Here is the full transcript of mental health advocate Andy Dunn’s talk titled “Lessons From Losing My Mind” at TED 2023 conference.
Listen to the audio version here:
TRANSCRIPT:
The Messiah for a Week
When I was 20, I was the messiah. For about a week. And for those of you who haven’t had the privilege of being the messiah, I have to tell you something. It is awesome.
Imagine, you are the person that’s going to save the world, bring peace on Earth, and no one knows it yet but you. I arrived as the second coming my senior year of college. New Year’s Eve, 1999.
After a night of partying, I came to a stunning conclusion. I was Jesus 2.0. For the next 100 hours, I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, but I did spend a fair amount of time preaching my gospel at the Burger King in Evanston.
Turns out, though — and this may be a disappointment to my supporters — that I was in fact not the messiah. I was just a 20-year-old Midwestern kid having a manic episode later diagnosed as a symptom of bipolar disorder type I. And it was very much not awesome for my family and my friends.
Symptoms of a Manic Episode
And so what exactly is a manic episode? Typical symptoms include a lack of sleep, grandiosity, relentless optimism, high-risk behaviors, racing speech, and ideas that are seen as delusional. Does that remind you of anyone?
Because it sounds to me like an entrepreneur having a good day. And in fact, it is estimated that three percent of all of us have bipolar. A staggering number in its own right. For entrepreneurs, that number is 11 percent. And at the intersection … Hi, mom, that’s me. The best of both worlds.
And it’s not just bipolar. According to a study from the University of California at San Francisco, entrepreneurs also over-index in ADHD, in depression and in substance use. And maybe this correlation between neurodiversity and innovation shouldn’t surprise us.
The Entrepreneur’s Vision
After all, to be an entrepreneur is to conjure things that aren’t real yet. That sort of invention, that sort of vision requires more than a little bit of magical thinking. A vision that might seem fantastical to others at first is later deemed to be obvious, like, say, flying through the air in a huge metallic capsule at 30,000 feet and 575 miles an hour.
For me, that vision — get ready for it — was pants. It’s always been pants. OK, well, not exactly. My vision was one for a world where brands would be built internet-first. And so in 2007, I cofounded a menswear e-commerce company called Bonobos.
Now I know what you might be thinking. Selling pants online is not that remarkable of a vision. But in 2007, it was improbable.
Building an Internet-First Brand
Think about it. Amazon was barely focused on fashion, Apple had only just launched the iPhone. Mobile commerce and the App Store were just a twinkle in the eye.
Facebook didn’t have an ad platform. That’s, by the way, where you acquire customers for a digital brand. And essential tools for digital storytelling, like Instagram and TikTok, didn’t even exist.
Instagram was three years away from being created, and TikTok was nine years away. Maybe that was a good thing at the time. Every venture capitalist we pitched said the same thing: “You guys are crazy.”
Which is an interesting word choice, if you think about it in this context. Against these odds, over the next decade we went on to raise 100 million in venture capital, to sell over a million pairs of pants, to invent an inventory-free retail store and open 60 of those, creating ultimately over 500 jobs. The company was acquired a decade after founding by the world’s largest retailer by revenues, itself in its own process of digital transformation, for over 300 million.
The Dark Side of Success
Building any brand now in internet-first is commonplace. It’s table stakes. It’s obvious. Maybe it wasn’t so crazy after all. But there was a dark side to this success. Friends and mentors and other business leaders warned me that the entrepreneurial journey was filled with dramatic mood swings, highs and lows.
They even call startups what? A roller coaster. And so my bipolar disorder was cloaked, not as symptoms of an illness or a condition, but symptoms of a job.
I cycled through a couple of mood states. Dizzyingly productive periods of hypomania, a misunderstood [mood] state that is a diluted form of mania without the telltale psychosis that leads to a diagnosis of bipolar I, but all of the increased energy and creativity and ideation and joie de vivre and burning the candle at both ends. You can get a lot done when you’re hypomanic.
Depression and Mania
Alternating with devastating periods of depression. For me, both mild and severe, often 50 or 100 days at a time, catatonic, can’t get out of bed, disappearing on the team, unable to go to work. Sometimes undesiraous of living.
And all of it was amplified by what was happening at work. A gutting co-founder divorce, a rotating door of executive turnover, maddening and expensive flights into shiny new objects and distracting ideas, often driven by hypomania, and a whopping cash flow burn rate that at times reached five million dollars a month. It’s hard to do, actually, but but we did it.
And all of it boiled over in 2016. I was leading a team of 400 people when the mania that I hadn’t experienced since I was preaching the gospel at Burger King when I was 20 came raging back. In a manic episode at my New York apartment, I rose from my bed, literally howling at the moon, convinced I was the president and Batman, which is actually a high-potential combination, if you think about it.
And then the darkness really set in. I smashed my fist into a glass window pane. And worst of all, I struck my now-wife, Manuela, and pushed and kicked her mother, Leni, to the ground as they tried to protect me, to prevent me from running naked into the streets of Greenwich Village.
Unconditional Love and Accountability
When I saw … When I saw Leni two weeks later, I thought it would be for the last time.