Tattooed, Tested, and Working from home?
- PRSL
- Jul 14
- 6 min read
I’ve got a rare, mythical thing happening right now — a whole month at home before I hit the road again for another three-month stretch. The last time I was in one place this long was... what, December? I think it was December… maybe? Then again, I toured with The Toadies and Vandoliers in December, so that timeline might already be a lie. Honestly, time gets weird when you live out of a suitcase and measure your life in venue parking lots and green rooms. Days blur, months overlap, and suddenly it's summer and you’re still trying to figure out if you paid your electric bill. I do know I have a car payment since I got the notification it could be repoed so yeah, that is fun.
Every time I land back home, I have these dreamy, overly ambitious plans: I’m going to catch up on every email, clean up the chaos, maybe even get my life together just a little bit. And then reality sets in — which, in my case, includes the ongoing turf war with the mice who have decided my house is actually theirs. (Spoiler: they are organized, persistent, and rude.)
Being gone 200+ days a year doesn’t exactly help my case. I disappear for tour, and they treat it like an Airbnb. Every time I come back, they’ve gotten a little bolder — probably unionized by now. But I’m here, I’m caffeinated, and I’m determined to make the most of this brief break from the road, mice be damned.
So while I try to conquer the overflowing inbox and hold the line against the ongoing rodent insurgency, I figured it was time to lift the curtain a bit — not on road life, but on what it looks like behind the screen. Because even when I’m home, it is filled with days off but an endless tackle of my to do list.
On any given day, I’m juggling 50 to 100 emails across multiple inboxes. And fun fact: if you’ve ever emailed Punk Rock Saves Lives, there’s a very good chance it landed directly in my lap. Yep, it’s a hoot. Truly.
But I did something totally against my nature — I asked for help. I went against my usual behavior of white-knuckling everything and not trusting anyone else to carry the load. I let someone in. Enter Henry from Keep Flying — who, bless him, now filters through all the contact form submissions. Linktree, our website, the donation platform — they all go to Henry now. And if he doesn’t know where something belongs? It ends up back with me anyway. But at least now there’s a buffer between me and some of the emails.
Honestly, this should make it WAY faster for people trying to make a connection with PRSL to get one. I have been so behind because I just have too much on my plate. I am working on making it better since I know my struggle is just hurting the opportunities out there. Call this a process improvement. You are welcome.
Letting someone help might seem like a small thing — a little logistical fix to an annoying problem — but for me, it was bigger than that. It cracked open something I didn’t realize I was still gripping so tightly: this idea that I have to carry everything on my own. That if I don’t do it, it won’t get done right. That asking for help somehow means I’m failing.
That kind of thinking creeps in slowly. Especially in nonprofit work. Especially when the mission feels personal. And before you know it, you’re buried under the weight of your own expectations — too proud, too tired, and too stubborn to ask for a damn hand.
But the truth is: letting someone help doesn’t make the work less important. It makes it sustainable. It makes it possible to keep going without completely burning out. And it reminds me that Punk Rock Saves Lives isn’t just me and Rob — it’s a whole community. It's folks like Henry stepping in. It’s volunteers showing up in the rain. It’s every person who says, “What do you need?” and means it.
So yeah. I asked for help. And I’m learning that’s not weakness — that’s survival. That’s growth. I am trying.
All of this brings me to the ever-growing to-do list that never really stops ticking in the background. The stuff no one sees — the spreadsheets, the planning, the grant research, the donor follow-ups, the website updates that make me want to throw my laptop into the sun. I try to tackle it all in a timely way, but if I’m being real… it doesn’t always happen. I’m human. I get overwhelmed. The list grows faster than the hours in the day.
And yeah — I want to ask for more help. I need to. I would absolutely love for folks to step up and lighten the load. But here’s the thing I need to say out loud: I’ve been burned. A lot. People have offered, promised, hyped up how they’re going to help — and then vanished. One example? The website. Technology is not my strong suit. It takes me forever, I get wildly frustrated, and I end up rage-Googling things at 2am. I’ve had seven different people say they’d take over and help with it. Seven. And every single one either ghosted, dropped off, or didn’t follow through.
That kind of pattern makes it hard to keep asking. It makes it harder to trust. So if you’re someone who’s serious about stepping in and helping — not just with the website, but anything — know that I see you, and I’m open. But also know that follow-through matters more than big promises. I’d rather have someone quietly do the work than hype it and disappear. This mission is too important, and too exhausting, to keep pouring energy into dead ends.
Now for a quick look at the horizon before I spend the next couple hours reworking this entire blog… because if there’s one thing worse than hearing my own voice, it’s reading it. Seriously. Who let me type like this?
While I’m home, I’m trying to declutter the closet (again), fight the never-ending mouse rebellion (again), and carve out a little space for my dogs and my friends — you know, the people who remind me I’m not just a nonprofit robot with a clipboard. But even in this downtime, the gears are turning.
The next three months are a full sprint. I’m talking packing up supplies, checking and double-checking the van, and making sure every little piece is ready to roll.
It all kicks off with Lollapalooza, then we dive straight into tour with Simple Plan and Bowling for Soup, where we’ll be hyping the hell out of the Simple Plan Foundation at every stop. These guys have been so generous in opening their stage and their audience to us, and we plan to make every night count.
From there, it’s on to Four Chord Festival (massive love to Rishi for always including us — and go listen to his band, Eternal Boy), then I hit the road again with The Bouncing Souls, then Iron Roses, Furnace Fest, Iron Hills Fest, a brief crash at home, and then right back out with Bowling for Soup heading straight into Warped Tour.
It’s going to be a lot. But it’s going to be worth it. Every mile, every swab, every conversation at the table — it all adds up.
SO if you’re still reading this and thinking, “I want to help,” first off — thank you. That means more than you know. And second — here’s what we actually need:
🖥️ Website/Tech Help – If you genuinely know your way around Squarespace or web management and are willing to follow through, I’m begging you… let’s talk.
📬 Admin Social Media Help – Even an hour a week replying to comments and questions on our socials.
🎨 Graphic Design/Promo – We have ideas. We have events. We need visuals to match, especially for social and fundraising pushes.
🧠 Mental Health & Harm Reduction Pros – Always looking to grow our network of people who can contribute to the resource side of what we do.
If any of that sounds like something you can commit to — not just in theory, but in practice — please reach out. You can email info@punkrocksaveslives.org. I promise to respond, even if it’s not the same day. And if you’re not sure where you fit, but you’ve got time and heart to give? That’s valuable too.
Just… be real. Be ready. Because we’re not playing nonprofit cosplay here — we’re trying to save lives, build community, and survive the burnout while doing it.
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