I had my first tattoo during the Covid years, at an age when most people would not expect someone like me to get one. Friends who knew me were surprised, and some probably wondered what had changed. The truth is, I had wanted a tattoo since I was eighteen. It simply took me decades to finally make that decision.
I chose a half sleeve on my right arm. To most people, it was simply a tattoo. To me, it slowly became something more, although I did not realise that at the time.
The first piece was a dream catcher. I liked the idea that bad dreams would stay away while the good ones remained. Then came a feather with birds flying freely into the sky. It reminded me of freedom, not the freedom to escape life, but the freedom to let go of the pain, struggles and memories I had quietly carried for so many years.
Next were four Bible verses. They were never meant to complete the artwork. I chose them because I needed those words close to me. At that time, I knew very little about faith, yet something in me was already reaching for hope.
The final piece was a flower. I simply thought it was beautiful. Only much later did I realise it represented something I had been searching for all my life: love.
For years, I believed I had chosen designs that simply meant something to me. Over time, though, I began to understand that each one reflected something deeper. Peace, freedom, hope and love were not just ideas I liked. They were things I had been longing for.
Without fully knowing it, I had been placing pieces of my own story onto my skin. The dream catcher, the birds, the Bible verses and the flower were all connected to something I had been searching for long before I knew how to name it.
Peace mattered because my mind had known so much unrest. Freedom mattered because I had carried memories and pain for far too long. Hope mattered because I did not always know what to believe. Love mattered because part of me was still wondering what it meant to truly feel loved.
At the time, I thought I was simply choosing artwork that felt meaningful. Years later, the meaning became clearer. Long before I understood faith deeply, something in me was already reaching towards the very things I would later come to find in God.
The tattoos have not changed, but what they mean to me has. They are still the same ink on my arm, yet I can now see that they were telling a story before I fully understood the story myself.