Vincent Mokaya has noticed a pattern in his years of practice. Women walk through the door. Men don't. At least not until it's too late.
"I think men have been socialized in a way that seeking help makes you weak or incompetent," he says. "People will see you differently if you ask for help. But being able to be strong out there, showing up until you die? They see you as a great man, an inspiration."
He's seen it across professions. Engineers, doctors, people who should know better. They still don't find the essence of seeking help until situations spiral out of control. Until they find themselves alone with their families, facing bipolar disorder, depression, or addiction, and realizing they wish they'd reached out sooner.
For Vincent, changing this isn't just professional. It's personal.
From Bullied to Builder
Vincent grew up in a dysfunctional family where basic needs were a struggle. When his parents moved to town, he found himself bullied relentlessly as a young man. He had a countryside accent, a different way of moving through the world. Other kids picked on him for it. He had no one to tell. Not at home. Not at school. Not among friends, because he didn't have any.
By the time he reached Class 7, the bullying had eased, but the questions hadn't. He kept wondering: is there something that can be done when people are stuck like this? Can they be helped?
That's when psychology started making sense to him. Not as some calling, but as a practical answer to a real problem he'd lived through.
When it came time to pick university courses, he had three slots. He wrote psychology in all three.
He studied at Egerton, and less than a month after graduating, he had his first job. A rehabilitation center opening a new facility needed a psychologist. They called him that evening and told him to start immediately.
What Somalia Taught Him
After two years at his first job, Vincent was restless. He'd been running a rehab center's psychology program, but he wanted to see what else was out there. What mental health looked like in other hands, other contexts.
So when a psychiatric hospital near the Somalia border needed someone, he went.
That's where his clinical understanding deepened. He'd studied depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia in textbooks. But working with patients experiencing them in real time was something else entirely. Watching people move through treatment, setbacks, recovery. Managing both inpatient and outpatient care.
The work came with challenges he hadn't anticipated. Most patients didn't speak his language. The cultural frameworks were completely different from what he knew. He had to figure out how to connect without relying on words, how to read what people weren't saying, how to bridge gaps he'd never encountered before.
It stretched him and shaped how he works today.
Why Men Don't Show Up
Vincent has spent a lot of time thinking about why men resist therapy. Part of it is cultural. Men have been socialized to believe that seeking help makes you weak, that people will see you differently if you admit you're struggling. Part of it is fear of discrimination and stigma. Part of it is a genuine lack of knowledge about what mental health even means.
By the time most men walk through his door, they're in crisis. The marriage is falling apart. The drinking has gotten out of hand. The depression has made it impossible to function. They waited until there was no other choice.
Vincent believes the solution starts early. Mental health should be incorporated at the simplest levels of life, at the family level, while children are young. While parents are doing discipline, toilet training, basic care. If mental health becomes as routine as brushing your teeth, as basic as daily living, the next generation won't carry the same resistance.
"We need to be ambassadors at the simplest levels of our lives," he says. "Not waiting for the government, for professionals, for donors. We need to do it ourselves."
It's not a policy problem, he argues. It's a cultural shift that has to happen at home, in everyday conversations, in how fathers talk to their sons about emotions and struggle. That's where change begins.
The Cook Who Happens to Be a Therapist
Outside of therapy, Vincent loves cooking. Pilau is his specialty, though he's been experimenting with other dishes. When he's having a terrible day, the thing that brings him back is a well-cooked meal, and he's the only one who can make it exactly the way he wants it.
He loves nature. Spending time outdoors keeps him grounded. He also values alone time, calling himself into meetings to scan his body, check his thoughts, and understand what's happening in his immediate environment.
He watches medical dramas, crime and investigative shows, and Marvel sci-fi films. He's exploring drawing. And he loves animation, particularly the kind that mimics human elements rather than traditional cartoons.
What might surprise you about Vincent? People often misunderstand him. He comes across as serious and intense, focused and driven. And he is those things. But he's also more laid back than people assume
Vincent specializes in addiction therapy, trauma-informed care, and psychiatry. He works with individuals navigating substance use, mental health conditions, and is currently pursuing Marriage and Family Therapy. He's open to both in-person and online sessions. You can find his profile here to learn more and reach out.
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