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"My Journey Through Life: Young Adulthood" Part 6

Added 2025-04-17 16:01:03 +0000 UTC

I’ve always had a soft spot for plush toys—especially handmade ones. They just made my heart melt!

One day I stumbled upon a russian Instagram brand making adorable bunnies dressed in all sorts of outfits. I completely fell in love and started dreaming of owning one, but back then, they were crazy expensive.

Later, for my birthday, Nik decided to surprise me and ordered one of those bunnies—and I was over the moon! Although, to be honest, in real life they didn’t look nearly as magical as they did in the photos (turns out they Photoshopped all their toys for the product shots).

At some point, Nik suggested that I could try making and selling similar toys myself. At first, I dismissed the idea—I didn’t know how to sew, and I had no clue where to even start learning.

But the seed was planted. And eventually, it started to grow.

I started digging around, making calls, searching for someone who could teach me. There were no craft schools for this kind of thing in Dnipro, but I did find one woman who made handmade toys. I met with her and convinced her to give me a private masterclass on how to make a bunny like the one I had.

But first, I needed to either design or find a pattern for the toy. After a long search, I found a woman—her name was Elena, I think—who turned out to be the original creator of the bunny design. And as it turns out, the brand that made my bunny had stolen her pattern and mass-produced the toys she originally taught them to make.

Elena ended up suing them for copyright infringement in russia.

When I spoke to her, she said to me, “Make yours a hundred times better, just to spite them.” And she sent me her original pattern. I was beyond thrilled.

I spent months holed up in my room, ruining fabric after fabric, until I finally created one I was proud of. (Honestly, with my level of stubbornness, it would’ve been weird if I didn’t make it work 😂)

Let me give you a quick idea of the process:

First, you transfer the pattern to faux fur and cut out all the parts. Then you baste them and sew them up with a machine to make sure everything is sturdy. After that, you trim the edges and turn the pieces right side out.

Next comes inserting the movable joints into the arms, legs, and head (yes—they were fully movable!). Then you stuff each part with hypoallergenic fiberfill.

After that, you “sculpt” the face with thread, shaping it just right. Then comes the eyes—I hand-painted every single one and sealed them with industrial lacquer. Eyelashes and eyelids came next, using little scraps of faux leather.

Then you trim the face, attach the nose, shape the mouth, and slowly assemble all the pieces.

One bunny would take up to three full days to make.

If I needed to make a custom bunny—completely based on a client’s photo—I would replicate the person’s clothes, accessories, and do everything I could to make the bunny match the look of the person it was meant to represent.

If I needed a specific print or illustration on the bunny’s outfit or paws, I’d work with an artist who would create the drawing, and then I’d have it professionally printed at a print shop.

The most time-consuming part of it all was the logistics—sourcing materials, finding the right people to help, and handling all the little details behind the scenes.

For example, the very first bunny I made was a gift for my mom, and it featured tiny portraits of our pets.

You can also check out a short promo video we filmed for my website—it’s still one of my favorite things 🎥💗

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1CzFv3hMv6DYBUHTQAMY_LteZaPtmixJT/view?usp=drivesdk

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1XRwn7FBQ4p2OFOxnq0z2SVh0bVwvrN8f/view?usp=drivesdk

I created my own brand, registered it officially in Ukraine, and started selling through Instagram. Later, I learned how to run an Etsy store and moved all my sales there, plus some other handmade-focused platforms.

I experimented with different styles and packaging. Other small brands eventually copied my packaging ideas 😅 I had my own custom-printed white cardboard bags with ribbon handles, care instructions, 3D stickers with my logo, and even little heart-shaped chocolates with my branding inside each package.

Every bunny was wrapped in pink tissue paper, and I always kissed them on the nose before shipping them out. I put my whole soul into each toy—they were like my children. I loved what I was doing with all my heart.

I started designing new models with new patterns, collaborated with other Ukrainian brands… Once, two sisters from Zaporizhzhia came to work with me—they made gorgeous handmade chocolate. You’ll see one of our collabs in the photos: a little chocolate deer 🦌

Over time, photography faded into the background, and I mainly shot for my toy shop.

I really believed that this was my calling—making toys. 😅

Then came the big question: should I continue my studies and go into my fifth year of university?

I didn’t see the point. I had zero interest in becoming a translator.

After a lot of thought, Nik and I decided to study abroad instead. We chose Warsaw—it was the most accessible option at the time.

I decided to transfer to a photography academy.

But I was terrified of moving to another country. Someone suggested I visit an astrologer. I had never been to an astrologer or numerologist before, so I figured why not.

And from that moment on—everything started to change. Slowly, but surely.

She told me my fate was to live abroad, that I’d meet my husband there, and that I would become a vegetarian, become known worldwide, and do something that would help change the world for the better.

And the very next day—I never touched meat again. Why wait for tomorrow if you can start today?

