We are not drowning in information. We are all being fed stories designed to keep us compliant.

Every swipe, scroll, and AI-generated summary is a carefully measured drip of dopamine, fear, tribalism, and distraction.

Not to inform you. To influence you.
Not to empower you. To pacify you.
The more overwhelmed you are, the more likely you are to drift in the sea of life.

When I wrote I Think I Swallowed An Elephant, it wasn’t because I had everything figured out. It was because I didn’t. I was the guy who helped some of the biggest companies in the world design systems that moved people toward decisions. Micro-actions. Optimized flows. Persuasive stories at scale.

We knew how to guide customers to clarity. But somewhere along the line, I lost mine.

At one point, I was 277 pounds. Lost over 100 pounds and found the weight creeping back. Physically heavy. Mentally foggy. Living in a story I hadn’t consciously chosen.

I had spent my career helping brands like Google, MailChimp, Disney and many others grow by teaching them to simplify the customer journey. Yet I couldn’t simplify my own.

Every bite. Every missed workout. Every excuse. It wasn’t just a health issue. It was a belief issue. And belief issues don’t stay isolated. They leak.

They show up as a text or in your inbox when someone else’s urgency hijacks your priorities.
They show up on social media when your self-worth bends to invisible algorithms.
They show up in your business when you’re told the only way to succeed is to hustle until you burn out.

We’re all trying to make sense of a noisy world.

That’s why people fall for con men, cults, and so-called thought leaders who sell certainty like candy.
Not because they’re weak. Because they’re human.

And if you’re looking for clarity, identity, or belonging, you will follow whoever offers it loudest. They don’t want to see the world in shades of grey, when they can have the absolutes of black or white.

Just like the investors and doctors who believed in Elizabeth Holmes at Theranos.
Just like the educated, thoughtful people who joined Heaven’s Gate.
Just like the millions who mistake volume for truth online every single day.

The common thread is this. People outsourced their authority. The stuff your grandmother told you as wisdom. They stopped trusting their own internal compass. And started relying on someone else’s map.

That is not just dangerous. That is the real epidemic.

This is what I Think I Swallowed An Elephant is trying to fix.

It’s not a health book.
It’s not a business book.
It is a manual for taking your story back.

Because the elephant is not just about weight. It is the unspoken trauma, the unchecked habits, the unquestioned beliefs. It is the outdated code your brain keeps running.

And no, you don’t have to conquer it all today.

You just need to believe that you can. And take one bite.

One aligned decision.
One shift in language.
One small reclaiming of a belief that says, “This story is mine to write.”

Here’s the real truth.

The people who control the platforms want you overwhelmed. The ones who code the algorithms want you reactive. And the louder the world becomes, the more essential it is to protect the quiet voice that says, “I choose.”

This isn’t about motivation. It’s about sovereignty. It’s about coming home to the only authority that cannot be taken from you unless you give it away.

Let this book be a mirror. A tool. A system. A spark.

But most of all, let it be the moment you stop scrolling and start deciding. You’re not broken. You’re just running a story that no longer serves you.

Rewrite the story.
Reclaim your authority.
And finally, eat the elephant.