“Asking for help is not a weakness — it’s a position of strength” – interview with Mariia Lagodna-Elert

Forced emigration can make a person feel as if they are living between two worlds: physically — already in another country, yet inwardly — still “there.” The rules of life change, as do language, social roles, and the sense of stability and safety. In such circumstances, psychological support is not a luxury — it is a way to regain solid ground under one’s feet.

Mariia Lagodna-Elert — a practicing psychotherapist with more than 20 years of experience — has joined the team of the “From heart to heart” project, implemented by Fundacja HelpNow HUB and Step by Step Fundacja in partnership with Fundacja Res Humanae, with financial support from the Elton John AIDS Foundation.

Below is a conversation about forced migration, professional identity, trauma work, safety in therapy, and the sources of support one can find even in the most difficult times.

Mariia, you yourself have gone through the experience of forced emigration. What turned out to be the most unexpected part of it for you?

The most unexpected thing for me was precisely the forced nature of this migration. Like many Ukrainians, we did not prepare for the move, we did not plan it, we did not build a strategy. It was not a conscious choice — it was a necessity.And the difficulty of forced migration lies not only in changing countries. It lies in the fact that the inner processes are still unfinished — you are physically no longer at home, yet psychologically you remain there. And at the same time you have to adapt very quickly to new conditions that often differ radically from what you are used to — in the healthcare system, in social rules, in the professional sphere. The skills of functioning in your own country suddenly lose relevance. Not all of them, of course, but there arises a need to form new competencies practically from scratch. It is like a child discovering the world. But there is a fundamental difference. A small child has no prior experience — they explore reality “from a blank page,” without expectations. An adult has a background, established ideas about how things “should be.” And when the reality of a new country does not match these expectations, a strong inner dissonance arises. Planned migration provides support: prepared documents, language, understanding of the labor market, a job found in advance. There is a base you can rely on. In forced migration, this base often does not exist. There is only the experience of a past life and expectations that do not align with the new reality. And it is precisely this mismatch that becomes one of the most difficult challenges.

Was there a moment when you felt you were starting over — not only your life, but also yourself as a specialist?

Yes, there was such a moment. And it was very tangible. The profession of a psychologist and psychotherapist is directly connected with language — not simply knowing it, but having a subtle feel for meanings, subtexts, nuances, intonation. Language is a working tool. And when you find yourself in another country without knowing it well enough, the first thing I felt was as if I had lost myself as a specialist. It was not easy. It seemed as though part of my professional identity had temporarily disappeared. The turning point was returning to practice — at first through online therapy. When clients gradually began to return, it became a real breath of air. I realized I could work differently — not as before, but no less professionally. The online format opened up new opportunities: working with Ukrainians in different countries, supporting those who are also going through migration, maintaining my practice remotely. And it was this return to the profession — in a new format — that gave a sense of a new beginning. Not only work, but a new stage of life.

What did emigration change in your view of psychological help?

I cannot say that migration itself radically changed my view of psychological help. Rather, it deepened it. My professional knowledge was enriched by personal experience. And that is a completely different level of understanding. When you yourself go through adaptation, live through a loss of support, confusion, and a rethinking of identity — you begin to feel more subtly the processes migrants experience. There was more empathy for the invisible difficulties: the inner split between “there” and “here,” the sense of temporariness, the fatigue of constant adaptation. I understood more deeply how the forced nature of relocation affects people, how expectation and disappointment work, how self-esteem and professional identity change.
So my professional perspective did not change — it became broader. And more alive.

Did it become easier or harder for you to work with migrants once you found yourself in that experience?

To be honest, without my own therapy it would have been much harder for me to work with migrants. When you live through forced migration yourself, many client stories can be triggering. Their experiences — about losing home, status, professional support, the feeling of “I’m not who I was anymore” — resonate strongly with your own. And without sufficient internal resources, that could complicate the work. My personal therapy became my support. It helps me separate what is mine from what belongs to the client, recognize my own reactions, and remain in a professional position. Thanks to this, I can be with the client not from the place of “I know how much it hurts,” but from a place of stability and support. So I would say this: the migration experience made the work deeper. But the ability to work well in this area is ensured by my own therapy.

What personally helps you maintain resilience in a new country?

First of all — my family. I am very grateful to God that I am here together with my husband and children. In the first period my husband became my main support, because he had been in this country even before the start of the full-scale war and already had some understanding of the local reality. That gave a sense of ground under my feet. The professional environment also plays a big role. I have a circle of colleagues — a kind of support group — where I can be honest, discuss difficult cases, share feelings. It is a very valuable resource. And, of course, my personal therapy and supervision. They help me maintain inner balance, be aware of my processes, and have enough support to keep moving forward — both in life and in my profession.

Mariia, how do you describe your role today: psychologist, psychotherapist, crisis specialist? What matters most to you in this work?

Today, first and foremost, I feel like a psychotherapist. That is how I define myself internally.
My professional path has been long and consistent: from working as a psychologist in a psychiatric hospital, as a clinical psychologist — to many years of training in psychotherapy, personal therapy, and supervision. It was a process of becoming — deep and gradual. And today I love the craft of psychotherapy the most. I feel close not only to the result, but also to the process itself — attentive presence, exploring a person’s inner world, careful work with their experiences and changes. I see myself specifically as a psychotherapist — a specialist who works not only with symptoms, but with the person, their story, meanings, and inner supports.

You have worked in the Gestalt approach for many years. In two or three sentences: what exactly does it give people in crisis and in emigration?

Gestalt therapy gives a person the opportunity to stay in contact with themselves — with their body and emotions — and to remain in the “here and now.” And that, in turn, helps them ground themselves and feel support. Therapy also helps a person live through their experience and emotions — not reject them and not forget them, but live through them, because living through pain becomes a path to healing.

What requests do you most often see from forced migrants and refugees — and what truly helps in the first 1–3 sessions?

The most frequent request is the absence of a sense of safety. Many people, even in relatively calm conditions, do not feel safe internally. The body continues to live in threat mode. And then the first task becomes stabilization — a gradual return of a sense of support, control, predictability.

