A Ukrainian Psychologist's Story: Pain, Healing, and Hope on the Front Lines

Translation. Region: Russian Federation –

Source: United Nations – United Nations –

An important disclaimer is at the bottom of this article.

October 18, 2025 Peace and security

Eleven years ago, Irina was forced to flee her native Donetsk and move to another part of the Donetsk region, which remained under Ukrainian control. Eight years later, in February 2022, a full-scale Russian invasion forced her to flee her home again – this time, she found herself in Dnipro, which had become a humanitarian hub for thousands of people fleeing frontline areas.

But instead of despair, Irina, a trained psychologist, chose action. She joined the NGO "Proliska" (Snowdrop), a partner of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR). Irina helps people with "invisible" trauma.

"I was forced to leave my home twice myself, so I know what it's like to lose someone. We can only heal when we help others. You connect with them as an equal—as an equal. I understand them, they understand me—and that helps people open up," says Irina.

Her work often involves traveling to frontline communities or meeting with people in shock following the latest airstrikes, which have intensified in recent months. As part of the Podsnezhnika mobile team—along with other specialists providing support to the victims—Irina helps people find the strength to move on.

© UNHCR/N. Ivanovsky

Shock, despair, grief, fear, insomnia, emotional numbness are just some of the things she faces every day.

One day she met a boy who spent four days in a basement with his parents, hiding from shelling.

"They survived on pickles and water. When the boy finally emerged, he stuttered, was pale, and trembling. He could barely speak, but he began drawing. He drew the stairs they used to descend to the basement and what he felt there. I continue to work with him and his parents," Irina recalls.

Children are often the first to reach out to her – they take her hands and hug her when they meet.

"They seek support that their parents can't provide at this moment, because they themselves are unsettled and frightened. We stabilize not only the children but also the parents – we demonstrate breathing techniques and simple exercises so the whole family can cope with what's happening," she adds.

The elderly face their own challenges. Many are left alone: their children have left for abroad or other regions of Ukraine. Some elderly people resisted leaving until the very last moment, until evacuation became inevitable.

"Evacuation isn't just a change of residence. It's a profound emotional upheaval. Our role is to help people not only cope with the loss of their home but also find their way in a new environment and move on with their lives," says Irina.

© UNHCR/O. Platonov

According to UN estimates, approximately 10 million Ukrainians require psychological support, as the full-scale war has now continued for over 3.5 years. Since the beginning of the invasion, UNHCR staff, together with six Ukrainian partner organizations, have provided psychosocial assistance to over 300,000 people, both immediately after the attacks and after evacuation.

UNHCR teams work with thousands of people every month – on the front lines, in transit centers, and even on buses during evacuations, says Maria Vlasenko, assistant in the mental health and psychosocial support department. Specialists conduct individual consultations, group and family meetings, and art classes for children and adults.

"Psychological support is never isolated – it's linked to broader work: providing legal aid and social support, and referrals to specialized services. The needs of people who have survived war and displacement are complex and interrelated. Our goal is to help them recover and begin rebuilding their lives," says Maria.

Despite constant danger and uncertainty, Irina from "Snowdrop" continues her work. Every small sign of recovery reminds her of the strength of the human spirit.

"The most valuable thing about my work isn't just helping people here and now. What warms my heart most is when, some time later—after evacuation or shelling—I meet these people again: on the street, in a new city. They recognize me, come up to me, call, and tell me how they're doing. And that's the warmest feeling in the world."

Please note: This information is raw content obtained directly from the source. It represents an accurate account of the source's assertions and does not necessarily reflect the position of MIL-OSI or its clients.