I owe everything I have to tattooing.

It’s not just about the art. It’s about the connections. This artform has made me a better person. Husband. Father. Friend.

It gives me purpose in my life. All the success that comes with it — the money, the fame, the accolades — none of that is the reason for what I do. None of that really matters.

Yeah — it’s nice. It’s nice to be able to provide a lifestyle for my family that I never would have imagined. To give my daughters a future I had to fight so hard to earn.

But the reason I keep pushing, the reason I’m so fulfilled by what I do, is the family tattooing has helped me create. My SDT family. The clients I’ve come to know.

And the family I go home to every night.

I owe it all to tattooing — but it’s so much deeper than just ink.

Tattooing Has Saved My Life — In More Ways Than One

2012: Skin Design Tattoos had outgrown our 800-square-foot starter, Los Vegas studio. My reputation as an artist was soaring, demand was unprecedented, and I was being spotlighted by the industry. We were breaking industry boundaries.

We needed a studio that could represent that — so we invested in a sprawling 4,000-square-foot, multilevel, Spring Mountain studio.

All exciting things, all a testament to the success of the brand.

But the excitement was laced with tension. The 90-day expansion spiraled into an almost nine month ordeal, chipping away at the foundation of my marriage with each passing week.

So much was happening all at once. The grand opening, Skin Design Tattoo’s traction and notoriety — everyone was rooting for me.

I felt like I was getting praise from everyone but my wife. I just couldn’t understand why, after all the support she’d shown me while I was struggling, hustling to make ends meet, she couldn’t show up for me now.

She was acting differently. We grew distant, fighting nonstop. I kept trying to coach my wife on how to act, who to be. Divorce — a word we’d never entertained before — felt like it was looming. We went to counseling (another previously foreign concept), and even the counselor was trying to help me “fix” her.

After each session, she’d come home and question what was wrong with her. I’d ask myself the same thing.

Realizing What Matters — and What’s at Stake

Another brutal therapy session left my head pounding. Back at the expanded shop, a migraine throbbed as I waited for my client. My gaze drifted, wondering how a broken home would scar our daughters.

I sat there, just rubbing my temple and wondering where it all went wrong.

My client walked in, took one look at me and asked, “You okay?”

I told him it was just a headache and we could go ahead and start. He asked me where it hurt, told me he was a physical therapist, and asked if he could help.

I laughed to myself and invited him to try. I’d been getting prescribed massages regularly, ongoing physical therapy sessions, all types of holistic treatments trying to make these migraines better. Nothing worked.

He somehow knew just the pressure point to hit. I sat there in awe as he massaged my head, the tension lifted away.

“What did you do?” I asked.

“I prayed for you,” he told me.

Touched, we started the session — a tattoo of Jesus.

I don’t know what it was, but I found myself opening up to this guy, really spilling my soul to him. Usually, I’m the one acting as a fill-in therapist. Not this time.

I went way back, dug deep. I told him about my roots, where I came from, how I’d built the beginnings of an empire from nothing. Then, I confided in him about the deteriorating state of my marriage.

I just couldn’t understand why my wife wasn’t rising to meet me at the top. Maybe she just wasn’t built for it, for the pressure of it all.

After listening for a while, he said, “It’s not your wife” He paused for a second before continuing, “It’s you.”

I stopped tattooing for a moment, ready to get defensive.

I thought we were having a moment and now he’s blaming me for my wife’s actions?

“Whenever someone in a relationship makes their way to the top, they have to remember to bring their partner with them.”

It hit me like a punch to the gut. Understanding washed over me.

I forgot to bring her with me.

There I was, reveling in the success of my studio, taking in all the praise, blaming my wife for the state of our marriage, and the fault was all mine. I never reached out my hand to pull her up beside me.

Instead of reaching out to guide her, I was ready to leave her there. I was lost in the shadow of success without my wife there to walk it with me.

I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with regret. How could I be so selfish, so careless towards the woman who’d stood beside me when I had nothing but odd jobs and a criminal record — who was the foundation for the success I’d finally found?

It all came crashing down. Guilt. Remorse. Shame. Sadness.

But beyond that — something even stronger — I felt this determination.

This drive to make things better. To make it up to her. To be the husband she needed me to be, the husband she deserved.

Throughout the session, I had to keep excusing myself. I kept having to take breaks in the bathroom, hoping he wouldn’t see the pain I couldn’t stop from taking over me.

Finally, it all made sense. I was so disappointed in myself. I prayed it wasn’t too late.

That was the day that everything shifted. Those words changed my life.

Picking Up the Pieces of My Marriage, Building a New Life — Together

When I got home that night, I went straight to Teena. I brought her outside with me to our backyard, to our pergola pond where we’d raised our kois, and I sat with her as we looked out at them.

I had to let go of my pride. I had to be honest, be vulnerable, and hope that my realization would be enough for us to heal.

I told her everything. I took ownership of my mistakes, and I recommitted myself to her, to our marriage, our family.

We both ended up in tears, but it was more than sadness. It was closure, wrapping up the previous chapter of our life that was defined by blame instead of togetherness.

That tattoo session ended up being one of my greatest gifts. That very same day, I was able to reconnect with my wife. My everything. The heart and soul of our family.

That client did more for our marriage than any therapist had been able to before — and we’d been trying everything, to anyone who would listen. It was an almost spiritual healing. I owe him so much.

It taught me so much, about life, about love, and about myself. Lessons I’ll carry with me throughout my life, pass down to my daughters, my apprentices — anyone willing to listen.

As much as I help clients create a version of themselves they want to be through art, they’ve helped shape the man I am today. They’ve helped me build a life and a legacy for my family.

This man came in, fixed my headache, and then healed my marriage. And I was supposed to be the one giving him a transformation.

The part that stands out to me the most? The name on his release form was signed “J.C.”

I can’t help but think of that as another sign from the universe, something far greater than coincidence.

God really does have his hands in everything.

Thank you God, for giving me the knowledge I needed to save my marriage. For teaching me how to trust, support, and have my patience with my wife. For making all of this possible — so we could meet our youngest daughter, Vanna.

Thank you, J.C., and to all the other clients I’ve had throughout the last three and a half decades, who’ve made such an impact on my life. For giving my life so much purpose.

And thank you, Teena, for the patience you showed me along the way. For walking this path with me — even when things feel impossible. For loving me even when I don’t deserve it. For being my ride or die.

Happy birthday, to my queen! My rock. Here’s to many more. Here’s to us.