Also, at the beginning of the full-scale war, many clients said that they “stopped thinking normally,” “as if they began to reason worse.” This is a natural reaction of the psyche to danger: when there is a threat, the activity of the cerebral cortex decreases, and a person shifts into survival mode. And again — it is about the loss of a sense of safety. Therefore, in the first 1–3 meetings, the most important thing is not deep analytical work, but stabilization. Creating a safe therapeutic space, normalizing reactions (“you are okay; this is a natural response to traumatic events”), basic grounding techniques, restoring contact with the body and reality. When a minimal sense of inner stability appears, then it is possible to move further.

The second frequent layer is relationships. Migration often radically changes the family system. If we speak about Ukrainians, someone close may remain in Ukraine: a husband, parents, relatives. Distance, long separation, different living conditions — all of this adds strain to relationships. New conflicts emerge, questions of trust, a sense of emotional distance. Another very frequent request is the loss of identity. A person stops feeling like who they were in their country. Professional status, social role, familiar circle of communication, even language — all of this changes or temporarily disappears. And with it comes the inner question: “Who am I now?”
In migration, many people face a sense of self-devaluation, as if their previous experience no longer has weight. This is a very painful process. Therapy in this case is not a return to an “old version of yourself,” but a gradual discovery of a new one. A careful process of integration: preserving your past experience while simultaneously forming a new “self” that already takes into account the reality of another country. And this process requires time, support, and inner safety.

In your experience, you work a lot with trauma, anxiety, panic attacks, shame, guilt. What signals suggest that a person needs stabilization first, rather than “analyzing causes”?

If we talk about guilt and shame, it is important to understand what stands behind them.
Trauma is not always about physical danger. It can be a danger to my “Self” in contact with others. For example, in relationships with parents in childhood, an attachment trauma may have formed — when love was conditional, when a child experienced rejection, criticism, emotional coldness, or unpredictability. In such cases, shame and guilt become a way to preserve the bond: “something is wrong with me” instead of “I am being treated in a dangerous way.”
Then the work is longer. It is connected with restoring the experience of healthy relationships, with forming safer attachment, with gradually changing the internal model of contact. And in this process it is truly important to explore the causes — where these feelings came from, in which relationships they were formed (in the family, at school, in other significant relationships).
In contrast, work with trauma or panic attacks usually involves a specific situation of danger in the past that the psyche could not cope with in the moment. There, the priority becomes stabilization and safe processing of this experience. So in each case it is important to distinguish: are we dealing with an activated state of danger that requires stabilization, or with deep feelings of shame and guilt formed in relationships that require longer therapeutic work with their roots.

You use different methods (including EMDR/ASSYST, Brainspotting, EFT). How do you choose what fits a particular person so that it is gentle and safe?

For me, the key criterion is the client’s state and the type of traumatic experience.
For example, ASSYST is one of the EMDR protocols that works well for processing a relatively “fresh,” single traumatic event that happened recently (roughly within the last year). But it is not an optimal tool for old, deeply rooted, or complex traumas. If I see complex traumatization, the first stage is always stabilization. Sometimes it can take a long time — months, and sometimes a year or more. Without enough resources and an expanded “window of tolerance,” deep trauma processing can be too intense.

EMDR is an effective method, but when working with severe traumatic memories, the client can become emotionally “flooded.” If the nervous system is not ready, it can be too strong an experience.

In such cases, I may suggest Brainspotting. This method allows gentler work: through focusing on bodily sensations and the inner process, with attention to a specific eye position. Sometimes the client does not even go into detailed memories — the process unfolds at a deeper, neurophysiological level. This makes it possible to gradually expand the window of tolerance while carefully touching traumatic material. I use EFT and other regulation techniques when it is necessary to activate the parasympathetic nervous system — reduce anxiety, stabilize the state, and restore a sense of control over the body. So the choice of method is not about “which tool is better,” but about what is safe for this person at this moment and whether they consent. I always orient myself to the level of resources, the capacity to withstand intense experiences, and the pace that suits this particular client.

What safety rules do you consider basic in trauma work in order not to retraumatize a person?

The first and key principle is the presence of another person. In trauma work, the client should feel real contact with the therapist: that they are not alone in this experience, that there is a stable, holding figure nearby. Trauma is often connected with experiencing isolation and loss of control. When a difficult experience is “shared” with another, it becomes more bearable. If I carry it alone — it is unbearable. If I can share it — support appears. The second principle is mandatory stabilization before processing trauma. We need to understand what type of trauma we are working with and how deep the preparation should be. Even if the stabilization stage is short, the client must master basic techniques:

– grounding,

– breathing regulation,

– finding inner and outer resources,

– skills of “containing” painful experiences,

– bringing oneself back to the “here and now.”

This is important so that in the processing work, if a person goes beyond the window of tolerance, they already know how to help themselves. We do not start learning from scratch in a moment of crisis. The third principle is control in the client’s hands. In trauma, control was lost. In therapy, it is returned. The client always has the right to say “stop,” slow down, change the topic. This is a fundamental safety rule. If overload arises during the work, we immediately return to stabilization and stay there as long as needed. The fourth principle is that there is no need to retell every detail of events.Modern methods such as EMDR or Brainspotting allow working with traumatic memories without detailed verbal retelling of every detail. Sometimes internal activation of the memory is enough to begin processing on a neurophysiological level. This significantly reduces the risk of retraumatization. And one more important point: we do not process “everything at once.” The work proceeds gradually: separate memories, the most charged episodes (the first, the last, the most vivid), forming a kind of map of experiences. And then we work with these fragments consistently and carefully. Safety in trauma work is not speed. It is a pace the client’s nervous system can handle. Another mandatory element in my work is psychoeducation.
I always explain to clients what is happening to them: why the body reacts this way and not otherwise; why panic attacks, flashbacks, numbness, or, on the contrary, hyperarousal appear. When a person understands how the nervous system works, the level of anxiety decreases significantly. It is very important that the client does not perceive their symptoms as “something is wrong with me.” On the contrary — these are natural reactions of the psyche to abnormal events. I also explain what exactly we will do in therapy, why a particular technique is needed, how it works, and what result we expect. This returns a person’s sense of control and participation in the process. Psychoeducation is not just information. It is a way to reduce fear of one’s own reactions and create a safe, conscious therapeutic process.

How do you set boundaries: what clearly belongs to the help a foundation psychologist provides, and what already requires another specialist (psychiatrist, doctor, lawyer, social worker)?

