The horrors of war do not simply vanish; they continue to live in the subconscious, as if sealed inside an isolated capsule. Over time, this capsule begins to crack, and the nightmares break into consciousness, building a new reality filled with endless flashbacks and bursts of aggression. These are signs of severe PTSD (Post-traumatic stress disorder).
Senior Sergeant, manager at the 3rd Naval Forces Recruitment Center of the Armed Forces of Ukraine, Olha Shypytsyna, told Kyiv Post about her difficult path of fighting for herself and her soul.
We were all infantry
When visitors enter the 3rd Naval Forces Recruitment Center of the Armed Force of Ukraine, they often notice a calm and confident woman in uniform. She patiently helps recruits fill out documents, explains military service conditions, and supports those hesitating before a life-changing step. This is Senior Sergeant Olha Shypytsyna. For most, she is an experienced soldier now working with people. But behind her composure hides an inspiring survival story.
Olha first encountered the full-scale invasion in Mariupol, as part of the 36th Marine Brigade. At that time, a junior sergeant, she served as a dining hall instructor. But after the Russian attack, she had to take up a weapon and keep it ready to use at all times.
“The times and conditions were such that everyone became infantry. And although women weren’t directly sent to frontline positions, different situations required readiness to fight,” Olha says.
Together with her comrades, under endless shelling and bombardments, she defended the city to the last in the Azovstal still mill. Then a new and even harder challenge appeared: captivity in the notorious Olenivka prison – torture, terror acts, and finally, the long-awaited exchange.
Torture at night, executions by day
“The guards in Olenivka were Ukrainians from the occupied Luhansk and Donetsk regions,” she recalls. “They tried to curry favor with their masters. Every time we were taken out of the cell, they kicked us with their boots on the ankles – even the women. The entire prison staff were men, and they were the ones torturing us.”
Nights in Olenivka were no less brutal than days.
“They often tortured our men at night so we could hear and be unable to sleep. When one woman couldn’t take it and cried, they began beating her too,” Olha says.
There was practically no medical care. The prisoners had to try to treat the beaten and maimed with only a handful of medicines they had managed to bring from Mariupol. It was a fight for life and humanity in inhuman conditions.
“Their psychological pressure was very cruel. They would take people out of the cell supposedly for execution. When it happened 15-20 times, we lost our fear and began joking: ‘Let’s call our families so they can at least send you money for bullets. Maybe buy two at once, since you probably won’t kill us with the first one.’ The hardest part was the uncertainty of what the next day would bring. Even at the plant in Mariupol under shelling, it wasn’t as hard as there.”
What helped her to make it through was the belief that she was needed by her family, her children, her mother.
“I was interested in psychology before, and I told myself: everything has a beginning and everything has an end. One day, this will end too.”
The captives supported each other – crying, laughing together. A true inspiration was Maryana Mamonova, who gave birth to a daughter just days after being freed.
I was diagnosed with PTSD
After Olenivka, the women were taken to a pretrial detention center in Russia’s Voronezh region. The conditions were different: they were “fattened up” before the exchange to create the illusion of humane treatment for international observers. But no extra rations could erase the scars – neither physical nor psychological.
“I was diagnosed with PTSD. After captivity, I underwent psychological testing. They told me that this period crystallized in a capsule, and the later it opens, the harder it will be to cope with the consequences. The first signs appeared a year and a half after my return.
For the first six months, the world seemed very bright – everyone on earth felt like a friend, except the ‘orc neighbors.’ Everything was wonderful, I was free, I felt I could do anything. But then it began to crash down.
Psychologists explained to me that my psyche, to preserve sanity, had isolated the period of Mariupol under shelling and captivity from me. But eventually, it starts to open up, and more and more details come back.
In my case, this even turned into psychosomatic symptoms. It became hard to walk. My body, for no reason, refused to move. I had problems with walking, with my musculoskeletal system. I ended up barely walking with a cane. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t look people in the eye. I was in a constant state of aggression, which I controlled, but even on public transport I wanted to break and crush the people around me, tear them apart.”
Seeking help is not shameful
Part of her recovery process was talking to journalists.
“For me, talking to journalists is like psychotherapy. I can speak out, unload my mind,” Olha shares.
She stresses that psychological support after captivity or traumatic experience is no less important than physical treatment.
“Please, don’t close yourself off. Seek help, work with psychologists. It’s very important that family and loved ones support this process. For men it’s especially hard because of stereotypes – as if asking for help isn’t manly. But when we are physically sick, we still go to a doctor.”
When she could hardly walk a year ago, her family and brothers-in-arms supported her decision to see a psychologist. Olha went through a multi-stage rehabilitation program, worked with several psychologists, and insists: it’s impossible to cope with PTSD alone – you must find your specialist, overcome stigma, and be ready that the first sessions may seem pointless or even ridiculous. But therapy works.
Today, Olha Shypytsyna’s example proves that even after the darkest trials, one can find the strength to live, help others, and serve the country again.