A year has passed since Andriy left the frontline for home.
The fighting may now be hundreds of kilometers away, but the conflict still hasn’t let
him go.
Time and time again, his thoughts turn to the Donbas.
"I was dragging a wounded friend through the snow to safety.
You fall down, and the bullets are flying over your head.
You get a few metres further, and just end up falling down again -- because the fire
is so heavy."
Andriy spent three years on the front lines in Donbas.
As tensions rose, he volunteered with the nationalist Azov Battalion.
It was simply the fastest way to get to the front, he tells us.
Later, he served as a paramedic.
The constant vigilance that saved Andriy’s life in the trenches is now getting in the
way of adjusting to normal life.
He's just one of thousands veterans returning home to find that the war continues in their
minds and their bodies.
Andriy’s system releases adrenaline apparently at random.
"It happens really suddenly – everything can be fine and then (clicks his fingers)
I get all hot, I lose control over my arms and legs.
My heart starts beating like crazy and my blood pressure jumps.
Sometimes I get a full-scale panic attack."
Those are Just some of the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder, PTSD.
But for all that, Andriy sometimes wishes he could return to the front line.
Life as a civilian isn’t easy.
He doesn’t expect gratitude, Andriy tells us, but even finding work is a struggle.
Many businesses won’t employ veterans -- for fear they could turn violent.
Andriy has yet to receive any support from the government.
We put this to the Ukrainian military.
They deny they have a major problem on their hands.
"Of course, soldiers returning from battle have trouble re-adjusting.
That could be anything from heightened aggressivity to anxiety or depression.
But that all passes after three days at home."
More than 600 soldiers on active duty have taken their own lives since the conflict began.
So says Ukraine’s top military prosecutor.
It’s a figure that’s been making headlines in Ukraine for months.
But the army top brass dismisses the statistic.
"The true numbers are no higher than the Ukrainian average.
It would be wrong to say that we have a critical situation with suicides in the Ukrainian army."
Instead, activists are filling the gap left by government.
We’re in Verkhovina, high up in the Carpathian Mountains, about as far away as you can get
from the front line.
Veterans like Andriy can come here to take a break and receive support from psychologists
and art therapists.
It's an opportunity that’s only possible thanks to private donations.
For the next ten days, Andriy will be sharing every moment with the group, none of whom
he knew before coming here.
"I don’t want to see any bunnies, any flowers!
All I want you to do is experiment with the colours."
Before the war Vitalina Maslova was an art teacher.
What began as volunteering soon became a full-time job, helping veterans to find their feet.
But how do you get adults, let alone soldiers, to paint?
"I always say: just do it, try.
Our participants are always astonished when they see that they can produce something of
beauty.
What we’re doing here is to create an atmosphere of trust, in a safe place.
We’re surrounded by a beautiful landscape.
They can finally let go, and think about what they want to do with their lives.
"It’s been a while!
(Vitalina interrupts him – come on, it’s been 35 years at least – laughs) I’ve
never done anything like this.
I’m glad I came here, I just in a really good mood."
The group heads up the mountain, towards a cabin that Vitalina hopes will eventually
become a permanent home for the project.
But it's not just about the landscape.
"The villagers help our veterans to make sense of who it was they were actually fighting
for.
They meet people who truly are grateful to them.
That’s really important."
Chopping wood, picking apples or just letting go: it’s a welcome break after an intense
few days.
No-one can be sure how lasting an impact such a short stay can have, but already Andriy
seems like a changed man.
One with a plan.
"I want to use the experiences I’ve gained here to help others like me.
I’ve seen myself how tough it is.
I left the army a year ago, and still can’t find peace."
It won’t be easy.
The waiting list for this project is already closed, Vitalina tells us.
The donations have simply dried up.