For me, the key is a clear differentiation of professional competence. I always ask myself: is this within the scope of psychological/psychotherapeutic work, or is it already the domain of psychiatry or another specialization? My clinical experience working in a psychiatric hospital helps me see symptomatology — for example, the depressive triad, signs of severe mood disorders, possible psychotic manifestations. If needed, I can use psychodiagnostic tools to better differentiate the condition. But if I see that this is a disorder requiring medication treatment or psychiatric support, I обязательно refer the person to a psychiatrist. My task is not to replace a doctor and not to comment on or interpret medical diagnoses. That is not my area of responsibility. If the issue concerns legal or social difficulties, my role is emotional support. I help the client withstand tension, cope with anxiety, and find inner resources to get through a difficult situation. But I do not take on the functions of a lawyer or a social worker.
Sometimes my work includes helping with accepting a diagnosis, normalizing the state (“you are not the only one with this experience”), reducing stigma around medication treatment, and supporting motivation to follow a doctor’s recommendations. But this is always psychological support — not medical decisions.

You have experience working with LGBTQ+ people and training medical staff on preventing discrimination toward people living with HIV. What do you consider the most common source of pain for people from stigmatized groups — and how do you work with it in a supportive way?

Most often, the source of pain is not the identity itself and not the diagnosis. It is the experience of rejection, stigma, and inner isolation. When a person repeatedly faces condemnation, devaluation, or discrimination, an inner tension forms: “something is wrong with me,” “I am dangerous,” “I have no right to be visible.” And very often external stigma gradually turns into internal stigma — a person begins to look at themselves through the eyes of a discriminatory environment. This creates chronic stress, increased anxiety, difficulties in building close relationships, shame, fear of openness, отказ from medical services, isolation. Particularly painful is the experience of rejection from family or significant figures. In my work, it is important first and foremost to create a safe space without judgment. A space where identity or HIV status is not a “problem,” but a part of the person’s life. This helps work with internal stigma.

How do you create a sense of safe space for someone who has repeatedly faced judgment or unsafe situations?

The first step is clearly stated confidentiality. A person needs to know that everything they say in therapy stays between us. This is the basic level of safety. But in reality, a safe space is created not only with words. People who have faced stigma, discrimination, or judgment for years are extremely sensitive to nonverbal signals. They very subtly read intonation, pauses, facial expressions, shifts in gaze. The slightest sharpness in the voice, a hint of evaluation, a raised eyebrow, an overly intent or, conversely, detached look — and the person immediately goes into alert mode. That is why a safe space is, прежде всего, contact. A calm tone of voice, soft, unhurried speech that helps grounding. An accepting, stable gaze without surprise or a hidden reaction to status, identity, or the client’s experience. An open, even body posture.It is important that all of this is not a technique, but authenticity. If what I say and what my body conveys match — a person feels it. And only then does the possibility appear to gradually relax and begin to trust. A safe space is not a declaration. It is an experience of contact that the client lives through with their senses.

You have extensive experience in interdisciplinary work (psychiatrists, doctors, teams). What does ideal collaboration within the foundation look like to you so that support is holistic?

Ideal collaboration within the Foundation begins with the team’s clear understanding of each specialist’s roles and competencies. Everyone should know whom they can refer a client to — and do it not formally, not simply “Go there,” but concretely, describing needs and the request.
For example, if a client needs social or legal support, the psychologist can write to the social worker: “This person needs help with new or emerging problems that appeared during the consultation.” Then the social worker immediately knows how to support the client, and the client’s anxiety level decreases because they see clear steps — and awareness also reduces anxiety. It is also important to voice your competence boundaries during the consultation. If I cannot answer a legal or medical question, I say so directly and refer to the appropriate specialist. Misunderstanding or attempts to answer outside one’s field can increase the client’s anxiety if I say something incorrectly. For me, the key principle is constant communication between specialists, the ability to consult and share experience — both professional and personal. This allows creating a holistic, safe, and effective support space where the client feels supported at all levels — psychological, medical, social, and legal.

You have led Balint groups and burnout prevention. What helps teams avoid “burning out” in helping work, especially in NGOs?

The main way to prevent burnout is changing activities. If you work as a psychologist or psychotherapist and carry a high emotional load, it is important to switch to physical or other activity that allows you to “release” emotional tension. This gives the body and psyche rest and recovery. Support from colleagues is very important. A place where you can “let off steam,” share experiences, discuss difficult cases significantly reduces the risk of burnout. In helping professions, emotional burnout is directly connected to “person-to-person” work: we are constantly in contact with others’ pain, anxiety, and suffering, and it affects us.
Another factor is awareness of one’s own limits and acceptance of limitations. We are not gods, and we cannot do absolutely everything for every client. Often the results of our work are not visible immediately or are small, and this can create the feeling that “I’m doing nothing” or that my work does not matter. Balint groups help overcome these feelings: exchange of experience, feedback, and colleagues’ support restore meaning and value.

So the burnout-prevention комплекс includes:

• changing activities to restore resources;

• regular peer support and supervision;

• awareness and acceptance of one’s limits;

• support of Balint groups and the opportunity to share experience.

All of this creates conditions for resilience and safe help both for the team and for clients.

What would you say to someone who hesitates: “I feel uncomfortable asking for help” or “it’s not serious enough”?

First, the feeling “I’m uncomfortable asking for help” or “I don’t have it as bad as someone else” is very characteristic of our mentality. We are used to surviving, not living, and we often perceive acknowledging the need for support as a sign of weakness. For many clients, this is truly a critical moment — admitting they need help. It is important to understand that asking for help is not weakness, but a position of strength. It shows awareness and the ability to care for oneself, recognize one’s limits and needs. It is not humiliation, but a resourceful action that makes a person more resilient and more grounded for themselves and those around them.
As for the thought “it’s not that serious”: people often compare their pain to someone else’s — for example, someone lost a loved one, while someone else experienced the loss of home or a familiar life during the war. But pain has no “rank” or “comparison.” Every loss is real and painful. The experience of a migrant who lost their home, familiar way of life, social ties is also real pain — and it deserves support. So reaching out for help is an act of strength, self-respect, and self-care. It allows you to recover, become stronger, and in the future be a support for others. Support is not a luxury — it is an essential resource for healthy life and a healthy society.

