Profile

Relationship to MLM: former highest-rank distributor (peak annual income over 10 million yen, downline of up to 2,000 people)
Now: runs the blog "MLM is a Fairy Tale" (マルチ商法は夢物語)

Ten-plus years in MLM

I joined right after my then-husband had changed jobs and money was tight, and I couldn't work outside the home because our children were small — a genuinely poor period in our lives. When a friend messaged me saying "I have something I'd like to tell you about," I half-suspected it was an MLM pitch, but thought I'd at least listen. That was the beginning of my life in MLM.

An extraordinary world

The scenery at the tea parties and seminars was dazzling. Living frugally while raising children, I found it deeply appealing. An ordinary-looking housewife you might see anywhere would show up next time wearing trendy clothes, eyes shining as she talked about "taking the family abroad" or "buying a luxury bag." Surrounded by people carrying luxury handbags, wearing sharp suits, showing off photos from parties in long gowns — people I'd never encounter in ordinary life — I began to dream that maybe I too could become like that.

What captivated me most was a woman younger than me who had reached the top rank, earning what she called a "million yen a month." "Even if I spend a million this month, another million comes in next month too!" Bright, beautiful, well-spoken, driving a luxury import car, everything she owned a designer brand — she quickly drew exhausted housewives into this dream world. Hearing this, I wanted to escape my own difficult life too, and threw myself into the business. That woman, incidentally, quit the business three or four years later. I never learned why.

The days when everything felt fun

Everything about the business was new, and for someone living an ordinary, uneventful life, it felt thrilling. Attending self-improvement seminars, I felt like I'd become a person of character, that we were somehow special people. When someone I'd recruited became "part of the team" and thanked me — "thank you for telling me about this" — walking briskly in my pumps, I felt like a real businesswoman. Recruiting and attending seminars from morning to evening, home briefly to do housework, then meetings again at night. Even though the pay never matched the hours, simply having the feeling of "doing business" was enough to satisfy me. "You're working so hard," "You're amazing," "You can definitely succeed" — I was under their spell. During this period I never doubted anything, no matter how much people around me criticized it.

Family collapse was only a matter of time

But the business I'd started to make my life a success was, in fact, wrecking my household. Out from morning to night, housework got neglected, and our already-strained finances went further into the red from activity expenses. My then-husband never opposed my doing MLM, simply staying indifferent — "do as you like." Desperate to fix our finances, I pushed to rank up recklessly and took on a 500,000-yen loan.

Even as things fell apart at home, the MLM world kept telling me "You're amazing," "As expected of you" — it became an escape, and I began averting my eyes from our real family problems. My then-husband and I divorced three years after I started the business. Afterward, feeling I had to earn even more, I threw myself deeper into the business, covering my ears to anything inconvenient and only listening to what suited me. Within the MLM world I became known as "the amazing single mother making it work."

The view from the top is hell

Genuinely believing I had to convey the truth for my family and the people I cared about, and seriously determined to change my life through this business, I eventually built a downline of over 2,000 people, earning more than 10 million yen a year. Once achieving the top rank and consistently placing highly in national award ceremonies became routine, I had some breathing room — and that's when reality started to become visible.

My upline, who never said anything but positive things in front of members, complained and badmouthed people constantly when only leaders were present. "Just praise the members and they'll keep working," "Just tell them 'wow, amazing' and they'll try harder" — the things being said were shocking. Even among the top leaders it was an environment of backstabbing, everyone calculating whose side to be on to survive.

The "top rank" title had to be maintained regardless of actual income — you had to be someone people looked up to. That meant constant pressure to maintain an expensive lifestyle: car, belongings (clothes, shoes, bags, watches), everything upscale. There was no option but "YES" to whatever your superiors said; voicing an opinion got you labeled difficult and effectively excluded from seminars. It was social ostracism in all but name. Being ostracized would then hurt your group's activity, so there was no way to push back — you simply complied, however unreasonable it felt.

