I am Liza, a 19-year-old Kyiv native, and my life's journey is a tapestry woven with threads of adversity and resilience. Growing up was far from ordinary. For the first six years, I lived with both my mom and grandmother, but after that, it was just me and my grandmother. I often say that from age six to twelve, when I was without my mother, I had no childhood. I grew up surrounded by domestic violence, leaving me with lasting traumas that still haunt me today.

My mom contracted HIV through injection drug use. Growing up, I was always taking pills. Until I was 9 years old, I was always told, "You have kidney disease, take these pills morning and night.” Then, my mom decided to tell me the truth. “You have HIV," she said. I asked her what this meant and she explained everything to me. She also told me to not share this information with anyone else. Even at that young age, I took this news calmly and I kept quiet.

The next few years were difficult, but my mom always took care of me and I love her deeply. During this time I was an honor student and I enjoyed studying. In a way, I think school became a refuge from everything that was going on at home. Then, at the age of 12, I began to feel rage. I had witnessed the violence my step-father inflicted on my mom and my grandmother would beat me. To this day, I don’t like it when somebody raises their hand around me and loud noises scare me easily. This is war-related as well, but it mostly comes from my childhood.

I was 15 when my mom died. At the time, I knew she only had a few days, hours, or minutes to live. My grandmother called me to tell me, “That’s it.” Then I knew it was really the end. She was 37. Soon after, I revealed my HIV status by writing a post on Instagram.

I only told my sister in person. We are not biologically related, but we’ve known each other since childhood and she's like a baby sister to me. She was in shock, but I quickly told her, “Everything is fine, we have lived with you all our lives. We hugged, kissed, and everything was normal."

Opening up about my HIV status also brought challenges. In a couple of instances, I’ve faced discrimination and ignorance. I clearly remember how it felt when a man at a grocery store said to me, "She has AIDS, get her things away from me." My sister and I responded by attempting to explain this is not how HIV works. After ten minutes, I realized our attempts were useless because he just didn’t care.

Life took yet another unexpected turn when Russia started the war. The invasion brought unforeseen circumstances, propelling me to seek momentary refuge in Poland. Life as a refugee was challenging, marked by homesickness and arguments with my housemates. I remember realizing that I had to return to Ukraine and saying to myself, “If I die in my country, at least my friends and family will stand at my funeral.”

I faced the uncertainties of war and a challenging environment when returning to my homeland. Fortunately, today I’m living with my boyfriend and we are doing well. Now, I find myself yearning for stability and dream of attending university to pursue my passion for psychology. I also have a great desire to live in a world where we are not stigmatized. My goal is to challenge the taboo surrounding HIV, advocating for better education on sexually transmitted diseases in schools.

Despite the many struggles I’ve faced, I am resilient, free-spirited, and determined to break down barriers and fight for acceptance and understanding.