Name 3 simple self-support techniques for intense anxiety/panic that you often give at the beginning of work.

Here are three effective techniques that help you ground yourself, regain control over the body, and reduce anxiety:

The grounding technique “5-4-3-2-1”

This exercise helps you return to the “here and now” through bodily sensations and the environment.

5 senses: notice five things you can see around you.

4 touch sensations: notice four tactile sensations — for example, the coolness of a tabletop under your hands, the roughness of a carpet under your feet, the wind on your face.

3 sounds: listen for three sounds — a clock, birds, the distant hum of cars.

2 smells: notice two smells — coffee, perfume, a candle.

1 taste/sensation in the mouth: notice the taste in your mouth, or take a small bite of food and notice its taste.

A breathing technique to activate the parasympathetic nervous system This helps restore balance between the sympathetic and parasympathetic systems. Choose a rectangular object (a door, a monitor, a phone). Inhale while guiding your gaze along the short side of the object, then hold your breath. Exhale while guiding your gaze along the long side, then hold your breath again.
Repeat for 1–2 minutes. Your breathing becomes controlled, with a longer exhale, which activates the parasympathetic nervous system and brings a sense of calm.

The “Butterfly” technique This exercise grounds and rhythmically calms the body. Cross your arms over your chest so that your fingertips touch the upper part of the lungs, or place your hands on your shoulders, or under the collarbones.Gently tap alternately with your fingers: left hand, right hand, left again.

You can match the tapping rhythm to your heartbeat — it should be slow tapping. . Do it for 3–5 minutes to feel stability and reduce anxiety. These simple techniques can be used even at the beginning of a session or in moments of distress to quickly regain control over bodily and emotional reactions.

What in your practice over the past years has most strongly strengthened your faith in people and in recovery after crisis?

Observing migrants who find themselves in a foreign country, I see how people “grow again” — as if from ashes. In psychology, there is even a concept of post-traumatic growth: people learn to find new meanings even if they have lost the past. If we talk about people who remain in Ukraine now, it is striking how powerfully they adapt to radically changed conditions. There is physical danger, lack of electricity and water, difficulties with transportation and getting to work. And yet they find ways to adjust, survive, organize their lives. This demonstrates the incredible strength of the psyche and the body’s natural orientation toward survival. Such resilience and adaptability inspire and give hope that a person can cope even with extraordinary circumstances. I always remember a metaphor from supervision many years ago. This very metaphor supported me for these 4 years. We were working with a case of loss, and outside the window in the Carpathians there was a forest. My supervisor pointed to a burned spruce tree and said: “Look — after some time a new forest will grow on this ash. Ash becomes fertilizer, seeds remain, they mature, favorable conditions appear — spring comes, warmth comes, and new trees sprout.” The same is happening now with people who have experienced forced migration, and with those in Ukraine who are living through the war. Their task is to give themselves a new life, create “new shoots,” new possibilities. And I see how they build a career, a business, new relationships, friendships, support from scratch. Some, despite their own difficulties, help others: they weave nets for the military, support volunteer projects. This is an incredible discovery of new horizons and resources for a person. Those who survived and rebuilt their lives become stronger, broader inside, with more possibilities. This is what most strengthens my faith in people and in their ability to recover after crisis.

If you could say a few words of support to people who are currently going through emigration, trauma, or an inner crisis, what would it be?

When I first faced forced migration myself, there was a feeling that the world had collapsed and that the situation would remain this way forever. Four years passed, and now, looking back, I understand: the picture changes, a person grows, and finds new opportunities. I want to remind everyone who is going through emigration, trauma, or crisis now: look into the future — 5, 10, 15 years ahead. Truly, you will not remain at the point where you are now. You are moving, looking for a new job, new friends, support, working through your state. Every small step leads you to changes, to new opportunities.Treat what is happening to you now as a new experience. Maybe it is hard, maybe painful — but it is precisely what helps you become stronger and gives you a chance to grow again. As in the metaphor about burned trees: on the place of burned spruces, a new forest grows with time. This is the force of life — unshakable; it always works toward renewal. Our brain and body are built to survive — and we will survive. I sincerely believe that.

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This publication was prepared within the framework of the project “From heart to heart” in partnership with Step by Step Fundacja, in partnership with Fundacja Res Humanae, with financial support from the Elton John AIDS Foundation.

“Support means friends, professionals, and people who have walked this path”: an interview with Oleh Zaitsev, HelpNow HUB representative in Kraków

When we talk about forced migration, the word “adaptation” comes up a lot. But behind it are very specific things: electricity, internet, work, safety, the ability to stay useful, and to keep in touch with Ukraine. Oleh Zaitsev is the HelpNow HUB representative in Kraków and a two-time internally displaced person who has traveled the road from Luhansk to the Kyiv region and later to Poland. He has worked for many years in the social sector and in HIV services, and today he helps the Ukrainian community abroad navigate support systems and avoid being left alone with barriers.

We spoke with Oleh about two displacements, choosing Kraków, working during blackouts, barriers migrants face in Poland, and what matters most for someone who has just learned their HIV status.

— Oleh, could you briefly tell us where you’re from, how you ended up in Poland, when, and why Kraków?
— First of all, I’ve been an IDP twice. I’m originally from Luhansk, so this is my second displacement.
I came to Poland at the end of 2022—during the first major blackouts in Ukraine. I was living near Kyiv and working on Ukrainian contracts. When the power went out, mobile service and the internet went out with it—basically everything. And with a private house, if there’s no electricity, there’s no heating, water, or sewage either. I had to keep working, and that became the key reason for moving.
Why Kraków? Because it’s the closest large city to Ukraine. I often needed to travel to Ukraine for work, and in 2022 the connections weren’t as well organized yet. Warsaw is far, while Kraków was the best logistical choice.

— You mentioned you’ve been displaced twice. How did your first internal displacement happen?
— It happened gradually. Back in 2013, I started traveling, looking around, searching for work in Kyiv. And in 2014, when everything became clear, the decision was finalized: I would live in territory controlled by Ukraine. That’s when I made the final move to Kyiv.
That was also when I began working in HIV services.