I’d always dreamed of not eating animals. But my mom used to tell me that only rich people could afford that kind of lifestyle (back then, nobody even knew what “vegan” meant in Ukraine). She said replacing meat was too expensive—and I believed her 🙃

But as time went on, I dove deep into research on veganism. I read every book I could get my hands on, studied nutrition, learned about the environmental impact of animal agriculture… and I became that activist vegan who stands on the street with a screen showing slaughterhouse footage, urging people to stop eating meat.

Eventually, even most of my family—including my grandma!—stopped eating meat for about two years. (They knew I’d lose it if I found a dead animal in the fridge 🤣)

Nowadays, they eat fish and sometimes chicken again. I understand—they simply don’t have the means to buy vegan products consistently. Though my mom still gets vegan sausages and seitan deli meats sometimes. My grandma can’t afford that unless I bring her a whole haul of soy milk and vegan yogurts when I visit.

But that’s a story for another day. 😊

Of course, Nik and his whole “crew” just mocked me when I picked pieces of sausage off my pizza. They’d laugh and say I’d never make it, that I’d go back to eating meat anyway, and I should stop with the “bullshit.”

But she also gave me a name—an important one—that ended up changing everything: Rami Bleckt.

I started reading his books one by one. He became a real guide for me into the spiritual world. Thanks to him, I began to wake up—finally.

Then I discovered Eckhart Tolle and started to understand how our mind, our brain, and our consciousness work, and how we can learn to live fully in the present moment—to stop letting our mind and false ego loop endless thoughts about problems, the past, the future, and so on.

I started seeing the world with entirely new eyes. It felt like a veil I’d been living under my whole life was slowly lifting. And of course, I started seeing Nik in a completely new light too.

We moved to Warsaw. My parents drove us there themselves, with all our things, and helped us find a place to live.

We ended up renting a tiny 35-square-meter apartment, but it was incredibly cozy and located right in the city center—so we agreed, thinking it was a fair trade.

I cried watching my parents drive away from our balcony.

There were still three months before classes started at the photography academy, and for the first two, we had to attend intensive Polish language courses—five days a week, full days.

By the way, when we took the B1 Polish exam, I had the highest score in the group 😄 (though my Polish today is… very, very far from what it was back then 😅)

And yes, knowing that my dad wasn’t around and no one could protect me here—Nik got bold. Almost immediately.

In Dnipro, I used to go to strength training and TRX classes, and one day at the gym, I approached the director of the sports complex. He was a fairly well-known martial arts instructor, and I explained my situation to him. I told him I was soon moving to Warsaw with my abusive boyfriend and that I needed to learn some serious self-defense techniques to protect myself from him.

Naturally, he was pretty shocked to hear all that, but he told me the more reasonable option would be to leave that guy altogether, instead of learning how to defend myself from him 😅 Which, of course, made a lot more sense 🤣

He said there simply wouldn’t be enough time to teach me anything truly useful in just a couple of months, unfortunately.

So I bought two pepper sprays and kept them hidden on me at all times.

During one of our usual arguments in the hallway, he looked at me with wild, angry, bulging eyes and hissed, “I’m gonna smash your fucking jaw right now.”

And in that second—something snapped inside me.

I silently pulled out my phone and started dialing my dad.

Oh, you should’ve seen Nik’s face 😅 After all those years of me never once complaining to my parents—who had no idea what kind of person Nik really was—he just couldn’t believe I was actually going to tell my dad.

He just stood there, stunned, speechless, staring at me.

Even I didn’t expect it from myself—but I did it.

I didn’t explain anything. I just said, “Hi Dad. I need your help. Nik is standing in front of me right now, threatening to break my jaw.” That was enough.

My dad just said, “Put him on the phone.”

Ohhh, the look on Nik’s face. It was priceless. He was terrified—and seeing that alone gave me such satisfaction, you can’t even imagine 😅

All I later found out from my mom was that my dad told Nik- “If you don’t pack your shit and leave that apartment right now, I’m grabbing my gun, getting in my car, and I’ll drive straight through to Warsaw without stopping, and when I’m done, no one will ever find your body. I don’t care if I end up in prison for it.”

Nik handed the phone back to me. My dad told me to let him know when Nik was out of the apartment—and hung up.

And then I saw it—for the first time ever—Nik completely broken. He walked slowly to the bedroom, sat on the bed, and started sobbing. Loudly. Desperately. I was frozen in shock.

And that’s when my “hyper-empathy and pity syndrome” kicked in. And guess what?

Yep. I FELT SORRY FOR HIM. 😅🤣

I walked up to him, and he got up and started packing his things slowly from the wardrobe. I asked, “Where are you going?” He said he’d stay in a hostel until he found a place.

I just stood there, watching him sniffle and blink, looking absolutely pathetic, and my empathy-meter shot straight into the red zone. So I said-“You can stay here until you find something. But you’ll sleep on the couch in the living room.”

And he whimpered, “No… I’ll go…” and started crying again. (Oh, how he loved feeling sorry for himself, poor thing.)

And yep—I started convincing him to stay.

I just couldn’t throw someone out like that—even someone like Nik.

So yeah, he stayed.

And ended up living on that couch for another six months. 🙈