Four of my grandparents survived the second world war, but they were not willing to talk about it, having either survived the siege of Leningrad or come back from the frontline wounded. Their memories would leave them devastated on rare occasions.

I became a psychologist because of the lifelong experience of post-traumatic stress disorder. I wanted to end the vicious circle of trauma, abuse, self-neglect and fear. I could never have predicted the way I would use my skills a decade later.

On the day after the Russian invasion of Ukraine, I volunteered to join several crisis hotlines where psychologists were working to support those affected by the war. I couldn't stop the war, but I might try to reduce the damage. Some of the Ukrainian psychologists were working between bombings, while others were evacuated to a safer place. Quite a few of us, myself included, are living abroad in safety, a privilege that is often taken for granted.

Part of Anna Shilonosova’s documentary project in which she takes portraits of psychologists on video calls.

Part of Anna Shilonosova’s documentary project in which she takes portraits of psychologists on video calls. Photograph: Screengrab

Most of the Ukrainian people who text or call us had either just been evacuated or were still in areas of heavy shelling during the first weeks of the war. Those who escaped were suffering from survivor's guilt and shock from the war. Those who stayed were experiencing shock in a different way, trying to navigate through their daily spikes of anxiety.

A person was besieged in Ukraine. Their family had been hiding in a bomb shelter for days and they were having panic attacks because they had to care for elderly relatives and beloved pets. They had to make the right decisions.

Everyone's stress tolerance was thinner as the war developed. The people who fled Ukraine reported apathy and a lack of will to live. Old traumas are making it harder to breathe. Those who were still besieged were getting weaker mentally and physically, and they were finding it harder to cope with the sleep deprivation and constant levels of tension. In such situations, the main way we can offer support is by helping the person find things they can control, such as body relaxation or breathing techniques.

It became normal to receive text messages from people who hid in the shelter from bombs. We were not used to having to guess if the person had no network connection or if they were dead. I need to talk to someone, I feel drained, and I need an urgent vent call.

In order to help each other work through the tension generated by the sessions, psychologists who specialize in supervision support started to organize webinars and video conferences. A group of dance movement therapists recently launched a series of virtual meetups where they show how dance and movement can be used to cope with stress. If we burn out now, we won't be able to help.

Thank you for helping me find the strength to let my husband go to war, I needed to be heard. I found the courage to try and leave, and I am in a safe place now.

My grandma is the only grandparent still living and she struggles to relive her wartime memories. She emphasizes the importance of truth, especially during the times we are living in. My family and I have been spending a lot of time on video calls with her.

I started a documentary project to honor my colleagues. It's important to record this part of the war. I hope the war is over when I publish the project later this year. There is still a lot of trauma repair work to be done.

  • Anna Shilonosova is a documentary photographer and assistant psychologist.