Freed from Russian prisons, Ukrainian soldiers lean into counseling to rebuild their lives

Kyiv, Ukraine – Since his release from a Russian prison in April, Stanislav Tarnavskyi has been in a hurry to build life in Ukraine which he dreamed for three years of captivity.

The 25 -year -old offered his girlfriend, bought an apartment and adopted a Golden Retriever. And that was exactly what he did a week in July.

But as busy as he rekindles old relationships and by creating news, Tarnavskyi cannot shake the trauma that he and thousands of other Ukrainian soldiers lived as prisoners of war. The UN says that many have endured blows, famine and humiliation in the hands of their kidnappers – experiences that will leave life scars.

Tarnavskyi, who was captured during the Battle of Mariupol in April 2022, regularly nightmares on the prisons where he was detained.

“I see the officers who watched over us. I dream that they want to hurt me, catch me,” he said. When he wakes up, his heart beats, anxiety increases – until he realizes that he is on the outskirts of kyiv, where he was forced to move because Russia occupied his hometown of Berdiansk.

While the three -year war takes place, Tarnavskyi is one of the more than 5,000 former prisoners of war in Ukraine in rehabilitation with the help of regular council. Regardless of the physical injuries that may require attention, psychologists say that it is essential to monitor former prisoners of war for years after their release; The cost of war, they say, resonates for generations.

In a photography studio above kyiv, the capital of Ukraine, sunlight floods white walls. After a shoot that lasted several hours, Tarnavskyi said that brightness hurt his eyes, which are always sensitive to years in a dark cell.

But his mood could not be attenuated. The girlfriend who waited for her return had simply agreed to her surprise proposal.

“I love you very much, I’m very happy that you have waited for me,” said Tarnavskyi, holding a thick bouquet of pink roses and a ring. “You have always been my support, and I hope you will remain for the rest of my life. Do you want to marry me?”

Tarnavskyi said that it was the thought of Tetiana Baieva – that he met in 2021 – who helped him prevent him from committing suicide three times during captivity.

However, he has trouble speaking with Baieva about his prison time. He doesn’t want to be stung.

Shortly after his return home, he was paranoid, feeling looked at – a reaction to constant surveillance in prison. “If you got out of the line, they (the Russians) came to fight. I still receive flashbacks when I see cameras (surveillance). If I see one, I become nervous,” he said.

But every week that passes, he feels better, progresses the credits of Tarnavskyi at the work he does with a psychologist.

Very small stimulus – a smell, a breeze, a color – can trigger traumatic memories for prisoners of war, explains Kseniia Voznitsyna, director of the Lisova Polyana mental health center in Ukraine for veterans on the outskirts of Kyiv.

However, unlike stereotypes, ex-prises are not more aggressive. “They tend to isolate themselves, to avoid large rallies and to fight with confidence,” said Voznitsyna.

“They say time heals-five or 10 years old, perhaps-but that is not the case,” she added. “It’s just less intense.”

A 2014 study in the Journal of Behavioral Medicine revealed that the ex-Israeli Venterans and combat veterans followed over 35 years old had higher mortality rates, chronic diseases and good self-evaluated health-conditions partly linked to depression and post-traumatic stress disorder.

The study authors said that this is why it is crucial to monitor ex-power and give them specialized medical and psychological care as they age.

This logic sounds faithful to Denys Zalizko, a former 21 -year war prisoner who has returned to Ukraine for less than three months, but is already sure that its recovery will take a long time.

“You can’t go wrong. Even if you really want, you will never forget. It will always haunt you,” he said.

Zalizko said he had survived torture, suicide attempts and implacable blows for about 15 months in Russian captivity.

The first time her mother, Maria Zalizko, saw him after her release, she barely recognized him. He was thin and seemed “broken”, she said, with torments in his eyes.

Zalizko’s physical appearance is now almost completely different. His skin looks healthy, his muscles are tense and he has a lot of energy. But there is always sadness in his eyes.

Two things make him move forward and help empty his mind: music and exercise.

“Breaks and immobility bring anxiety,” says Zalizko.

Like Tarnavskyi, he received compulsory advice at Lisova Polyana Mental Health Center. And like many former prisoners of war, he still fights on hypervigilance – listening to threats, scanning his environment. At night, sleep comes into fragments, and it was true before even a recent increase in attacks on night drones in the Russian army.

For the families of prisoners of war, the reintegration process is also difficult.

A psychologist advised Maria Zalizko to give her son space, to avoid calling him too often. But it is Denys who often calls her, sometimes singing by phone – a skill that she taught her when she was a child.

“I love music. Music is united,” he said, touching the tattoo of a triple key behind his ear-inked after his return. Even in captivity, he sang quietly for himself, composing songs in his mind on love, the house and the war. Now he dreams of transforming this passion into an artist career.

“I have become stronger now,” said Zalizko. “I’m not afraid of death, not afraid of losing an arm or a leg, not afraid of dying instantly. I don’t fear anything anymore. ”