If you see me in Kyiv, I’m probably sitting on a terrace in Podil – most often at Spelta – with a very hot double cappuccino, pretending it’s my office (because honestly, it is!).
If you see me in my village, I’m likely walking around the yard, talking to the dogs, or mildly dramatizing the fact that my mom’s goat ate the flowers again.

I live between those two states:
city terraces and rural earth, ideas and embodiment, reflection and emotion.

I’ve always been curious about what makes us feel alive, connected, and well.
People’s inner worlds, nervous systems, and stories fascinated me long before I had any language for “mental health.” Now I simply have better tools – and a little more self-awareness.

This page is not about my work.
It’s about my life behind it.

Hi, i’m Natalia.

Between two worlds

My childhood and adolescence unfolded between two very different places: Ukrainian village life in Cherkasy region and French city life in the north of France. From the age of eight, I spent three months every year in France – long enough to absorb the language, the rhythm, and the atmosphere of another world.

From Ukraine, I carry rootedness, resilience, emotional honesty, and a very alive inner world.
From France, I carry reflection, slow-life values, reflective softness, joie de vivre, and the habit of questioning everything that is “supposed” to be a certain way.

These two photos were taken the same summer — one in my village Smoridnya, one in northern France, in a small town Emmerin. I was eight: joyful, curious, emotional, and endlessly fascinated by people. I’m still curious… maybe a little less joyful (working on that), but now with better tools, better boundaries, and more understanding.

I like to think I took the best of both worlds:
Ukrainian emotional intensity + French reflective softness.
It’s an unexpectedly beautiful combination — and it shapes the way I meet people, create programs, and see the world.

What grounds my work

For me, mindfulness is not a technique.
It’s a way of being with ourselves and others – present, curious, non-judgmental, and grounded in the body. It creates conditions where children and adults can notice what is happening inside and respond with more choice, not just react.
Knowing the basics of how our nervous system works changes everything.
It shifts the questions we ask — from “What’s wrong with me (or this child)?” to “What is the nervous system going through right now?”
When behaviour starts to make sense, compassion becomes possible.
Neuroscience doesn’t replace intuition or humanity, it supports them.
That’s why nervous system literacy is quietly woven into everything I teach and create.
Creativity is one of the most powerful ways humans process experience.
Through drawing, movement, sound, and storytelling, we integrate emotions and access parts of ourselves that words can’t reach.
Change happens in relationships.
Methods matter, but how someone feels in the process matters even more.
Connection is the foundation of everything.

There is no health without mental health.

Before I ever taught mindfulness or worked with nervous systems, I went through burnout and anxiety that forced me to change the way I lived. Mindfulness entered my life not as a trend, but as a way to stay present, to stay alive, and to rebuild from the inside.

Here is a short video from MH4U mental health ambassador program that tells that part of my story — the moment everything shifted.

Where MHPSS meets my path

MHPSS didn’t arrive in my life as a career decision or a planned direction.
It entered naturally with the full-scale war — simply because it was needed.

As I joined important psychosocial projects, I learned what had to be learned to keep this work ethical, meaningful, and effective. I trained, listened, observed, and slowly grew into the MHPSS space through responsibility, not ambition.

Over time, my role naturally shifted toward program design and advocacy — shaping psychosocial projects, staying aligned with global standards, and grounding support in both evidence and humanity.

This experience keeps my work real and connected to what children, caregivers, teachers, and professionals face in Ukraine today.
It’s the quiet backbone of my methods — ensuring they remain trauma-sensitive, practical, and rooted in lived reality.