My Story

The long version. Because the short version doesn't do it justice.

The Beginning

I was the fat kid. That's not self-pity. It's just the truth.

Growing up, I carried about 75 extra pounds on a frame that hadn't figured out what it was supposed to look like yet. I had severe acne. I was sick constantly. And I had a stutter bad enough that ordering food at a restaurant felt like standing at a podium in front of a thousand people.

I don't tell you this for sympathy. I tell you because that kid is the reason I do what I do today.

Somewhere around the time most teenagers were figuring out prom, I decided I was done. Not in a dramatic, movie-montage kind of way. It was quieter than that. I just started making different decisions. One meal at a time. One workout at a time. One small habit replacing one bad one.

Seventy-five pounds later, I didn't just look different. I was different. The stutter didn't disappear overnight, but as my body changed, something shifted in the way I carried myself. Confidence isn't something you find. It's something you build. And I built mine one rep at a time.

That experience taught me the most important lesson of my career, long before I ever stepped into a classroom: the body and mind are not separate systems. Fix one, and you create space to fix the other.

The Diagnosis

At 19, I was doing everything right. Training hard, eating clean, building momentum. But something was wrong and I couldn't name it.

The brain fog was relentless. Not the kind where you forget your keys. The kind where you sit in a lecture hall and the words on the board look like they're underwater. My energy was nonexistent. My motivation, which had carried me through a 75-pound transformation, was evaporating.

I got my bloodwork done. Testosterone: 63 ng/dL.

For reference, the normal range for a male is 300 to 1100. I was 19 years old with the hormonal profile of someone whose endocrine system had essentially shut down.

I started testosterone replacement therapy, and within weeks, the fog lifted. It wasn't subtle. It was like someone turned the lights on in a room I'd been stumbling through for years. I went from barely functioning to becoming President of Phi Beta Lambda at the University of South Florida. I earned Rookie of the Year at Vivint. I built businesses.

That experience didn't just change my trajectory. It radicalized my thinking about medicine. Because here's what haunts me: what if I hadn't gotten that blood test? What if a doctor had looked at a 19-year-old with fatigue and brain fog and handed him an antidepressant? How many people are living diminished lives right now because nobody thought to look at the root cause? That question drives everything I do.

The Injuries

In 2014, I ruptured my right patellar tendon. Complete tear. Surgery. Months of rehabilitation.

In 2015, on the exact same day, one year later, I ruptured the left one.

I'm not superstitious, but the universe has a dark sense of humor.

What followed was nearly a decade of chronic, debilitating knee pain. The kind that reorganizes your life around what you can't do. I tried everything conventional medicine had to offer. Physical therapy. NSAIDs. Rest. More physical therapy.

Then I found BPC-157 and TB-500. Peptides. Compounds that most doctors had never heard of and most patients had no access to. Within months of starting a targeted peptide protocol, my pain decreased by roughly 80%.

I went from someone who had to think twice about climbing stairs to someone who could train again. Not just exercise. Train. The difference between those two words matters to me.

That experience is directly responsible for Delphi Biopeptides and for the peptide therapy protocols I use at Oracle Wellness. I didn't read about peptides in a journal and think "that's interesting." I lived the transformation. And now I make sure my patients and fellow practitioners have access to the same quality compounds that gave me my knees back.

My Mother

This is the part I need to get right. Not for marketing. Not for my brand. For her.

My mother suffered a traumatic brain injury when I was very young. She was riding her bicycle and was struck by a truck. She survived. But the person she was before that accident and the person she became after it were not the same.

For twenty years, she battled depression and anxiety. She saw doctors. She took medications. She did what the system told her to do. And the system treated her symptoms. It managed her. It maintained her. It never once looked for the root cause of why her brain wasn't functioning the way it needed to.

On New Year's Eve 2012, my mother took her own life.

I carry that with me every single day. Not as a weight, although some days it is. I carry it as fuel. Because every patient who walks through my door dealing with brain fog, depression, anxiety, hormonal dysfunction, or any of the thousand ways the body signals that something is wrong at the root level... that patient is someone's mother. Someone's father. Someone's child.

And I refuse to practice the kind of medicine that failed her. I refuse to manage symptoms while the cause goes unaddressed. That is not medicine. That is maintenance. And maintenance is not enough when someone's life is on the line.

If you take nothing else from my story, take this: root-cause medicine is not a philosophy. It's a moral obligation.

100 mi/day

Commute

5-6 hrs

Sleep

Cum Laude

Graduated

3 Sons

Born during school

The Grind

In 2021, I enrolled at Life University to earn my Doctor of Chiropractic degree.

Here's what that looked like in practice:

I commuted 100 miles a day. I was a new father. Johannes was born during my first year. Leonidas during my second. Adonis during my third. Three sons in three years of doctoral education.

I maintained my physique. I maintained my coaching clients. I maintained my sanity, most days, through meticulous optimization of my own biology. Mitochondrial support protocols that let me operate at a high level on 5 to 6 hours of sleep. Strategic nutrition. Disciplined training.

I graduated Cum Laude.

I'm not saying this to impress anyone. I'm saying it because it's proof of concept. The protocols I teach my clients and patients aren't theoretical. They're what I used to build a life that, on paper, shouldn't have been possible. I am the experiment. And the experiment worked.

I believe the human body is the most sophisticated system ever engineered. And I believe most of modern medicine treats it like a broken appliance.

Something hurts? Suppress it. Something's off? Medicate it. Something's wrong? Manage it.

I reject that model. Not out of arrogance. Out of evidence. Out of lived experience. And out of grief for a mother who deserved better than what that model gave her.

My approach is simple: find the root cause. Address the root cause. Give the body what it needs to do what it was designed to do. Support it with precision. Optimize it with intention. Respect it with humility.

The body wants to heal. The body wants to perform. Our job is to stop getting in its way and start giving it what it actually needs.

Family

Jamie is my wife. She is the reason any of this works. Behind the degrees and the businesses and the early mornings is a woman who holds it all together with more strength than I'll ever have.

Johannes, Leonidas, and Adonis. Three boys. Three reasons I wake up before the sun. Three reasons every business I build, every patient I help, every word I write carries weight beyond my own ambition.

I'm building a legacy. Not in the abstract, motivational-poster sense. In the literal sense. I want my sons to grow up watching their father pursue something that matters. I want them to understand that discipline isn't punishment. That vulnerability isn't weakness. That the measure of a man is not what he accumulates but what he contributes.

Everything I do, I do with them in mind.

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