— Did you have experience in the civic sector before that?
— Yes. My first experience in NGOs was back in 2004—at a Luhansk regional children’s community organization. Then came another major chapter: I worked in children’s camps for more than 10 years, and for six years I worked at a school.

— In what role?
— A school activities coordinator. Today they’d call it an event manager. (smiles)

— When you moved to Kraków, how did adaptation go? What surprised you?
— The move came with a feeling of “temporariness.” We agreed with the landlady on a six-month lease—and throughout that time we lived with the thought: “tomorrow we pack up and go home.” Because of that, I didn’t learn the language, and I didn’t build long-term plans—as if you’re not really here, just “on pause.”

— At that time, were you still working with the NGO “100% Life”?
— Yes, I continued. But one project ended in June 2024. Then there was another one—related to supplying and distributing kits to healthcare facilities and residential institutions. That project ended on March 31, 2025.
After that, there was a pause, and now I have several projects in Ukraine—both humanitarian and social. In parallel, I’m developing my work here in Poland.

— Was there a period when you traveled a lot between Poland and Ukraine?
— Yes. In one of the projects, my task was to travel and check distribution points: how aid was stored and how it was distributed. In six months, I visited around ten regions—from Sumy to Volyn.
It was an exhausting rhythm: 28 days in Ukraine, then back to Poland, then 28 days in Ukraine again. At first it was manageable, but later you catch yourself waking up and not understanding where you are.

— You’ve worked in the social sector for a long time. Why work with key populations and HIV services specifically?
— In 2014, I was rather accidentally invited to try HIV services. I started as a social worker at a community center in Kyiv. Then it grew from there: training, new tasks, different roles. There was a period when I worked outside HIV services but still in NGOs—and later I returned, already in the central office of “100% Life.”
I like that it’s a broad field: development, advocacy, community work, many directions. And it’s always people—communication, new connections. Especially now, when we’ve been scattered across the world, that sense of network and mutual support is particularly valuable.

— From your experience: what barriers do migrants most often face in Poland, and how can they overcome them?
— In Poland, the key barriers are language and legislation. My advice is simple: look for organizations that understand the field and can guide you correctly. There are truly many organizations in Poland, and what’s important—information about HIV testing can even be seen in Ukrainian on public transport; there are announcements and voice messages. So “entry points” do exist—it’s important to use them.
If we talk about internal displacement within Ukraine, one of the first challenges is finding an infectious disease doctor in the city you arrive in. Plus access to medication and understanding where things are available, because the situation changes and it’s hard to “track” consistently.

— And what would you advise someone who has just learned their HIV status? How can they get through the acceptance stage?
— First, it’s important to remember: everyone reacts differently. But my basic recommendation is to reach out to a psychologist. And second, to find peer-support groups—the “peer-to-peer” community. Even if there is no psychologist, real people who live with it are a huge support.
It’s also important to have “your people” nearby—friends, loved ones, relatives who don’t dismiss you and aren’t afraid. Without support, it’s much harder to get through it.

— You raise the issue of stigma and prejudice. What do Ukrainians encounter in Poland?
— Sometimes it hurts to hear the narrative that “Ukrainians brought an epidemic.” It’s bitter, because in reality a lot depends on testing: if there’s little testing, there’s little detection. That’s how it works everywhere.
There’s another point: in Poland, testing isn’t always offered automatically—sometimes you have to insist and ask. Without that, the problem becomes “invisible,” and then myths and accusations are easily born.

— What are your professional and personal plans for the coming year?
— Professionally, I want to better understand how Poland’s healthcare system works, how the sector and foundations operate, and how rules and processes differ. I want to understand the system better so I can provide higher-quality consultations.
Personally, I want more stability and a clearer sense of “rooting” here. Right now, there’s a lot of mixed environments, different communities, many overlapping processes. And I want to be effective in my new role—as a consultant and as the HelpNow HUB representative in Kraków.

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This publication was prepared within the framework of the project “From heart to heart” in partnership with Step by Step Fundacja, with financial support from the Elton John AIDS Foundation.

“I want people to know: it is possible to live a full life with HIV”  — an interview with Anastasiia — HelpNow HUB volunteer and regional representative in the Czech Republic

The war has forced many Ukrainians to start their lives from scratch — in new countries, cities, and roles. Anastasiia is a volunteer with the HelpNow HUB team and a regional representative in the Czech Republic. She lives in Prague with her son and speaks openly about the experience of forced displacement, adaptation, searching for stability, and about topics that are often silenced — living with HIV, self-stigma, and the need for up-to-date information and support.

— Anastasiia, could you tell us a bit about yourself? Where are you from, how long have you been in the Czech Republic, and where do you live now?

— We are from Ukraine, from the Donetsk region. I currently live in Prague with my child. We arrived in the Czech Republic in the summer of 2022. The first months were extremely difficult — both emotionally and in everyday life. I only spoke a little English, everything felt scary, and after the shelling my child became very anxious and was afraid to stay without me.

At first, we were sent to a dormitory in a small industrial town — the conditions were very hard and completely unsuitable for living with a child. Later, we had to move again and search on our own, because free housing involved long waiting times and rental prices were very high. Eventually, we moved to Prague, where I found better living conditions and finally a kindergarten for my son. In smaller, industrial towns this is a real problem.

— What was your path of adaptation like: work, childcare, everyday life?

— At first, I started learning Czech, and at the same time I found my first job — cleaning in a hotel. I often took my son with me because he couldn’t stay without me — he had strong anxiety, attachment issues, and fear. After completing Czech language courses, I still couldn’t find a job in my field, and I realized that I wouldn’t be able to continue like this for long — neither physically nor psychologically.

Later, I saved some money and decided to study manicure and pedicure. I worked in a salon for two years. And then everything began to fall apart. My husband and I divorced while living apart, my child experienced bullying at school, and at work it was very hard — from early morning until almost night, five to six days a week, while my son was often with a nanny. That’s when a deep reassessment of values happened. I decided to start everything from scratch.

— You often speak about responsibility and inner change. What was the turning point for you?

— War puts everything in its place very quickly. Illusions collapse instantly. You realize that material things are not the most important. Life and health are. I had a period when my health declined significantly — I was losing consciousness, completely exhausted. And then I clearly decided: I no longer want to live in a constant mode of running and fighting.

