“Some tattoos aren’t meant to fade. Some tell a story. Some hurt like hell…”
I’ve got quite a few tattoos. They’re not just decorations or rebellion or whatever some people think. Every single one means something to me.
My right arm bears the most important tattoos. My sleeve is a herd of seahorses—a seahorse representing each one of my kids, biological, step, and adopted. And if you know anything about seahorses, you know the male carries the babies and gives birth. That symbolism runs deep for me. I’ve carried my kids in a different way through love, protection, and the kind of parenting that shows up every single day.
With those seahorses, I have a mermaid tattoo of my wife—my queen, my princess, my partner, the woman who has stood by me through every chapter of life in the last 18 years. It’s not just art; it’s storytelling. A mermaid surrounded by seahorses represents her as a mother, a guide, and a presence that ties our whole family together. I carry all of them with me, quite literally. I wear my heart on my sleeve.
And it’s not just about the ink. It’s about what it represents. Melanie and I have created a tradition together. In November 2023, we started to get matching tattoos every time we traveled and stayed in a new state. The tattoos would represent that area or the state we got it in. They aren’t souvenirs; they’re symbols of our bond. These tattoos mark more than places. It shows our growth, resilience, and how we always show up for each other. Through the best times and the hardest days, each other down and lift each other up. That’s what love looks like for us, and the ink on our skin proves this.
I also have matching tattoos with most of my kids. Some small, some detailed. It’s our bond inked into our skin. It’s a reminder that even though we’re not blood, they will always be my child, loved fully and fiercely, just as a father should.
Of course, the world and everyone in it have their opinions and feel a need to share them.
People see tattoos and jump to conclusions. Throw in the fact that I’ve been open about my mental health, and suddenly, some folks assume every piece of ink is some breakdown or cry for help. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Tattoos are how I reclaim my story. They’re reminders. They’re anchors. They’re healing.
Some of them were done during the hardest moments of my life. Some were celebrations. Some hurt like hell. But every one of them is mine. A visible sign that I’ve been through something — and I’m still here.
I’ve heard it all:
“What if you regret them?”
“What about when you’re older?”
“Isn’t that too permanent?”
But to me, when it comes to the permanence of tattoos, permanence isn’t the problem. It’s the point.
These tattoos are testaments to love, loss, fatherhood, struggle, survival, and growth.
As the song says, “My body is a temple, but my temple is a canvas.”