Children's school events, family circumstances — none of it took priority. "You're at the top rank, what are you talking about?" would end the conversation. Being close to an influential leader made things bearable; the moment you drew any negative attention, your standing collapsed. Trusting fellow members carelessly meant getting your legs pulled out from under you, so leaders constantly watched each other's expressions. If something went wrong, nobody helped — even your own upline would look the other way. What exactly about these people was a "lifelong community"? Since leaving MLM, not one of the people I once thought were comrades — who I believed we supported and encouraged each other through everything — has ever reached out to me.

Not even top-rank members were actually earning

The company I belonged to had comparatively lenient conditions for maintaining rank compared to others. And yet, almost without exception, top leaders who left after some trouble turned out to have significant debts. If top rank supposedly earns over a million yen a month — why? Partly the inability to give up appearances or a luxurious lifestyle, but also, I think, because believing yourself "successful" (wealthy) numbs your sense of money.

Don't assume every top-rank person earns a million a month. The publicly cited average income only applies in the ideal case where you've built the perfect organization — and building that ideal organization almost never actually happens. Most people force their way to rank-up and then watch their income collapse afterward, ending up as "top rank" members earning less than 200,000 yen a month. "Top rank" in name only, while still marketed as "this rank earns a million yen a month." If even the top rank isn't earning, I honestly don't understand how the people below them are supposed to.

Why I decided to quit

There were many triggers for wanting to quit, but if I had to put it in one word: exhaustion.

  • Struggling with wanting to quit
  • Suppressing that desire and putting on a good face for members
  • Starting to realize the information in MLM was false
  • Having no one in the MLM world I could actually trust
  • Despairing at the thought of being bound to this world forever
  • Never having freedom over my own time
  • Everything depending on whoever was above me

I had utterly exhausted myself living a life at odds with my true feelings.

  • I couldn't let go of the results (income) I'd built up
  • Was I going to abandon members trying so hard?
  • I felt I owed something to the people who'd helped me rank up
  • I couldn't betray members I'd grown close to
  • Everything I'd proudly said before would become a lie
  • I might be blamed as irresponsible
  • What happens after I quit?
  • What will everyone say about me?
  • I told everyone this was such an amazing business...
  • I didn't even know what I truly wanted
  • I was afraid to quit

All these anxieties and conflicts swirled in my head and I couldn't quit. This painful daily struggle lasted a full year. But I couldn't keep lying to myself, and I told the company I was leaving. Now that I can live honestly according to my own feelings — with my time, money, and thinking all my own again — I truly believe, from the bottom of my heart, that quitting was the right choice.

Right after quitting

I thought I'd feel refreshed after quitting, but instead I was overwhelmed by regret and guilt and couldn't even leave the house. Having built up so much in terms of years, member numbers, and income, the crash was severe, and the guilt felt crushing. Why hadn't I noticed sooner? Why did I believe it? I'd been so thrilled to be told I was amazing — I was such a fool — I blamed myself every single day. The pain of "I am the perpetrator here," "I did something unforgivable," never let up.

I confronted my own foolishness and apologized to my children for the loneliness, the hard times, and the false information I'd passed on to them. When my children said, "Thank you for spending so much time, effort, and money for us. But we're glad you quit" — I cried with a mix of guilt and gratitude I couldn't hold back. My current husband supported me too, without saying a word. What was it I had wanted to become, back then? I now realize the happiness I truly wanted to find doesn't require becoming someone impressive — it was right here all along.

Now

As my MLM way of thinking gradually faded and I started finding myself again, I began writing publicly about MLM. I wanted even one more person to know the dangers and the hidden side of MLM, and to help stop people from suffering because of it. For people like me who want to quit but keep telling themselves "the products are good" or "I enjoy being with these people" to avoid facing it — I want them to find the courage to quit and reclaim their own life. But honestly, the biggest reason may be my own attempt to atone for what I did.

It was through answering a survey on Raio's note blog, run by the MLM Victims Support Association, that I learned about his work to eliminate MLM harm. As someone who had been, in a sense, a perpetrator, I hesitated to get involved — but decided that if my inside knowledge of MLM could help reduce harm, I should join.

What I've come to feel through this work is that "MLM doesn't only ruin the life of the member themselves." The anguished voices of family members watching a loved one get pulled into MLM cut straight through me. I still feel weighed down by my own sense of guilt at times, but no amount of regret changes the past — so I want to keep working to reduce the number of victims, even by one.

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