I started learning a lot — reading books, studying psychology, taking courses, working on self-development. And I came to the conclusion that I want to connect my life with helping people — because I know what it’s like to feel scared, ashamed, in pain, and to have no one who can calmly explain and support you. But the world will not hear us if we remain silent.

— You openly address the topic of HIV and the stigma around it. Why is this so important to you?

— Because it is still a taboo topic. So many people are afraid to speak. They hide, feel shame, think they will be hated or rejected. And this destroys people from the inside.

When I learned about my HIV status, I encountered specialists who were not very empathetic — I didn’t feel support or trust. There were situations where I was treated as if I were dangerous: distance, gloves, multiple masks. I would leave feeling like I was “different” or “dirty.”

That’s why I want to be the person who can say to someone else: “You are not alone. Everything will be okay. The most important thing is not to stay alone with this, not to remain silent when you need advice or answers, and not to make dangerous mistakes. There is always a solution.”

— You mentioned that there was a time when you stopped taking therapy. Why did you decide to talk about this?

— Because I know how it can end. At a certain point, I believed people who deny treatment and even the existence of HIV, and I stopped taking my therapy. After some time, I started getting seriously ill — one illness after another. I was hospitalized, and my test results were very poor. Only then did I return to therapy and slowly begin to recover.

It’s important for me to say this out loud not for “drama,” but to warn others so that someone doesn’t repeat this experience. Especially if a person has children and loved ones who depend on them. I personally know many people with very similar stories. I may not know “the perfect way,” but I know for sure: don’t do it like this. Because I lived through it myself.

— How are people living with HIV generally treated in the Czech Republic? Do you see a difference compared to Ukraine?

— For me, the difference is huge. At first, I was also afraid to go to a doctor in Prague, expecting the same experience as before. But here I saw a completely different approach: HIV is treated as a chronic condition that a person can live with while receiving treatment — similar to diabetes, for example.

I am very grateful to my infectious disease doctor — she is empathetic, professional, and I feel respected. And another important thing: here, much more attention is given to sharing up-to-date knowledge with patients, which many adults lack. We often live with outdated information from school — and that’s where fear and stigma come from.

— What kind of support do Ukrainians arriving in the Czech Republic need most, especially people living with HIV?

— First of all, clear navigation — knowing where to go. Not every city has an infectious disease specialist. In small towns, people often have to travel to Prague, and if therapy is running out, this becomes critical. It’s very important for people to know from the beginning in which city they can definitely get a doctor and treatment.

Second, housing. This is a painful issue for everyone, but especially for vulnerable groups. In Prague, there is a Czech organization that supports people living with HIV/AIDS, including temporary shelter and social support — Česká společnost AIDS pomoc. It’s not a permanent solution, but as a starting point, it can help a lot.

Third, psychological support and work with self-stigma. Many people arrive already traumatized — by war and by previous experiences. But here it is really possible to find free psychologists, language courses, and employment programs. The key is not to remain silent and not to isolate yourself.

— What would you say to someone who is afraid to seek help or feels ashamed of their status?

— I would say: don’t stop. If someone refused you, it doesn’t mean that you are “wrong” or undeserving. It means that you knocked on the wrong door. There will be another person, another organization, another specialist.

You need to move forward in small steps every day, reflect, and listen to your body — it never lies. And one more thing: don’t focus only on the negative. Yes, it exists. But if you consciously notice at least one good thing every day — in people or in circumstances — you slowly build your future in the right direction. When we change ourselves for the better, the world starts to attract similar things.

— Finally, a new year means new plans. What do you dream about most?

— I want to be happy. I want conscious, mature relationships and a family. I have deeply rethought my responsibility in relationships and I want partnership and mutual understanding, where two people “work together.”

I also want to grow professionally. I plan to study social work, I dream of becoming a psychologist and social activist. It is important for me not just to volunteer, but to help people systematically — those living with HIV and those going through difficult periods and needing support. I want to share modern knowledge so there will be less fear and stigma, and more respect and understanding.

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This publication was prepared within the framework of the project “From heart to heart” in partnership with Step by Step Fundacja, with financial support from the Elton John AIDS Foundation.

“When you help others — you live”: a conversation with Inna Nehoda on supporting Ukrainian women in Germany and confronting invisible violence

As part of our work, we speak with people who work daily with vulnerable groups, support women and children, and help them overcome discrimination and trauma. Our interviewee, Inna Nehoda, is a psychologist, human rights advocate, and anti-discrimination trainer. Since 2009, she has worked in Ukraine’s civil society sector; for more than ten years, her primary place of work was with the NGO «100% LIFE» (Kyiv Region).” She also served as a regional representative of “VOLNa” (the All-Ukrainian Association of People with Drug Addiction) and collaborated with “Free Zone,” engaging for years in advocacy and projects focused on people in places of detention. Since the start of the full-scale invasion, she has been living and working in Germany, where she supports the Ukrainian community — from women to teenagers.

When russia launched its full-scale invasion, Inna was eight months pregnant. She left Kyiv with her two children, hoping to give birth in safety. She assumed she would return soon — but life unfolded differently. In the small town of Schwarmstedt near Hanover, where Inna settled, she noticed that Ukrainians were completely disoriented: people struggled with paperwork, didn’t know the language, and had nowhere to gather. “I saw Ukrainians just wandering around the streets. Nowhere to meet, no one to ask for advice. Complete chaos.” She decided to act: she found partners, wrote a small project, and founded the Ukrainian club “Offene Herzen” in Schwarmstedt. “My husband and I went to the migration office, took the forms, and asked them to show us how to fill everything out. We said: we’re going to help people.” The club quickly became a space for connection, mutual support, and integration for both adults and children. It has now been operating for more than two and a half years.

At the same time, Inna began working as a trainer at the Ukrainischen Verein in Niedersachsen e. V in Hanover. Over the course of a year, nearly 500 Ukrainian women attended her trainings on discrimination and bullying. The issues they bring most often involve psychological and emotional violence. “Mobbing is very widespread here — both among adults and teens. And often it’s not coming from Germans, but from other migrant groups.”

Teenagers’ stories are the ones that affect her the most. She recalls a girl who became afraid to leave her home: “She was scared to walk down the street. It was no longer just about a few boys — it was fear of all people. She felt like everyone was watching, everyone was following her.” The police did not help in that case — but psychological support, trauma-informed work and time eventually made a difference: “We got through it, and she grew past it.”

