Tattooed, Tested, and Touring: Starting the Yellowcard Run

It took 1,728 miles over four days to get to Philadelphia for Sing Us Home Festival before this tour even officially started. The hours blur together somewhere between truck stop coffee, podcasts, panic spirals, and trying to remember if you actually answered that email or just thought about answering it. This is my apology for all the emails that get lost in the shuffle.

But Sing Us Home reminded me why I keep doing this.That festival feels different. It genuinely feels like a festival for families. Kids running around like a pack of wild creatures. Tiny humans making friends with other tiny humans within thirty seconds of existing near each other. No awkwardness. No fear. No overthinking every interaction.

Just: “You like this thing too? Cool. We’re friends now.” Adults lose that somewhere along the way.

We build walls around ourselves. We hesitate. We overanalyze. We worry about saying the wrong thing or being too much or not enough. Watching kids exist so freely honestly felt emotional this weekend. A reminder that community is supposed to be simple. Lately community has not felt simple to me, and I needed a carefree kinda weekend. From the outside festivals always look like you get to have the best time, but typically I am worn out and too stressed to enjoy any part of it.

Then again Sing Us Home hit different. And somehow, in one of the most surreal moments of the weekend, we got to watch JOHN STEWART play drums in his band, Church and State.

John Stewart in Church and State

Yes. That Jon Stewart.

One of those moments where your brain just kind of short circuits for a second because life on the road is so weird sometimes. One minute you are sweating while unloading bins in a parking lot and the next you are watching a cultural icon play drums at a punk festival.

Then came another 779 miles to Atlanta. All to officially start this run with Yellowcard, New Found Glory, and Plain White T's.

And honestly? I am nervous. The anxiety is causing my eyes to lose focus.

Yesterday I had a massive panic attack. The kind where your chest tightens and your heart races so fast you genuinely question if you remember how to breathe correctly. The kind where your thoughts start stacking on top of each other faster than you can process them.

I always get this way before tours with new people, new venues, new expectations.

A lot of these venues are similar in size to the ones we worked on the Simple Plan run and, if I am being real, those days were hard. Every single day felt difficult trying to get set up, get active, stay mentally present, and keep moving while also pretending my brain wasn’t running a marathon in the background. Most of the venues didn't get the memo I was coming and I had to fight to get set up.

That sucks to admit sometimes because people romanticize this life so heavily. They see the bands.The laminates.The backstage photos.The cities. They do not see the moments where your hands shake while setting up the table.They do not see the moments where you sit in the van trying to calm your nervous system down before doors open.They do not see the exhaustion that comes from constantly needing to be “on” while carrying your own heaviness quietly.

And on top of all of that, this week already hit emotionally before the tour even began. Monday put a lot of fears about taking leaps into my head. I have been so sure of my path moving forward regardless of what life throws at me, but something about Monday cracked through that certainty a little. My heart took a hit. One of those hits that sits heavy in your chest long after the moment itself is over.

So this week, I am trying to move slowly and steadily with myself. Not perfectly. Not fearlessly. Just gently.

That is the thing about touring while being anxious, grieving, overwhelmed, or heartbroken. The miles do not stop because your brain is loud. The road keeps moving. The shows keep happening. The table still needs to get set up. So you learn how to carry yourself through it anyway.

Tattooed.Tested.Touring. And still trying.

Tina