An unwritten rule has long governed the business world: never let them see you sweat. Leaders are expected to operate as perfectly polished corporate avatars, keeping their personal lives at a safe, academic distance.
I’ve never been good at that.
I was diagnosed with anorexia at 10 years old. My teenage years were defined by hospital wards, relapses, and a revolving door of residential treatment centers that felt safe in the moment but failed to prepare me for a life of recovery. I spent my sophomore year of high school doing family-based treatment—something my family and I stumbled upon—and it ended up saving my life.
When I co-founded Project HEAL at age 15, I spent the next decade listening to thousands of stories from people of all backgrounds struggling with eating disorders. My own openness about my struggle created a safe space that allowed others to share their raw, unfiltered truths with me. That decade of deep, organic market research proved that my experience was tragically common.
Years later, when my co-founder—a clinical psychologist—and I were pitching Equip, we decided to build it directly at the intersection of gold-standard science and lived experience. Each of those thousands of stories that were shared with me directly shaped the exact blueprint we built to drive lasting impact.
We made care virtual so families could recover in real life. We added coaches with lived experience alongside clinical teams. We worked with insurance companies so a bank account wouldn’t determine if someone lived or died. Because the foundation was rooted in a decade of listening instead of theory, our original pitch is largely the exact model we operate under today.
Passion fuels the push, but recovery builds resilience
It goes without saying that building a company that challenges entrenched healthcare systems is really hard. There are days when obstacles can feel insurmountable.
Focusing only on spreadsheets will rarely give a founder the stamina required to go through some of the hardest moments of scaling a business. You need a deep passion to keep fighting when doors start closing, and obstacles mount. Passion is what keeps you in the arena.
But resilience? That’s something that eating disorder recovery taught me firsthand. Recovery isn’t linear; it’s the relentless practice of falling nine times and getting up 10.
My history with mental illness didn’t make me a fragile founder; it gave me a huge reservoir of endurance. It reminds me of what’s at stake: ending a reality where someone dies from an eating disorder every 52 minutes.
Vulnerability as a business advantage
There’s a myth that as a company scales, the CEO needs to put up walls and become more guarded. I’ve found the exact opposite to be true.
Over the years, I’ve chosen to be open and honest about my ongoing mental health journey. Recovery isn’t linear, and this vulnerability has been so important in building trust.
Employees, investors, and partners have repeatedly told me that seeing a leader talk openly about recovery is humanizing and deepens commitment to our mission. In addition to building a new care model, we’re creating a culture where humanity and excellence can go hand-in-hand.
Redefining leadership
To be clear: being a vulnerable leader doesn’t mean treating your board or team like your therapist. There’s a big difference between dumping an active emotional crisis onto your team and sharing a hard-won perspective from a place of ongoing recovery. When shared with purpose, your story can become a catalyst for change.
The world doesn’t need more polished figureheads. We need leaders who are brave enough to use their lived experience to fix what no longer works.
Your story is your greatest competitive advantage.
Kristina Saffran is cofounder and CEO of Equip.
