10/24/2025
This is so true!!
The Hidden Cost of Touring
Wake up on the bus. Don’t know the city. The time zone. You’re in Europe—can’t remember what country you’re in today. Shoes smell. Back hurts. Still fighting jet lag. No time to think. No time to feel.
Rough load-out. Bad sleep. Lukewarm shower. No lock. Forgot soap—again. Feeling low. Things unresolved at home. But you don’t say anything. Don’t want to bring others down. Don’t want anyone thinking you can’t do your job. So you push through. Take an Advil. Maybe three.
You check your phone. Text from dad: Mom’s in the hospital. No need to come home. Love you. You stare at it. When was this sent?
Then: bill past due. “When are you back?” “A/C’s broken.” “Did you get my message?” Messages come while you’re asleep. You reply at weird hours. Everything feels off.
“How you doing?” “Fine.” “Tired.” “Cool.” Keep moving. Load in. Fix gear. Skipped breakfast. Line check. Sound check. Guests. “Go for show.”
Tough show. A few mistakes. Thinking about mom. Too late to call now. Hope the band didn’t notice. Probably did.
Break down. Pack up. Bus call: 2am. Wired. Can’t sleep. Day off tomorrow. Then—repeat.
Final show. Final flight. Then—home. Crash hard. Wake up. Excited… but something’s off.
No call time. No radios. No forklift beeping. Just quiet. And it feels overwhelming. Like a loss. You miss the rhythm. The crew. Home feels distant. Routines gone. Starting back up feels impossible.
Now that you’re still… your back? It’s a herniated disc. You’ve been pushing through for weeks.
People at home missed you. You missed them. You try to explain… they don’t get it. They think it’s all fun and games. But the grind—eating, showering, no sleep, physical nature, disconnection—takes a toll. And things at home you still can’t fix.
Mom wasn’t okay. Your partner says they can’t do this anymore.
Touring gives. Touring takes. But tour won’t ever be your home—it’s not meant to be.
Take care of your relationships and your body. Stay connected to the people who know you, not just the version who works the stage.
Because someday, the road won’t be there.
And if you’ve let too much go—
the people you love might not be either.
