I Sit with Forgotten Men
When I was training as an addiction counsellor, I was often told by other professionals, “That’s a hard road. Are you sure you want to go down it?”
And yes, it is hard. I have seen men turn their lives around, only to end up in prison despite their efforts. I have seen systems fail them, society judge them, and opportunities slip away. Yet it is in that very difficulty that the work matters most.
This poem captures what I witness every day:
I sit with forgotten men
I sit and hold the hands of men
Not saints, not villains, just human again
The ones tossed out like broken tools
Discarded by polite, clean rules
I hold the weight the world will not see
The trauma wrapped in secrecy
The pain that does not wear a name
The histories soaked deep in shame
They say, “Why help them? What is the gain?
Aren’t you tired of all that pain?”
But they do not see the sacred ground
Where sobs are swallowed and truths are unbound
I rage against the system's game
That dresses justice up in shame
The courtroom speaks in cold decree
But I see men fight to break free
They label, lock, and throw away
The very men who chose to stay
To face the mirror, bare and raw
And climb up through the jagged flaw
Redemption lives in every scar
In trembling hands and prison bars
I have seen the moment something shifts
When self-respect begins to lift
You think they lie? Sometimes they do
But lies are masks for bleeding truth
You think they are dangerous? So be it
But I have seen courage you just do not see
These men have fought the hardest wars
Not ones with guns, but inner doors
They have faced their pasts with shaking breath
And dragged themselves back up from death
And still the world says, “Not enough”
Still we punish. Still we bluff
As if remorse cannot spark rebirth
As if some souls have lost their worth
So no, I will not look away in fear
I will sit beside them. I will be here
Not as saviour, not my role
But as witness to a rising soul
I will sit in rooms where silence screams
Where men rebuild their broken dreams
Where hands once clenched in rage and shame
Now reach for something with a name
Hope
Self-worth
A second chance
A life that is not circumstance
I do not do this for praise or pay
I do it because I cannot look away
Because I know what it is to fall
And how it feels when no one calls
So call me soft or call me mad
But I will keep showing up like that
Because I have seen what others miss
The power in the fracturedness
I sit with men the world condemns
And I refuse to forget them
Addiction counselling is a road that asks for stamina, compassion, and courage. It asks you to sit with the complexity of human lives, the victories, the setbacks, and the often unseen progress. My role is not to save, but to witness. Not to control outcomes, but to hold space for possibility, healing, and self-discovery.
Even when the system punishes, even when the world seems indifferent, the simple act of being seen matters. Those moments of recognition, of someone truly witnessing a person’s struggle and growth, can be transformative.
If you are reading this as a client, colleague, or someone curious about this path, know this: the work is hard, but the human connection you cultivate can be a lifeline. The people you sit with, their resilience, courage, and capacity for change, will stay with you long after the session ends.
