Fuel for the Fire

(Honor and Ink™ Blog Series: Entry One)

Monday I started Intensive Outpatient Therapy with the Soldier Recovery Unit — another kind of mission, but this one’s internal.

After years as a Medic early in my career, and decades as a Soldier with seven combat deployments, I’ve seen more than most people ever will. I’ve also carried more than I ever realized.

The hardest part isn’t admitting that it’s taken a toll — it’s accepting that healing requires the same courage as the fight did. For years, my focus was on holding it together, being the leader others could count on. But this part of the journey isn’t about rank, uniform, or image. It’s about honesty, humility, and learning to stand as just me — John.

I know it won’t be easy. Healing rarely is. But just like building a tattoo, it starts with intention, patience, and trust in the process.

Layer by layer, line by line, I’ll start to uncover what’s underneath the scars — and maybe even find new meaning in them.

This is my next mission. Not about surviving, but about becoming whole.

Every rebuild starts somewhere.

This week marks the start of a different kind of work — not on metal, not on machines, but on myself.

After years of operating in survival mode, I’m finally learning what it means to rebuild from the inside out.

This original drawing I did — a classic hot rod with fire roaring behind it — captures that feeling. It’s not about destruction; it’s about transformation. Fire burns away what no longer serves, but it also tempers what remains, making it stronger, sharper, more resilient.

Like every good rebuild, healing takes patience, precision, and the right mix of fuel and fire. Some days, that means slowing down when every instinct wants to push harder. Other days, it means hitting the gas and trusting the road ahead — even when the destination isn’t clear yet.

I’ve learned that you can’t rush the process. Whether it’s tattooing, recovery, or art, real progress happens one layer, one line, one step at a time.

I’m not afraid of the flames anymore. They remind me that transformation always starts with heat.