When asked why women are often afraid to seek help when facing violence or discrimination, Inna identifies three main reasons: lack of language skills, lack of knowledge of the law, and a lost belief that anyone will help them. “Ninety-nine percent of people never planned to leave. They’re traumatized. They don’t believe they can prove anything or that anyone will defend them.” Some have even experienced the police refusing help — which reinforces fear of institutions.

Inna’s message is always the same: “To say ‘I won’t achieve anything,’ you at least need to try. If every woman stays silent — nothing will ever change.” But she adds that before entering long legal processes, people need to regain inner strength. “Sometimes psychological support has to come first. Because writing reports, learning the laws, making calls, going to offices — it all takes enormous resources.”

She notes an increase in divorces among Ukrainian women abroad, many of whom are raising children alone — a situation that adds stress, isolation, and vulnerability. At the same time, Inna leads support groups for women in Hanover and works with teenagers and adults who have lived through difficult, sometimes traumatic events. “I work with people who have gone through challenging or traumatic experiences and are now looking for ways to regain stability, resources, and trust in life,” she explains. “When I’m in motion — I live. When I stop — I don’t feel well.” She is sustained by her work, learning, community, and the support of her husband. “When you see that someone truly needs your help… it’s incredibly motivating.”

At the end of our conversation, we asked if she fears burnout. Her response perfectly captures her worldview: “The more I do, the easier it becomes.”

It is especially important to hear stories like Inna’s — not only about dramatic cases of physical violence, but about the quiet, everyday forms of exclusion, isolation, and bullying; about how these experiences shape the lives of women and children who have survived war and forced migration. And, at the same time, about the strength of community, the importance of knowing one’s rights, and the fact that support exists, even where it may be least expected.

Inna says: “If you have even a little bit of strength — try to reach out for help. It might save not only your life but someone else’s as well.” And these words underline the central truth: in the fight against any form of violence, the first step is to stop being silent.

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This publication was prepared within the framework of the project “From heart to heart” in partnership with Zjednoczenie Pozytywni w Tęczy and Step by Step Fundacja, with financial support from the Elton John AIDS Foundation.

Stepping out of the darkness: Margarita’s story

Margaryta (name changed) is a 36-year-old Ukrainian woman who now lives in a small town in Slovakia with her young daughter. When they left Ukraine, Margaryta was certain that the worst was behind them. But the real fear had lived not abroad — it had lived for years in her own home.

For several years, Margaryta was in a relationship where psychological pressure and control became her everyday reality. She grew used to having her words twisted, her feelings dismissed, and every step she took met with her partner’s explosive reactions. “For a long time, I believed that if I stayed quiet and tried harder, things would get better,” she says.

With time, psychological violence escalated into physical aggression. Margaryta continued to stay silent — for the sake of her child, for the illusion of stability, for a hope that faded day by day. Fleeing abroad because of the war unexpectedly gave her a chance to look at her life from a distance. “Despite all the pain and longing for home, it was here that I first felt I had the right to peace. To choice. To myself,” she recalls.

At the local refugee support center, Margaryta was advised to speak with a psychologist. After the very first session, she realized how much pain and guilt she had carried inside her for years. “She told me:‘What happened to you is not your fault.’I heard it — and for the first time, I believed it,” Margaryta shares.

A volunteer lawyer helped her with documents and explained all her legal options. This support became a turning point for her. “At that moment, I felt I wasn’t alone. That there were people willing to stand beside me,” she says.

Margaryta made an important decision — she left the relationship that was destroying her life. Today, she and her daughter live in a bright, peaceful home where, for the first time in a long while, they feel genuinely safe. They have created new rituals together, and Margaryta continues her sessions with the psychologist, regaining strength, stability, and hope for the future with each meeting.

“I chose freedom. And now I teach my daughter that every woman has the right to respect and safety — always,” Margaryta says. “Violence is never the victim’s fault, and every person has the right to live without fear!”

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This publication was prepared within the framework of the project “From heart to heart” in partnership with Zjednoczenie Pozytywni w Tęczy and Step by Step Fundacja, with financial support from the Elton John AIDS Foundation.

The Power of Professional Support: A Story of a Woman Living with HIV

The period when Lina (name changed) learned about her HIV status became one of the most challenging moments of her life. Fear, confusion, and a deep sense of uncertainty overwhelmed her. She spent a long time searching for support that could help her cope with the emotional strain and accept her new reality. Eventually, she reached out to the team of consultants from the HelpNowHUB Foundation, who provided her with the contact of a psychologist.

From the very first meetings, Lina felt she had found someone who not only listened but truly understood her. The specialist helped her work through her fears, release the burden of shame, and regain inner strength. Lina repeatedly emphasized how meaningful this support became for her: “I want to sincerely thank the psychologist for her understanding, support, and incredible work with me! It’s true what they say — there are people who know how to shine! The warmth and joy that have appeared in me, I will continue to carry forward.”

Thanks to this work, Lina finally felt the peace and strength she needed to continue living fully and confidently. She rediscovered the light within herself — a light she now wants to keep and share with others.

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This publication was prepared within the project “From Heart to Heart” in partnership with Zjednoczenie Pozytywni w Tęczy and Step by Step Fundacja, with financial support from the Elton John AIDS Foundation.

As you feel: Olena’s story about the power of art therapy

“When we hear the word art therapy, the first thought that comes to mind is that it’s just something for children. I wasn’t an exception — at first, I was very skeptical,” recalls Olena (name changed), a client sharing her experience of working with psychologist Maryna.
She admits that she agreed to the online sessions more out of curiosity than belief in any real outcome. But after just a few meetings, she realized that even remotely, the method has a powerful effect. “Through the process, I saw the results for myself — it really works,” she says.

Before that, Olena knew very little about art therapy. “We hadn’t heard much about this approach, because it only became an official healing strategy in 1940 — recognized for its effective impact on the mental well-being of adults as well,” she explains. For her, this was an important discovery: art therapy isn’t just ‘drawing to relax,’ but a full-fledged psychotherapeutic method.

