Left Arm: A yellow rose vine stretching from wrist to shoulder, featuring open and closed roses, with an angel memorial tattoo honoring my dad, Craig Richard Alexander DeRyckere (CRAD, 1943-2000) (2003) Left Hand: A rose with a pocket watch displaying 6:15 and 1977, symbolizing my sister’s birth (2021)
Right Arm: A leafless tree with a snake (the devil), and Eve turning away with a skeletal arm after picking the apple, representing the biblical fall from grace, fading into the night sky and galaxy. A baby fetus/planet being born symbolizes the intersection of science and religion (2001)
As far back as I can remember, tattoos were a window into something magical. I was just a kid, sitting in a restaurant with my mom and sister, when I first saw him—a man across the room with a bio-mechanical tattoo sprawling across his arm. In that moment, something clicked. This wasn’t just ink on skin; this was art, personal expression, a story waiting to be told. My family didn’t see it that way. “Tattoos are for troublemakers,” they’d warn. “You’ll regret it. People will think you’re in a gang.” But those words never stuck. Even at eight or nine, I knew there was something more to tattoos than the stigma.
My first tattoo came at seventeen—a rebellious act, hidden from my mother’s watchful eyes. Little did I know then that these permanent marks would become so much more than teenage defiance. They would become my healing, my memoir, my way of processing a childhood marked by complexity and pain. Growing up in an alcoholic home wasn’t easy. The verbal abuse, the physical violence from my father—a man I loved deeply despite everything—left scars that ran far deeper than any ink could reach. But slowly, tattoo by tattoo, I began to understand myself differently. When my father passed away, there were so many unspoken words hanging between us. That’s when the yellow roses came—an entire sleeve dedicated to the man behind the addiction. Yellow roses, the symbol of friendship, are something my father always gave my mother on their anniversary. It was my way of remembering him not for his struggles, but for his heart. My sister’s tattoo is different—a delicate rose intertwined with an old-school timepiece, frozen at 6:15 to represent her birthday. She’s no longer with me, but every time I look at my hand, she lives.
1977 etched beside the rose—a reminder that she’s eternal, that love transcends physical presence. The tattoos became my language of healing—each one a chapter, each design a paragraph in my story of survival. My right arm tells a different tale—a complex narrative of spiritual exploration. Catholicism, science, personal belief—the universe, Eve, the snake—all intertwined in a visual representation of my ongoing quest for understanding. People often ask about the pain of getting tattooed. But for me, the real pain was always inside—the childhood trauma, the loss, the confusion. These tattoos? They’re my way of transforming that pain into something beautiful. Something meaningful. I’ve learned that tattoos aren’t just about decoration. They’re about resilience. They’re about telling your story when words fail. They’re about honoring the journey—where you’ve been, who you’ve become, and where you’re heading. My body is a map now—each tattoo a landmark of survival, love, and forgiveness. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. When I close my eyes, I can see them all—the memories, the people, the moments that shaped me. And when I open them, they’re right here—etched into my skin, permanent and powerful.
This is my story. This is my skin. These are my tattoos.
“Being resilient AF isn’t just a choice—it’s a survival strategy. Life will throw insurmountable challenges at you, but resilience is your superpower. Treat setbacks as lessons, not defeats. Develop mental toughness like you’re training a muscle: practice, push your limits, and refuse to break. When obstacles come, don’t just survive—learn to adapt, grow, and ultimately thrive. Resilience isn’t about never falling but how quickly and powerfully you get back up. Make being resilient as essential to you as breathing—because in this unpredictable world, your ability to bounce back is what will define your success.”
“ Resilience isn’t complete until there is Forgiveness ”
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