Speak truthfully about losing a loved one to suicide | Mari Okazaki | TEDxChilliwack

To bring more awareness for the need in supporting people who are grieving with suicide loss, Mari Okazaki talks about how her mother’s death by suicide impacted her life, and how she now hopes to help reduce the stigma surrounding death by suicide.

Originally from Japan and currently residing in Chilliwack with three children and her husband, Mari Okazaki is a full-time Reiki practitioner/teacher. She is an active volunteer for Chilliwack Hospice Society as part of a Relaxation program, and as a co-facilitator for a suicide bereavement group.

This talk was given at a TEDx event using the TED conference format but independently organized by a local community. Learn more at http://ted.com/tedx

Have you ever lost
someone you really loved?

Grieving is one of the most difficult
emotions that many people experience.

But, think about how complex
it becomes when suicide is involved.

According to Statistics Canada,

the death rate by suicide
in British Columbia

is roughly 500 per year,

which is more than motor vehicle
accidents, at 315.

Yet, we hear about motor vehicle
accidents quite often,

but we don't hear about suicide,

even though the death rate
is nearly 40% higher.

Why do you think this is?

There is a long history
of stigmatizing people

who are involved in any way with suicide.

People who died by suicide,

people who attempted suicide
and survived the attempt,

and people who lost
their loved ones by suicide.

Misunderstanding and ignorance
are the root of the stigma,

and bring unbelievable suffering
on suicide survivors, and bereaved ones.

Today, I would like to share
my very personal story,

how suicide loss impacted my life,
and how I got through.

And hopefully, this can help
to reduce the stigma around suicide.

Both of my parents passed away young.

My father, by a medical accident
at the age of 39, when I was 4.

His doctor simply made a mistake
on his medication for fever,

and within 10 days,
his healthy and strong body

declined to the point of death.

My mother became a young widow
with three little girls,

and she raised us on her own.

Despite the difficulties,

she was always joyful,
energetic and uplifting,

until she developed a bipolar disorder.

In the winter, when I was 25,
my ordinary morning became extraordinary.

My life turned upside down,

because my beloved mother
took her own life.

A few days prior,
her depression was so bad

that she couldn't even get off the couch.

But the day before,

she was feeling well enough
to go on a short trip by train with me.

After we came back from the trip,

she was feeling so well that she made
a phone call to her friends, telling them,

"My depression finally lifted.

I'm so happy that I'm coming
to the meeting tomorrow. See you then!"

She looked really happy.

But how would I know
if she was feeling well,

or was it just another bipolar routine?

The very next day, when I woke up
on the fateful morning,

I felt like I needed to check my mom.

So I went to her room,
and the bed was empty.

So from there, I looked down the hallway,
and the kitchen light was on.

I didn't see her, but I thought,
"Good, she's up and cooking breakfast."

I turned around, took a shower
and practiced the piano for 20 minutes,

which was my morning routine.

I finished practicing piano
and came back out from the room,

and then I saw her standing
at the end the hallway.

So I said, "Good morning!"

But she didn't respond, so I thought,
"Maybe she's making a phone call."

But, as I took a few steps closer,
that's when I realized

there was this much space
between her feet and the floor.

And then I gasped,
and my time stopped for a moment.

But the first thing I thought was,

"My sister with Down's syndrome
must not see this."

Fortunately, she was still sleeping,

but I knew right away
this could create serious damage on her.

So I was like, "I got to take her down."

I quietly looked for scissors,

and as I cut the cord
we both fell on the floor.

Then I shook her body
and tried to wake her,

and then screaming that voice,
my sister woke up.

I can still remember
her sleepy and terrified eyes.

I made a phone call to the ambulance,

then I tried CPR,
and phoned again, telling them,

"You got to hurry!
She's not breathing, hurry!"

Finally, the ambulance came
and took all of us to the hospital.

At the hospital, the doctor told me
that she didn't make it.

I was like...

"No! She was well last night,

she was going to go
to a meeting this morning;

and now she's gone."

I was very confused.

I made a phone call
to my relatives who lived close by,

and I phoned another sister who had
to take an airplane to get to me.

The very same morning,
before announcing to anyone else,

we agreed to hide the truth.

If anyone asked us what had happened,

we decided to say
that it was a massive heart attack

and that I found her
on the floor in the morning.

We made up a story
that was far from the truth.

Why did we do it?

It was because of the stigma
that was wrapped around suicide.

Perhaps it was the best decision
we could have made,

because it did protect me

from the negative judgment
in a small community.

But it did leave me long years
of pain trapped inside of me.

Probably not just me, but my sister,
uncles and aunties all suffered;

but we never shared,
because we decided not to talk about it.

For ten years, I didn't speak about it.

But, in the meanwhile,
I suffered with PTSD,

which is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

The flashbacks, nightmares,
sleepless nights, and anxieties,

and I continued
to blame myself and felt guilty.

What if I had studied about depression?

What if I had known something
about bipolar disorder?

What if I had supported her more?

