Tsunami survivor wants to give back, offer mental health support


*Trigger warning: This story deals with suicide and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
Orion remembers everything about the day the tsunami struck Thailand on December 26, 2004. He remembers what he was wearing, what he ate at every meal, and every person he interacted with.
“I saw a lot of people die,” Orion recalls. “And on that day, I saw devils and angels. But sadly, it was mostly devils. Some people were kind and positive. But I’d say most – and by most, I mean the tourists – behaved poorly and selfishly. People were scared. People were raw.”
Orion returned home to Calgary, awash with survivor’s guilt. For two months, friends and family members called or visited. “It was emotionally overpowering. Everyone wanted to tell me something they always meant to say to me. It was like hearing your own eulogy every day,” shares Orion.
Long before, he had learned to suppress his emotions, and soon stopped talking about his experiences. “I was always known as the calm one in my family,” he says. “I never freaked out. I never got angry.” He developed a severe sleeping disorder and couldn’t get more than four to five hours of sleep a night.
Two years later, in 2006, he started to contemplate suicide. “Counselling back then was almost non-existent. I was a successful businessman and thought I could power through,” he shares. “I don’t recall being depressed or anxious. But I was just so exhausted and couldn’t figure a way out.”
Learn more about Orion's mental health journey
A search for fresh starts and solutions
Hoping a change of scenery would help him, Orion moved to Kelowna in 2006. He had founded a rapidly growing pharmacy chain in 2002 with partners in the Okanagan and thought moving would help.
He immersed himself in his work. “The great thing about sleeping only four hours a night is I could work a lot,” jokes Orion. That he might have post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) hadn’t yet entered his mind.
In 2007, Orion’s life took another turn when he exited the pharmacy chain, which by then had grown to more than 550 people across western Canada. He travelled to Asia and connected with a friend who survived the tsunami alongside him. After some time travelling around Asia, he settled down in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. Orion – a name he chose in Vietnam when the locals couldn’t pronounce his given name – became a Buddhist.
While living in Ho Chi Minh City, he befriended a psychiatrist from the United States. She recognized his PTSD symptoms, and in not so delicate terms, told him “You’re f’ed.”
After returning to Canada in 2008, Orion married, bought a new home and settled in Kelowna. He joined a large multinational company, and once again dove into work. He tried to keep his life uncomplicated and simple—“vanilla” as he describes it. He obsessed about getting enough sleep and maintaining a Buddhist-like life balance.
But, like a patient cougar silently stalking her prey, Orion’s PTSD crouched just beneath the surface.
“I went down fast”
As he rose up through his company, Orion found himself on the road more and more. After the pandemic, he travelled internationally, upwards of 150 days a year. His marriage suffered, and he and his wife separated. “My world had shrunk by then – and my wife was my world,” he shares.
When he and his wife were going through their separation, he had been taking prescription sleeping pills daily for more than six weeks. Unknown to him at the time, one of the long-term side effects of the medication was anxiety.
After he and his wife separated, Orion says he could barely function. He tried to take his life in April 2023 and woke up in Kelowna General Hospital.
For the next few months, Orion cycled through therapists and medications. He moved in with his parents. “There wasn’t a day I didn’t think about killing myself,” he says. “I was diagnosed with prostate cancer in 2020, and prayed the disease would take me.”
By the time his sister visited the family in August 2023, he had been begging his family to give him all his pills in hopes of ending his life. His family called the police, and Orion was brought to the fifth floor of KGH, the psychiatric unit.
“It was the lowest point of my life,” he remembers. “But when you’ve hit bottom, and it can’t get worse, it’s oddly liberating.”
Discovering a sense of purpose
In the hospital, he was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder (GAD), a persistent, long-term and debilitating condition. The psychiatrist at KGH changed his medication, and he was taken off sleeping pills.
Orion began to uncover a renewed sense of purpose.
“I discovered I really enjoyed talking to my fellow patients and hearing their stories,” he smiles. “I liked the camaraderie. Many of these people didn’t have the supports or the financial means I have, or access to a therapist. That’s how I got the idea of helping others when I got better.”

Going “kitchen sink” on his mental health
When Orion was discharged, he eventually got his life back together. He reached out to his estranged wife, his friends and colleagues. He found an “amazing” therapist, and his family doctor prescribed medication that worked for him.
He also “went kitchen sink” on his mental health: exercising twice a day, visiting his Buddhist temple regularly, doing yoga, meditating, self-care, journalling, volunteering and getting into nature. He cut back on his work and changed roles to focus on strategy and mentorship. “I cry when I need to cry, and don’t bury stuff,” he adds. In February 2024, he was fully recovered, with not a negative thought in his head.

“You’re never ‘cured’ of PTSD,” says Orion. “You learn to live with it, you learn to accept it. I have such a high threshold and resilience for challenges and difficulties, but my nervous system broke down. I don’t want to sound egotistical, but if it can happen to me, it can happen to anyone.”
Sharing his life experiences and lessons

“I consider myself fortunate to have had this experience—but wouldn’t wish this on anyone,” he reflects. “If I could change anything, I wished someone had shaken me years ago and told me to process my emotions and to stop suppressing them.”
For those supporting loved ones with their mental health, Orion says this. “You can’t take their actions personally—they have nothing to do with you. But try to show you are there for them. They may not respond to your texts right away, but they might eventually.”
He also advises people to take care of themselves. “It’s easier to prevent than to try and adopt new habits when you are really low,” he counsels.
Orion often speaks to strangers, something he had not done for a long time. What he’s discovered is the more transparent, open and vulnerable he is, the more others open up to him. “Ninety per cent of people I talk to have had a notable mental health challenge in their lives,” says Orion.
Orion chokes back tears. “I’m the first to admit I’m privileged. I’m grateful and own that,” he says. “If I don’t take my position and use it for positive change, then what type of human being am I?
Orion is continually looking for opportunities to share his experiences with others who may benefit from someone who has survived a severe mental health issue.
“If you make one small change, if you do just one per cent more, you’ll set yourself on a trajectory of massive change.”
Orion is a member of the Interior Health Peer Advisory Group. The group is made up of people from across our region with lived and living experiences with mental health and/or substance use. In his role, he participates in panels about mental health and hopes to support others on their mental health journeys.
Explore these mental health resources
- Movember – Movember started in 2003 in Australia to bring awareness to prostate cancer. Today, Movember supports men’s mental health and suicide prevention, as well as prostate and testicular cancer.
- HeadsUpGuys – A program of the University of British Columbia, HeadsUpGuys provides research-backed men’s mental health resources.
- Men's Mental Health – Canadian Mental Health Association
Get help today
Call 310-MHSU (6478) to reach your local Mental Health and Substance Use Centre for support in your community.
If you’re experiencing feelings of hopelessness or thoughts of self-harm, you can call one of these numbers. These services are available 24 hours a day, seven days a week, including holidays:
- Interior Crisis Line Network- 1-888-353-2273
- Suicide Crisis Helpline- 988
- KUU-US (Indigenous) Crisis Line- 1-800-588-8717
- Métis Crisis Line- 1-833-638-4722
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