From Pawn to King: Sharing My Story
These last several weeks have been a blessing for me — and a tough one. Between the recent four-day Kauai collabo and last week’s six-artist anesthesia tattoo collaboration in Beverly Hills, life hasn’t had the chance to settle down. I’ve barely had the time to unpack, let alone relax.
None of that’s unusual for me. I feel like I’m constantly torn in a million different directions — between guiding my family, leading Skin Design, tattooing, mentoring, and the dozens of projects I’m working on in the background. Always creating. Always hustling, working toward something greater.
During that Kauai work trip, I got some long awaited news. Something that’s been happening on the sidelines for a long time, something that almost didn’t feel real — until now.
I got word from my friend Kyle that my book is finally done.
I can’t believe it. After two years in the making, it’s here. I can hold the pages of my life in my hand. It’s happening. It’s been such a surreal experience finally getting to read it.
As hard as it is reliving the most painful moments of my life, I know I have to trust the process; I have to trust that the journey this book will take me and my family on will be worthwhile.
Finding Strength in “Weakness”
The first read through was heavy; it was hard for me to keep turning the pages. No matter how engaging it’s written, it’s not easy to flip through one scene and onto the next when you know what’s waiting for you — when you’ve lived it firsthand and just barely survived it.
Even my wife - the person who knows me better than I know myself, who shares my heart, my soul, and has heard the most intimate details of my life - it was heartbreaking for her to read.
Three chapters in, she set the book down, got up, came to me, and cried. Knowing what I went through growing up, especially as we look at our own youngest daughter, Vanna, just four years old, was almost too much for her.
Looking down at my daughter’s face, we have the same eyes. It gives me peace to know I’ll never look into them and see the same pain I endured reflected back into mine.
My friend told me he had nightmares for months writing this book, living through what I went through.
As I’ve read through the worst chapters of my life, painful memories come back and feelings of shame fill my heart. The fear of reliving it tells me not to share my story with the world — tries to convince me it’s not worth it.
I’ve asked myself so many times, ‘Why am I doing this?’
For me, there’s a lot of fear in being vulnerable. Growing up, that same vulnerability would be taken for weakness.
But there’s something more powerful than fear. Determination. I know I’ve got to keep pushing.
Because, even though it’s my story, it’s not about me. It isn’t for me; it’s so much more than that — it’s for the people that can be helped through my pain, loss, and the triumph that’s come out of it.
I have to be strong enough to handle the weight of it all — the raw, openness of putting my life out there like that. I’ve got to stay positive. It would be a waste to not release it, to discard all that work we’ve done, all the lessons I’ve learned that I can share with the next generation.
I know that every hardship I’ve faced has served a purpose. To create the man I am today. To use those experiences to inspire others struggling in their own lives, to give them hope. To share with the world that, if I can go through what I did and still come out on top, so can they.
None of this should have happened to me. I shouldn’t have three beautiful, talented daughters who look up to me, a second family through SDT, a wife who loves me in spite of my past, and a life I never could have dreamed of — let alone thought myself worthy of.
None of this is for me to take in alone. It’s my responsibility to share these blessings with others.
The Game of Life
For the longest time, I’ve felt like I’ve had the ability to look at life in a different way than most. A different lens to interpret the world. Especially now — I’ve learned so much in my 53 years on this Earth.
It could be because of all the life experiences I had to go through. Or maybe God gave me a special gift, something I didn’t know about or how to use until now. Things feel so much clearer to me at this stage in my life.
Whatever it is, I’ve realized that life is a game and we are all players in it.
The Rules of the Game
There are so many roles we all play as human beings on this planet, so many different paths we can take that end up shaping who we are.
But ultimately, no matter your circumstances, that responsibility is up to you. It’s up to you how you handle what life gives you, what you create out of the pieces you were given.
Just like a game of chess, we can only control how we move. It’s all a mind game, a balance of who’s smarter, who can predict their opponent’s next move, who can plot ahead.
We can’t control what others do. But how we choose to feel and react in defense is entirely up to us.
From the moment we’re born, we’re all programmed differently — and how we’re raised plays a huge role on our mindset. Whether you think one-step ahead or ten-steps ahead, it’s up to you. Every move you make is a reflection of your capacity and prerogative.
You can play offensively, but know there’s a consequence for every decision you make. Be careful. Sometimes, you don’t know the move you’re making is a trap until it’s too late.
Either way it’s kill or get killed. Not everyone is built the same. Not everyone handles well under the pressure of their opponent: Life.
- Me playing chess with my friend Anthony — one of my closest friends and SDT brand ambassador since day 1
Understanding what you must go through to fulfill your destiny is hard.