Or, she might not have died
if I hadn't practiced piano that morning.

All kinds of "what ifs."

I didn't know how to deal with it,

and how could I ask for a help
without talking about it?

The only comfort that I had

was the fact that my mother was listening
to my piano in those moments.

Eventually, PTSD became
a normal thing to me,

even though my life was very happy

with a loving husband
and three beautiful children.

But one day, for the
first time in ten years,

I decided to speak the truth
with my good friend, Chiho.

As I spoke,

my voice and body were shaking
to the degree that I'd never experienced.

It was so obvious, that Chiho said,
"You don't have to speak about it."

But I said, "If it's OK for you,
may I continue?"

As I spoke, it was like my time
flew back to 10 years ago.

What I saw, what I heard,

what I smelled, what I felt,
what I thought was all

as if I was standing in that morning,
that horrendous morning.

But, after I spoke everything,
I felt so much lighter.

That time was the first time
that I finally realized

this is what I needed to do.

So, I started to speak
about it here and there,

whenever I had a comfortable situation.

As I shared my experience,

there were positive
and negative reactions from people.

Most of the people
didn't know what to say,

but they thanked me for sharing.

But some people told me that, basically,
my mother would never be in heaven,

because she took her own life.

Years went by, I decided to join
the Chilliwack Hospice Society.

My intention was to offer Reiki sessions,

which is a Japanese method
of energy healing technique

for palliative care patients
and their families.

But through that involvement,

I found out about this
new bereavement group

that was specific to suicide loss.

By this time, it's been 16 years
since my mother passed away,

and I was no longer suffering from PTSD.

I was sure I was over with my grieving.

So I decided to join this group
as a volunteer co-facilitator.

I was so keen on helping others,
but at the same time

this was my very first bereavement group
that I'd joined in my life.

There are people who lost their parents,

partners, children, siblings,
friends, all by suicide;

and there are even people
who found their loved one's dead body,

just like I did.

I was very surprised to see
that so many people shared my experience,

and for the first time
I felt like I'm not alone.

There are people
who actually understand my pain.

But remember I said
I was over with my grieving?

Through this group,
I found out that I was wrong.

Through this group,
I regressed back 16 years,

and then PTSD came back.

By this time, not only grieving,
guilt and shame,

but a new kind of shame
was creating from inside.

It was like, "It's been 16 years,
you shouldn't be grieving about your mom.

It's in the past, you get over it!

You're supposed to be helping people,
you can't cry in front of the people,

it's discouraging."

It was even more complex.

My grieving process became this long,

because I didn't allow myself to have
a healthy grieving stage at the beginning.

So, I decided to face
my emotion with honesty.

And do you know what happened?
My nightmares changed to good dreams.

I used to have a really bad dream
that my mom would show up in a dream

and stood there,
her eyes would be filled with guilt.

And then she would turn around
without saying anything.

I would try to chase after her,
never being able to catch her.

Then I ended up waking up
in the middle of the night, crying.

But, that changed.

For example, my mom will come
and visit me from Japan, to Canada,

and I'll take her on a tour in Vancouver.

We'll sit in Stanley Park,
and take a selfie photo.

(Laughter)

And then I will say,

"Look! This is a good one.
I'm going to put it on Facebook, OK?"

And I would be on iPhone,
and I would type,

"Mother and daughter reunite.
Dot dot smile,"

just like the way that I would spend
my time with her, if she were still here.

Facing the emotion with honesty,
this did it for me.

Now, in closing,

I would like to speak to those people
who have never been affected by suicide,

and also for those who have.

First, people who are unfamiliar
with suicide loss.

Suicide is not recognized
as much as the other types of deaths.

As a result, it is often hidden.

Please know that we as suicide grievers

suffer with grieving
as much as those people

who lost loved ones by illness,
accidents, tragic deaths, old age.

But we also suffer
with a complex set of emotions.

It's hard enough to lose a loved one,
and feeling sadness, emptiness, shock;

but here comes heavy guilt,
shame, blame, trauma,

and topped with stigma
and taboo to deal with.

Please do not brand suicide as selfish.

With my understanding,
depression is like a cancer in the heart.

Many people can survive,

but unfortunately,
some people cannot survive.

But that doesn't mean
that they were selfish.

They didn't want to end their lives,

but they were in so much pain
that they just wanted to end their pain.

And now, those people
who are affected by suicide.

Speaking helps.

It might take you three years,
10 years, or 20 years

until you are able
to speak about your experience.

But please know that speaking
can be one of the powerful tools

to advance your grieving
from unbearable to bearable.

Once you are able to speak
about your experience without crying,

then you know your heart is mending.

And let's talk about their lives,
not just their death.

So then you know
that they were so filled with life.

I just know that there will
be a time for you

when sadness turns into strength;

grieving and guilt
will turn into gratitude.

Anger and disappointment
will be in the past,

and replaced by peace.

May all of us have strength
to face difficulties and speak about them,

so then we can empower
ourselves, others, and them.

(Applause)