Read the full transcript of Nacho Ruiz Hens’ talk titled “Living Fully With Bipolar Disorder” at TEDxTAMU 2024 conference.
Listen to the audio version here:
TRANSCRIPT:
Childhood Memories and Superheroes
NACHO RUIZ HENS: Do you believe in Santa? Do you remember when you were a little kid and you were waiting for him to deliver the presents through the chimney? I have always loved superheroes. When I was five years old, I wanted to have a Superman costume, so I wrote a letter to the three wise men, which are like the Spanish version of Santa.
I used to live in a tall building on the eighth floor, and my mom was worried that I would actually believe that I was Superman and I would jump out of the window. So she must have sent a different letter. That day, I woke up in excitement. “The three wise men came, they came!” I announced, running around the house.
My parents and my sister got up, and then I went straight to the living room to find my Superman costume, only to find something else instead. It was the costume of El Zorro. Do you remember that movie from Antonio Banderas? The guy with a black mask and a black cape?
“Whoa, it is so cool,” my parents said, “and look, it comes with a sword.” I began sobbing. I had plenty of toys that Christmas, but not the very thing I wanted. I was so disappointed that, many days later, something magical happened.
There it was, on the bed. I picked it up, yes, I remember the smell of the fabric. I tried it on, and it fit me perfectly. I never took it off.
I even jumped to the swimming pool in summertime, but perhaps, by the way, I had hair back then, but perhaps my mom had grounds to be worried after all, because many years later, I ended up in a psychiatric institution, believing that I had superpowers.
The Onset of Bipolar Disorder
How did I get there? After a decade, I was doing what everybody does, raising three kids, pushing hard behind my desk in my banking job. I was at the top of my game, but eventually, I found myself under financial pressure.
My marriage wasn’t going well, a co-worker was fired, and I tried to deal with everything. I had to deal with the workload of two people, so I did two all-nighters in one week. Have you ever done that? I wasn’t aware of the dangers of sleep deprivation.
My mind was like a Formula One engine operating at too many revolutions per minute, about to explode. Somehow, instead of feeling worried, I felt better than ever. There was this weird sense of connectedness, as if the whole universe was conspiring to make my dreams come true. “I saw the light,” I told my family, and they got worried.
They took me to the hospital. In the emergency room, I tried to convince a nurse that she had the power to change the whole medical system in the United States. And she looked at me like thinking, “Hey, I’m just trying to pay the bills.” That’s what landed me in the hospital the first time.
Ten days later, I left with a diagnosis: bipolar disorder type 1. Up until then, I had no idea about bipolar. It turns out that between 2% and 3% of the adult population is bipolar, and up to 8% might be on the spectrum and diagnosed. Think of all the friends and family members.
How many lives are touched by bipolar? You can see a metaphor with my shoes, which is the extremes, but it’s not only the extremes. There’s a lot of things in between. Being bipolar is alternating between mania, hypomania, and depression.
These episodes can last days, weeks, even years in the case of depression. Mania is like a dangerous euphoria. Hypomania is a mild form of mania. Bipolar comes in different forms.
Some people are bipolar 1, like me, so it’s mania, depression, and everything in between. Others are bipolar 2. They don’t experience manic episodes. There’s people that are cyclothymic, which have moods that are not so extreme.
Others experience mixed episodes, combining symptoms of both mania and depression at the same time. And others go through a roller coaster called rapid cycling, jumping from one extreme to the next throughout the same day. Seventy-five percent of bipolar have anxiety, and there are a myriad of other potential symptoms. PTSD, insomnia, you name it.
It turns out that I have been hypomanic most of my adult life, and perhaps that’s why I was so energetic as a kid. When I left the hospital, the doctor alerted my family that there was a chance that I could develop suicidal thoughts at some point later on. “That’s crazy. Why would I think that?” I thought to myself.
The Depths of Depression
Little did I know how radically my life was about to change. Fast forward three years, I found myself socially isolated, unemployed for the second time, laying on the couch and staring at the ceiling for a whole year. I even got injured in my hip flexor because I was laying sideways too much. Have you ever felt like a failure?
I have. I was a failure in every aspect of my life: health, friends, no job, no good money. I wasn’t a role model as a father. And even later, when I found a job, I was a failure as a husband.
My wife and I were splitting up. My family was broken. Before that happened, those days when I was laying on the couch and staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t help but wonder, why is this happening to me? What have I done to deserve this?
How did I go from being a successful investment banker in New York to this? I became convinced that I would never be able to work again. I am broken. My mind is broken.
There was one day in particular when I was unemployed.
They fired me after two months, the first time I was diagnosed. And I found a job. Instead of feeling excited, the doctor’s prophecy was fulfilled.
All I could think of doing was one thing, taking my own life. I didn’t want to do it. I was scared, but it felt natural, like breathing. Nothing could stop it.
I thought of my loved ones. How would they understand? I woke up crying, and I told my wife—we were still together—I told her, “I am falling into a very deep hole, and no one can help me.” But I was wrong. She set up a call with a therapist, who saved my life. They both did. Every word counted. The therapist told me exactly what I needed to hear at that time.