Anticipating the movement of those around you, recognizing how they think, is a different task in itself — one that only God can fully understand and judge.
You will get beat, cheated, wrung around a few times before you decide to quit or give up.
People will leave you when you need them the most, will pray for your downfall when you thought they loved you. Too often, loyalty can be bought and sold.
And as competitive as I used to be in chess, I chose to stop playing for the same reason. In life, I no longer want enemies. But even then, the challenges and calls to fight again will never stop coming. It’s inevitable — peace is not a constant.
There’s a reason wars have taken place since the beginning of time.
Nobody wants to be forced in an arena to battle with opponents, to make tough decisions on how to survive — and in my case, how to protect the ones around me without jeopardizing myself. Leaving myself open, vulnerable, when it feels like I have a whole army relying on me.
Trying to get into the mind of your enemy is exhausting — trying to take them down before they can hurt you or the ones closest to you.
I learned so much from my past, from growing up fighting. I can tap into my past experiences and come out as a conqueror, a better player, a better thinker, someone who can detect weakness and take down my opponents.
But now, I realize that’s not sustainable for a healthy future. It was for nothing; it led me to a bad place — somewhere I was barely able to crawl out of.
Beyond the Battle
I didn’t want to be a warrior anymore. It’s the same concept as a soldier returning from war; they’re not the same.
They’re traumatized. But they face a choice: They can remain defeated — or they can rise above it and become wiser.
You can keep quiet and keep your experiences to yourself, let it eat you alive, or you can keep going in the hopes of finding peace one day. Rebuilding your life. Creating a future you can be proud of.
It’s up to you what you do with your story.
You can share your experiences with others and open up, freeing yourself from the pain you’ve held inside, heal, and become better for it. Stronger. Or you can hold it in, bottle it up, and try to suppress it — something that sounds tempting, even to me, after all this time.
It’s one of the hardest things I’ve had to do.
Opening yourself and your life to people to share with the world — it leaves you feeling so exposed. It’s much easier to go back to the battle arena than to do this.
Vulnerability is a very uncomfortable place, especially when you portray yourself as a warrior, a gladiator. The thought of what people might think of you is much more painful than your actual wounds.
But holding onto that image of yourself, sheltering it from people’s judgment, is almost like building a wall around yourself. Yes, it feels safer — but it can also keep the people you want closest to you out.
If you grew up like I did, it felt like an unwritten rule to look out for yourself first.
The pain and regret you will feel once someone betrays their love and loyalty to you could be astronomical; it can change you for the rest of your life.
You can become lifeless, unable to find trust, love, peace, and even joy in everyday life. The mind is very powerful. Your experiences in life could break you to the point of no return, even to the ones who love you the most.
Your body could be here, but your mind in space, unable to come back, unable to live again.
I’m hoping that hearing my story helps people overcome that inner voice, the one that tries to convince you that you’re not capable, not deserving of a better future.
That reading it helps them navigate the challenges life throws at you, in whatever form they come.
The Psychology of the Player: Navigating the Board
You can find all kinds of people in this game of life.
Some who cannot live without a woman, without the security of a partner. But depending too strongly can leave you open to attack.
In the past, when I would see opponents like that, I would plot and aim first at their queen to dismantle them and quickly take over the game. I’d know their weakness; they can’t operate without their significant other.
Others will lay their king down early on to avoid the agony of defeat.
Those are the same quitters in life I would never trust or want around my inner circle; they’ll give up on you when times are rough.
The stalemate masters are the ones I want to be friends with. These guys know they’re going to die, but they’re willing to do everything they can to escape a slow grueling death and to protect those around them. They will fight until their last breath to not give their opponent the satisfaction of an easy victory.
Throughout my time playing, I’ve learned a lot about reading people around me.
“People play chess the way they live their life.” An old-timer once told me.
I never did get to beat him in a match of chess — even after two years straight playing with him. But I know I’ll cherish the lessons he taught me for a lifetime. I hope someday, if he’s still alive, he will be proud of me and what I’ve made of myself in the game of life.
All my failures in life, I’ve learned to accept them, to recognize the power of God’s redemption and to trust that they’re all a part of His plan. I know that he’s used every obstacle as an opportunity for me to learn, grow, and share those teachings with others.
Through it all, I’ve learned the values compassion, love, patience, and understanding.
Without those, I’d still be the angry young man I was before.
This is why I am no longer a player, but an observer and teacher to the one’s still battling everyday in their own arena.
- Me teaching Reesa the rules of the game
I'm sharing my story in my upcoming biography, passing down the lessons I’ve learned along the way. To prove to the world the power of hard work and redemption.
I can’t wait to share it with you all.