The online sessions with Maryna turned out to be a much deeper experience than she expected. “Working with Maryna wasn’t about drawing a picture or making a collage — it was a deep process of focusing on my feelings and imagination,” Olena shares. It turned out that even through a screen, it’s possible to create an atmosphere of trust and openness — where real change can happen.

“She changed my perception of what it means to create — to do it as you feel,” Olena smiles. According to her, this helped her release tension, allow herself to be honest, and accept her emotions without judgment.

Olena also gratefully recalls the team that helped her find her specialist and have an experience that became much more than just online meetings — a journey toward deeper self-understanding through art, color, imagination, and trust:
“I’m grateful to the HelpNowHUB Fundacja team for connecting me with the practitioner who worked so flexibly with my needs.”

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This publication was prepared within the framework of the project “From heart to heart” in partnership with Zjednoczenie Pozytywni w Tęczy and Step by Step Fundacja, with financial support from the Elton John AIDS Foundation.

On the border: a story of support in Slovakia

Andriy (name changed) moved to Slovakia a few months ago. He brought with him a supply of ART from Ukraine — hoping that later he would be able to organize deliveries through friends or during visits home. However, time passed faster than he expected: his medication was enough for only a week or two.

Feeling lost and anxious, Andriy reached out to the HelpNow service for assistance. He didn’t know how to access treatment in a foreign country, where to go, or whether he would even be accepted. The service’s consultants provided him with detailed information — where to apply, which nearby center accepts migrant patients, and how to behave during his first visit.

Now Andriy is waiting for his doctor’s appointment to start receiving treatment in his new country of residence. The HelpNow consultants remain in contact with him and are ready to support him at any moment should he need help again.

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This publication was prepared as part of the “From heart to heart” project in partnership with Zjednoczenie Pozytywni w Tęczy and Step by Step Fundacja, with financial support from the Elton John AIDS Foundation.

A matter of life: why HIV testing remains a challenge in Poland and Central and Eastern Europe

An HIV test is not just a medical procedure. It is a moment of truth that can change a life, save health, and protect others. Yet in Poland and across Central and Eastern Europe, this truth often comes too late. And this is not a statistical accident, but a result of fear, stigma, and insufficient attention from both the state and society.

In Poland, the HIV situation has sharply worsened over the past two years. According to the National Institute of Public Health, in 2023 there were 2,876 new HIV cases—the highest number ever recorded. By comparison, in 2021 there were just over 1,400 cases. The increase over two years is nearly double. Particularly alarming is the growing number of people diagnosed who have lived with the virus for a long time without knowing it. In 2023 alone, 165 people were diagnosed with AIDS simultaneously with HIV detection —50% more than the previous year. At the same time, only about 10% of Poland’s adult population has ever been tested for HIV.

More than two-thirds of new cases are among men, most often aged 30 to 39. However, the proportion of women is increasing—about 21% of new diagnoses in 2023. And this issue is not unique to Poland. According to the World Health Organization (WHO) and the European Centre for Disease Prevention and Control (ECDC), in 2023 there were 113,000 new HIV diagnoses in the European region, and 52% of them were detected too late, at a stage of severe immune system weakening. In Central and Eastern European countries, this figure is even higher, especially among heterosexual men and people over 40. Approximately 17% of all people living with HIV in the region do not know their status.

Late diagnosis not only means worse prognoses but also a higher risk of mortality. Studies show that among patients diagnosed late, the death rate is 37.8%, while among those diagnosed early it is only 13.3%. But behind these numbers lies more than medicine. These are stories of fear, stigma, social isolation, and distrust of doctors.

“We see that the fear of knowing the truth is still stronger than the desire to protect oneself and loved ones,” says AnnaAriabinska, Director of Fundacja HelpNowHUB. “Our project ‘We Are Different – We Are Equal!’ creates a safe space for those who fear judgment. We say: a test is not a sentence. It is a chance at life.”

The project “We Are Different – We Are Equal!”, implemented by Fundacja HelpNowHUB with the support of the AIDS Healthcare Foundation and AHF Poland, is aimed at supporting people in vulnerable situations: migrants, people with disabilities, and members of the LGBTQ+ community. The project team organizes free and anonymous HIV, hepatitis C, and syphilis testing in Polish cities—from Warsaw and Białystok to Bydgoszcz. In addition to medical services, the project provides psychological, legal, and social support, teaches how to access treatment, and helps overcome barriers in healthcare.

A detailed schedule is available by phone: +48 786 640 460 or +48 575 023 612
or via the social media of Fundacja HelpNow HUB.AnnaAriabinska emphasizes: “Equality is not a slogan. It is our daily work. We fight so that everyone can take a test calmly, without fear, without shame. One test can save a life—and often does!

Life without interruption: Yulia’s story of resuming therapy in Poland

Yulia (name changed) reached out for help after already having a one-month break in her treatment. Previously, she received her therapy from Ukraine — friends either sent or brought her medication. But over time, this option was no longer available. Yulia kept waiting, hoping that someone might deliver the medicine, but the days passed, and the treatment gap continued. That was when she called a HelpNowHUB consultant.

The consultant explained to Yulia that it is important not only to have access to medication but also to undergo regular check-ups: monitoring viral load, CD4 levels, biochemical tests, and other essential indicators. She encouraged Yulia to register for care in Poland to ensure uninterrupted access to treatment.

Yulia filled out the required forms for the Center for Public Health, sent them, and received a copy of her medical record. The HelpNowHUB consultant helped her schedule an appointment with a doctor and prepared a detailed route on how to get from her town to the HIV counseling center. On the day of the visit, the consultant supported Yulia over the phone — from the bus stop all the way to the clinic doors, and even on her way back when she got a little lost again.

Today, Yulia has already received her therapy and the date for her next tests. She started taking her medication on the very first day. After she undergoes lab tests next month, she will be given a three-month supply of medication. This means there will be no more interruptions in her treatment. Moreover, Yulia listed the consultant as her contact person so that in the future, if needed, she could collect the therapy on her behalf and send it by mail. This will save Yulia time and help her avoid difficulties at work.

“I feel confident again. Now I know that I am not left alone with my diagnosis and that support is always there,” says Yulia.

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This publication was prepared within the framework of the “From heart to heart” project in partnership with Zjednoczenie Pozytywni w Tęczy and Step by Step Fundacja, with financial support from the Elton John AIDS Foundation.