eve of Russia's full-scale invasion?" The following reflections offer a window into the profound impact this war has had on a group of people covering the war — and a nation — changed forever.
Asami Terajima, reporter
I would tell myself that everything about your life will change tomorrow: your understanding of war, peace, and life. And that you made a good call convincing your parents not to return to Ukraine, where they had been living, because you had good instincts about what was to come.
Don’t freak out, but the war that is about to consume your life is way worse than you could have ever imagined. The most important thing is that you know you are not alone. You have friends and colleagues who will be there for you, so just keep taking one step at a time. You are only a 21-year-old university student who just stepped into the world of journalism. Nothing is expected of you. So just cherish the last few hours in peace, the calm before the storm before the innocence of youth is taken away from you.
Make sure that you are comfortable with the risk you are taking, and follow your gut — it can sometimes save lives. Don’t panic, and stay true to yourself. You will lose many friends to war, you will attend funerals for the first time, and you will witness horrifying scenes that you were always scared to watch in war movies. But you are loved, and there will be beautiful moments amid the uncertainty and darkness that shine so brightly. You will discover more about yourself along the way.
But also, leave the Kyiv Independent office a little earlier on Feb. 23 so that you can get a good sleep in (I left at 2 a.m. on Feb. 24 and the invasion started a few hours later).
Toma Istomina, deputy chief editor
I didn’t sleep on Feb. 24, 2022. The days leading up to the full-scale invasion were already crazy enough to keep me in the office until late at night, and by late I mean past 2 a.m. By the time I got home, it was already clear that tonight was the night when Russia would go through with its sick plan.
Just 30 minutes before the first explosions rocked Kyiv and Russian tanks started rolling over Ukrainian borders from all sides, I published a post on Instagram, saying:
“Again and again we prove to have something Russia can only envy. We are united, we are courageous, and our values prevail in the face of hundreds of thousands of fully equipped troops encircling our country. We might have been unfortunate to share a border with Russia. But we are damn fortunate to have each other. And nobody will ever take that away.”
Three years later, after everything we’ve been through, I couldn’t say it better. If I could go back in time to the eve of the full-scale invasion, I would take my own phone, open that post, and read it out loud to myself, with a lot of confidence.
No words could have truly prepared me for the horror to come, but knowing my future self stood by this vision might have made it easier to see the light ahead.
Oh, and I would tell myself to call our developers and ask them to prepare our website for record traffic at 5 a.m. Waking them up after the full-scale invasion had already started to fix our crashed website? A bit awkward.
Natalia Yermak, reporter
I had a picnic on a frozen lake with my friends on the eve of Russia’s full-scale invasion. We fried eggs and sausages over a fire. I would have told myself in that moment that my old life was about to end forever. But I will not be the only one.
I’d also tell myself that my first impression of the war — that it is bigger than just Ukraine, and will change people’s lives all over the world — will prove more true than ever in a few years.
There are so many stories of strength and compassion that I’ll see over three years, and so many tragedies — more than I ever thought I could handle.
Telling these stories will help me to get through. They’ll stay with me, and hopefully, with you, our readers, so that one day, when you or I get to have a picnic with friends, we remember the people who stood up to evil to protect the good in our lives, and we ask ourselves: What can I do to repay them?
Elsa Court, audience development manager
I’d tell myself that it’s going to feel like the end. It’s going to feel like there is no hope, that Ukraine will be completely occupied, that you will never see Kyiv again. You’re also going to feel powerless watching what is happening from abroad, like seeing a tsunami or earthquake rip into a piece of land from afar. You will feel like you are standing there, frozen, as the unthinkable happens, and an unstoppable force swallows Ukraine.
But just because this is how it feels, doesn’t mean it’s true.
"Keep going, until the end."
First of all, it’s not the end — it’s only the beginning, and not just for Ukraine, but for all of Europe. You are going to see Kyiv again (in fact, you will move there two years later). And you will find working at the Kyiv Independent will make you feel like you have some impact, at least on how other non-Ukrainians like you understand Ukraine and Russia’s war. You will also find out that Russia is not an unstoppable force — but so far, only Ukrainians have dared to stop it.
You will become a lot less fatalist after moving to Ukraine — there’s something about being surrounded by people who continue to live, regardless of their neighbor’s best effort to kill them, that will change your attitude.
That doesn’t mean feelings of hopelessness will ever go away. When I feel particularly hopeless, a good Ukrainian friend tells me, “Elsa, do kinstya” — Ukrainian for "keep going, until the end." After three years, you still won’t know for sure when, or where, the end will be.
Kate Tsurkan, reporter
If I could go back and tell myself anything on the eve of the invasion, it would be this: prepare yourself.
You know what’s coming — you have no doubt. But you aren’t ready for the full extent of Russia’s cruelty. Prepare yourself for the fact that the country you were born in won’t help the country you love as much as it can or should. And its next president? He might betray us completely.
Prepare yourself to constantly worry about your friends on the front line, and to struggle with the dual feelings of gratitude and guilt from having some semblance of a normal life thanks to them.
Prepare yourself to see a video, after a Russian attack, where your friend is clearly not going to make it. It can happen again. It can happen to anyone you know — even you.
The fact that you will spend two weeks in Kharkiv without hearing a single explosion is dumb luck. Still, you should not shrug off every air raid siren like you will in Chernivtsi. You should not become so acclimated to the sounds of war.
Prepare yourself — because you will have a child. And no matter what happens, you won’t be allowed to cry about any of this in front of her. Your job will be to teach her to cherish her culture above all else, to hate Russia for bringing war to her lands, and most importantly, to survive.
Kateryna Denisova, reporter
Freedom means a lot to millions of Ukrainians, believe in your people — that is what I would tell myself on the eve of the invasion.
I’d also tell myself that this war concerns the whole world; there is no justice, but you should never lose hope and always act.
Back then, on the first day of Russia’s all-out invasion, as a Ukrainian and a journalist, I was sure that the world would not just sit by and watch; it would give us all the weapons we needed, close the skies, and do everything to stop Russia from destroying my nation. But this did not happen.
I would tell myself that it was in fact Ukraine — not other countries that are richer and have more means — that would be the most powerful and decisive in the moment, even as it seemed it was about to fall into Russia’s hands. Will was the only weapon that Russia did not have and will never have.
Dominic Culverwell, business reporter
I would tell myself to be mentally prepared for a hard and emotional three years. And to be strong because tomorrow morning, you are going to wake up and have a panic attack, but just know that your friends are going to survive the battle of Kyiv and the occupation of Bucha.
You are also going to meet some of the most incredible people and make amazing friends. Ukrainians are going to teach you so much about strength and unity but be prepared for a dark shift in your humor — it's a coping mechanism, so don't be alarmed. Ukrainians are good at cracking a joke in bleak times.
I’d tell myself that there's a long road ahead and moving to Kyiv during the war will be one of the best decisions you've ever made. Even though the night-time drone and missile attacks are exhausting and the stories you hear are emotionally gutting, you won't ever question your decision.
Anna Belokur
