I remember the day we sold RemoteTeam to Gusto. The headlines were glowing. “Serial Entrepreneur Sahin Boydas Does It Again.” My inbox was a flood of congratulations. My face was plastered on tech blogs. From the outside, I was living the Silicon Valley dream. Two successful exits. Over 200 angel investments in companies that are now household names, like Anthropic and OpenAI. I wrote a book, for crying out loud. I was the guy who had it all figured out.
But here’s the thing about a highlight reel: it’s just the highlights. It doesn’t show you the nights I spent staring at the ceiling, my mind racing with a toxic cocktail of fear and self-doubt. It doesn’t show the crushing weight of responsibility, the constant pressure to be “on,” to be the visionary, the leader, the rock for everyone else. It doesn’t show you the darkness that can creep in when you’re so focused on building something that you forget to build yourself.
Let’s be real for a second. Founder depression is not a myth. It’s not a sign of weakness. It’s a very real, very dangerous occupational hazard. We talk about burn and churn, about hustle culture, about the 24/7 grind. We wear it as a badge of honor. But we don’t talk about the cost. We don’t talk about the fact that the same obsessive drive that fuels our success can also be the thing that drives us into the ground.
The First Crack in the Armor
My first real taste of this was after we sold MovieLaLa to Gfycat. The acquisition was a huge win, a validation of years of hard work. I should have been ecstatic. And I was, for a while. But then, a strange emptiness started to set in. I had been so defined by the struggle, by the fight, that I didn’t know who I was without it. The adrenaline was gone, and in its place was a quiet, gnawing void.
I threw myself into angel investing, thinking that would fill the gap. And it did, in a way. I got to be a part of some incredible journeys. I’m immensely proud of the companies I’ve backed, like Scale AI and Hugging Face. But it was also a way to avoid dealing with my own issues. I was a spectator, not a player. And the old demons started to creep back in.
I started RemoteTeam with a renewed sense of purpose. We were building something important, something that would change the way people work. The company grew fast. We were hiring, shipping product, closing deals. The classic startup rollercoaster. But this time, the lows felt lower. The stress was more intense. I was sleeping less, eating poorly, and isolating myself from friends and family. I was irritable and anxious. I was, in short, a mess.
The Breaking Point
I remember one particularly brutal week. We had a major product launch, a key investor meeting, and a critical bug that was threatening to derail everything. I was running on fumes. I hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in days. I was snapping at my team, my family, anyone who came near me. I felt like I was failing on all fronts.
One night, I was driving home from the office, and I just pulled over to the side of the road. I couldn’t breathe. My heart was pounding. I felt like I was having a heart attack. It was a full-blown panic attack. That was my breaking point. I realized that I couldn’t keep going like this. I was going to lose everything I had worked so hard to build, not because of a market downturn or a competitor, but because I was destroying myself from the inside out.
That night, I did something I hadn’t done in a long time. I asked for help. I called my wife and told her everything. I reached out to a therapist. I started talking to other founders and was shocked to find out how many of them were going through the same thing. We were all fighting this silent battle, pretending to be invincible while we were crumbling inside.
The Road to Recovery
Recovery wasn’t a straight line. It was a messy, painful, and often frustrating process. But it was also the most important thing I’ve ever done. I had to unlearn a lot of the toxic habits that I had picked up over the years. I had to learn to prioritize my own well-being, not just the well-being of my company. I had to learn to set boundaries, to say no, to delegate. I had to learn that it’s okay to not be okay.
I started meditating. I started exercising regularly. I made a conscious effort to spend more time with my family and friends. I started to build a life outside of work. And slowly, but surely, the darkness started to lift. The anxiety started to recede. I started to feel like myself again.
I’m not going to sit here and tell you that I have it all figured out. I still have bad days. I still feel the pressure. But now, I have the tools to deal with it. I have a support system. And I have a new perspective. I’ve learned that true resilience isn’t about being invincible. It’s about being able to bend without breaking. It’s about being able to get back up after you’ve been knocked down.
A New Way of Building
My experience with depression has fundamentally changed the way I think about building companies. I’m no longer interested in the “growth at all costs” mentality. I’m more interested in building sustainable, healthy, and humane businesses. I’m more interested in building companies that value their people as much as their product.
This is why I’m so passionate about work-life balance. It’s not about working less. It’s about working smarter. It’s about creating a culture where people can do their best work without sacrificing their health and happiness. It’s about recognizing that we are not machines. We are human beings. And we need to take care of ourselves if we want to build things that last.
If you’re a founder, or anyone in a high-pressure job, and you’re struggling, please know that you’re not alone. There is help available. There is a way out. Don’t be afraid to ask for it. Your life is more important than your company. Your well-being is more important than your valuation. Don’t let the highlight reel fool you. The real victory is not the exit. It’s the journey. And it’s a journey that’s worth taking, even if it’s a difficult one.
Frequently Asked Questions
How has this view evolved over time?
My thinking on most topics has changed significantly over the years. Early in my career, I held many conventional views that experience proved wrong. I try to update my beliefs when the evidence changes.
How can I apply this thinking to my own situation?
Start by identifying the core principle behind the opinion, not the specific example. Then ask yourself: does this principle apply to my context? If yes, test it in a small, low-risk way before going all in.
Do all experts agree with this view?
No, and that's fine. The best ideas in business are often contrarian. I share my perspective based on my experience and data, but I encourage you to seek out opposing viewpoints and form your own conclusions.
What's the most common pushback you get on this?
People often push back by citing exceptions or edge cases. And they're usually right that exceptions exist. But building a strategy around exceptions rather than patterns is a losing game for most founders.