She even told me, “You are going to become the best version of yourself.” When I was at my worst. That sounded completely unbelievable, but at the same time, I needed to hold on to something. Through the course of the long depression, although she helped me tremendously, the dark thoughts came back, and I was then blessed with a turning point that changed everything.
I had a meeting with a suicide prevention expert who told me, “Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.” Wow. Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. This really stuck with me.
It allowed me to repattern my thoughts until they stopped. I believe this is a skill that can be learned and can save many lives. Somehow, the biggest failure of my life transformed into the biggest catalyst for a positive change. I broke myself out of social isolation and began connecting daily with friends and family in Spain.
Embracing Radical Transparency
Health laws put in place to protect our privacy make us carry the weight of our condition alone like a mask. I didn’t want to share about my symptoms because I felt ashamed, and I didn’t want to have a stamp that read “bipolar” on my forehead. I have now learned that labels are for shampoo, and as you can tell, I do not need shampoo. And I do not need a label either.
None of us do. It’s like when you see a little kid running around with a Superman costume. What do you know about that kid, about his fears, his dreams, his ideas, or his actions? This condition doesn’t define who we are.
Just because our mind breaks doesn’t mean it remains broken. Just because someone has had a manic episode or even a psychotic break doesn’t mean that he or she cannot be stable or reliable. Bipolar is chronic, yes, but it is treatable. We can be functional and even highly functional.
So I embraced the concept of radical transparency. I began sharing my story, talking about my experiences in the psychiatric hospital where I met the most remarkable people. Nobody likes to admit having been in a mental hospital, but it can happen to you or to someone you love. Some experts predict that 50% of the population will have developed at least one mental illness by age 75.
Sharing became my way of normalizing. The more I shared, the more I felt liberated. I was grieving my old self, and acceptance is the final stage of grief. I was accepting my diagnosis, and I had the grounds to start building my new life.
I began exercising, taking walks with my family, and through good sleep, therapy, and medication, I am filled with projects and energy now. Eventually, I reconnected with one of my passions, writing. I began writing about bipolar to heal myself, but also because I wanted to create social awareness and to help others that were struggling to find balance and a deeper purpose. Perhaps bipolar didn’t happen to me, but it happened for me.
The mission of normalizing bipolar has given me new life, because it allows me not only to write, but also to talk to people like you. Because mental illness does not discriminate. It doesn’t make distinctions between races, genders, religions, or socioeconomic status. Mental illness is no different than medical illness, except that it is harder to treat and often invisible.
Fifteen percent of bipolar commit suicide, one-fifth, and up to one-third attempt to end their lives at least once during their lifetime. Sadly, some of the people that commit suicide are the most intelligent and creative among us, and they do it at a very young age. What is the key of finding a cure to cancer or stopping a war in the future? It is in a brilliant bipolar that is on the verge of suicide.
What can we do as a society? I want to propose the concept of radical transparency. I believe this can increase compassion and save lives. By openly sharing our experiences as bipolar people, we raise social awareness and transform our mental health.
We need others to see us for who we truly are and perceive our potential. And no matter who you are or where you are in life, when you feel things will never get better, remember these four words: these too shall pass. These too shall pass. And not everything is negative.
Most bipolar people are ordinary, but some people with mental illness or with mood disorders, many bipolars, have changed the course of history. Think of Isaac Newton, the scientist, Winston Churchill, the World War II leader, advocates for peace like Martin Luther King, Mahatma Gandhi, artists like Virginia Woolf or Van Gogh, entrepreneurs like Ted Turner and possibly even Steve Jobs may arguably be considered in the bipolar spectrum or with a mood disorder. So if you are bipolar and are listening to this, or if you are struggling mentally, remember what they say, it is not adversity, but rather your response to adversity that determines how your life story will develop. So choose to be open, choose to be proud, choose to empower others to share their story by sharing your own.
By being open with others, those who struggle can feel liberated, accept their condition, hold on to their jobs, educate their communities, empower others, and this way lives can be saved. Everyone can be an instrument for change. No matter whether you have bipolar or another mental illness or suspect you do, I really want to encourage you to share your story where it feels safe to do so this upcoming week with radical transparency. Do you view the world as a stage where you are being judged or as a playground where you can learn and play and grow?
And for listeners, I want to encourage you to listen with an open mind, get informed, do not be afraid to ask the hard questions, and be patient. We are doing the best we can. So I have three questions for you, for friends, family members, co-workers, and employers, to ask someone:
How are you doing?
How do you feel about your mental health?
What can I do to support you?
Naomi Osaka, the great tennis player, who took a break in 2021 to protect her mental health, said, “It’s okay to not be okay, and it’s okay to talk about it.” However, my favorite quote is from the author Marianne Williamson, who said, “Our deepest fear is not to be inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.” So in the midst of your battles, find the courage to share your story, and you will find there is, within you, an invincible superhero that might be the very thing someone else needs to open their heart to hope.
