She vividly told me about her mother and sister, with whom they go to the forest to pick mushrooms, and that her brother and father are in captivity.
She didn't communicate well with her peers and gravitated toward adults, seeking protection. When she walked away from me, her friend immediately approached me and said, "Is Nastya talking about her mother and sister again?"
It's true about my father and brother, but not about my mother and sister—they died in front of her eyes, killed by tank fire. But...
She refuses to accept this and remembers them as if they were still alive.
After therapy, the girl seemed to come alive, began to communicate with her peers, started dressing like a girl (previously she dressed like a boy), and graduated from school with good grades.
He keeps asking me to organize a camp for older children.
Ilya was born in Mariupol, a sunny city by the sea, where he dreamed of the future. But on February 24, 2022, everything changed forever.
When the shelling began, Ilya's family urgently left for the village of Nikolskoye, where his grandparents lived. The first few weeks were a real test: no heating, food cooked on a fire, a constant shortage of the most necessary things — and every day, every night, the sounds of explosions coming from his hometown. The city where he had spent his childhood was burning.
The family had to flee further—through Russia to Georgia, and then to Turkey. For half a year, they...
They lived in a foreign country, expecting the war to end soon. But it did not end. Eventually, the family returned to Ukraine and settled in Kamensk, a city where they had to start from scratch.
That was when our foundation appeared on Ilya's path.
We invited him to participate in rehabilitation camps—first in Switzerland, then in Germany. There, he received not only psychological support, but also what he had been missing for so long—a sense of security, new friends, and inspiration to continue living.
But the most important discovery awaited him at an IT camp organized with the support of the foundation. It was there that Ilya first encountered the world of design—and realized that this was his calling. What had previously seemed like just playing with pictures turned out to be a real talent.
Today, Ilya is studying web design at an IT academy in Stryi. He is learning new programs, creating projects, and becoming more confident every day.
Ilya's dream is to be independent. And he is taking steps toward it.
Every year we come to Lviv with concerts for the children of Mariupol. And every year the same boy runs up to me — to hug me and take a photo.
Later, I learned his story: his father was in captivity. His mother was by his side, holding on as best she could. And every year he would come, hug me, call me "dad," and quietly say, "If I hug my dad, then my father will feel my love there, in captivity."
And in these moments, I understand: children are stronger than war. Their love transcends walls, borders, and darkness. And for the sake of this love, we have no right to stop.
You can help...
Sometimes help begins with a simple request: "Please pay attention to her." That's exactly how the girl's mother approached our team. Her father was in captivity, and Marichka herself was in a state where her childhood seemed to have "shut down": anxiety, detachment, anger, and fatigue became her daily reality. Her mother said that her daughter had been undergoing therapy with a psychologist and psychotherapist for a year, but there had been no noticeable improvement.
According to her mother, a year ago Marichka went through a difficult crisis — so deep that...
that at some point in life, it was hanging by a thread. Mom talked about it without going into details, but with that unmistakable pause in her voice: it was a fight for her child's life.
When Marichka arrived at the camp, she was unsociable: she didn't talk to anyone, avoided eye contact, and was shy around everyone. Any attempt to make contact could provoke an aggressive reaction — not because she was "bad," but because this is sometimes how a child who has been through too much protects themselves. Marichka spent most of her time on her phone — as if it were safer there than in the real world.
We knew the main thing: sudden movements don't work here. That's why Marichka had what is often most valuable for a traumatized child:
expected daily schedule;
adults who do not disappear or judge;
safe rules of interaction;
the ability to remain silent for as long as necessary.
Step by step, Marichka began to "thaw." At first, she just stayed close to the group. Then she stayed a little longer during group activities. And at some point, something happened that is difficult to measure in numbers but easy to recognize with the heart: by the end of camp, she was playing dodgeball with everyone, laughing and having fun.
«You gave me my child back».
My mother's words are not about "magical healing." They are about returning to the basics: curiosity about life, contact with people, the ability to rejoice without fear that joy will inevitably be followed by pain.
The biggest twist in this story came later. Marichka arrived at the next camp trip a changed person: she hadn't just adapted — she had taken on the role of leader of the girls' team.
For adults, this may sound like "good news." For a child who, until recently, did not speak to anyone and hid from the world, this is a sign of a very profound internal change:
trust in the environment has emerged;
there was a feeling of support underfoot;
there was a willingness not only to accept support, but also to give it to others.
And yes, this does not mean that everything will be easy forever. But it does mean that the child gains experience: I can cope; I am not alone; there are people around me.
Why we are telling this story
Because war affects children not only through explosions and displacement. It affects their sleep, trust, ability to make friends, plan, and laugh without fear. Sometimes a child "shuts down" so much that the adults around them feel powerless.
Privacy note: The child's name has been changed to protect their identity. The text is based on verbal testimony about changes in the child's behavior after participating in the camp.
Sashko is a boy from Mariupol. The war affected him in a way that no child should ever have to experience: he witnessed his father's death. After that, Sashko seemed to "freeze" — he became very withdrawn, reserved, kept to himself, did not want to be photographed, and had difficulty with his studies.
When he arrived at our camp, he was initially quite reserved. We did not pressure or coerce him — we simply remained nearby: calm, humane, supportive, and without unnecessary questions. And somewhere along the way, the first small changes began to appear — not dramatic, but genuine.
What we felt most strongly was...
This was after camp, when his mother called and left a review. She said that two months had passed and Sasha seemed like a different person: he had become more outgoing, started studying better, and began not only taking photos but also photographing! At home, they don't recognize him — in a good way.
And then something else important happened: Sasha began writing poems in Ukrainian — Ukrainian poems about Ukraine. It was as if he had found words where before there had only been silence and inner turmoil.
There are children who lost everything in the war. We were told directly about this boy: he is an orphan who lost both parents in Mariupol. That is why we do not mention his name — we only carefully tell his story.
How we see each other in Dnipro
He is still too young for camps. But we have found another way to be close to him: every year we come to Dnipro with concerts. And every time we meet him there — we play, talk, and organize a party for the children, as much as we can...
It's possible. It has become our "thing" — to come and give him some warmth.
«It's like he's returning to childhood.»
After such meetings, his guardians leave us feedback — they say they are very grateful because these concerts and games are like a breath of normal life for him. And most importantly, according to them, he seems to return to childhood when he comes to such events. It is for moments like these that we continue to come.
