It has been exactly four years since Russian tanks rolled across the border, yet for Anastasiia Pustovachenko, the war is not a distant memory but a daily notification on her phone. While the 22 year old economics graduate walks the granite streets of Aberdeen in safety, her mind remains trapped in the besieged city of Chernihiv. She represents a growing generation of young Ukrainians who have built a new life in Scotland but find themselves suspended in a state of permanent uncertainty.
The fourth anniversary of the full scale invasion this past week brought a mix of gratitude and fresh anxiety for refugees like Anastasiia and her peer Alisa Nartova. Both fled their homes as teenagers and navigated the Scottish university system alone. Now, despite holding degrees and contributing to their local communities, they face a new battle. They must secure their futures while a temporary visa clock ticks loudly in the background.
Escaping the Siege of Chernihiv
The journey to Aberdeen began in darkness and terror. When the invasion launched in February 2022, Anastasiia and her family were trapped in Chernihiv. Russian forces rapidly surrounded the northern city. They cut off electricity and water supplies while shelling residential areas. The city effectively became an island isolated from the rest of the world.
“It was unbearable,” Anastasiia recalls. Civilians had to dodge explosives left on the streets just to find food. The family eventually managed to flee to western Ukraine before the siege tightened completely. However, the psychological scars formed quickly. Anastasiia says the fear of stepping on a mine or hearing a rocket whistle overhead changes a person forever. By July 2022, her family made the difficult decision to send her to safety in the UK. She arrived in Inverurie, Aberdeenshire, with nothing but a suitcase and the hope of continuing her education.
Studying While the Bombs Fall
University life offered a distraction but not an escape. Anastasiia entered the second year at the University of Aberdeen, yet her experience was vastly different from her Scottish peers. While other students worried about assignments or social events, she sat in lecture halls clutching her phone.
“You see that there was bombing and you straightaway text your family,” she explains. Every vibration of her phone could mean tragedy.
To cope with this unique pressure, she and other refugees founded the Ukrainian Society at the university. This group became a lifeline. It allowed students to share their specific anxieties without having to explain why they looked tired or distracted. They created a space where the notification of an air raid siren in Kyiv was understood immediately by everyone in the room.
Key Statistics for Ukrainian Students in Scotland:
- Tuition Support: The Scottish Government waived tuition fees for eligible displaced students.
- Community: Universities like Aberdeen established dedicated societies to combat isolation.
- Mental Health: High rates of anxiety reported due to family separation.
Diploma in Hand but Uncertainty Ahead
Anastasiia graduated with an MA in Economics in July 2025. This should have been a moment of pure celebration. Instead, it highlighted the precarious nature of her legal status. She arrived under the Homes for Ukraine scheme. This visa provided immediate safety but was never designed as a permanent route to settlement.
The current visa extension policies offer only short term relief. Anastasiia wants to work and contribute to the UK economy. However, employers are often hesitant to hire graduates who cannot guarantee they will be allowed to stay long term.
“It has been challenging to find a graduate job,” she admits. The system creates a cliff edge for these young professionals. They have spent their formative adult years in Scotland. They have integrated and studied hard. Yet the path to permanent residency remains unclear. This legislative fog adds a layer of stress to an already traumatic existence.
The Weight of Survivor’s Guilt
Alisa Nartova shares this burden. She moved to Scotland from Kyiv in 2023 after a year working as a military linguist. The constant interruptions to power and heat in the capital had severely impacted her mental health. She came to Aberdeen to save her future, but she brought the war with her emotionally.
Alisa describes a profound sense of “survivor’s guilt.” She is safe in a warm apartment while her friends back home face daily threats.
“I have lost a lot of friends,” Alisa says. “Funerals are often a place where you would find yourself if you are in your 20s and from Ukraine.”
The grief acts as a constant companion. It does not fade with time or distance. Alisa had to navigate the complex university admissions process and culture shock entirely on her own. She lived with a stranger through the sponsorship scheme and had to learn a new way of life from scratch.
“The grief never lets go of you. You do not know where to put it and you just live with that.” — Alisa Nartova
The psychological toll is compounded by the duality of their lives. Scotland is now home. It is where they have degrees, friends, and favourite coffee shops. But Ukraine is also home. It is where their families are. It is where their hearts break daily. This generation of young Ukrainians is learning to carry two homes at once, even when the path to one is blocked by war and the path to the other is blocked by paperwork.
The resilience of students like Anastasiia and Alisa is undeniable. They have conquered language barriers, academic challenges, and the trauma of displacement. As the war enters its fifth year, their plea is simple. They want the clarity and security needed to plan a future that does not feel like it could vanish overnight.
How do you think the government should handle the visa situation for graduates who fled war zones? Share your thoughts in the comments below. If you want to show support, use the hashtag #UkrainianGraduatesUK on X and Instagram to share this story.
