09/12/2025
What Most People Get Wrong About Self-Care on Tour
Somewhere along the way, self-care got mislabeled as optional—
a luxury, a softness, something only certain people “need.”
But on tour, self-care isn’t a perk.
It’s survival.
It’s the quiet work that keeps the loud work possible.
Out here, the grind gets romanticized.
The ones who never slow down get praised.
But nobody escapes the cost.
And the people who think they can?
They’re usually the ones who crash the hardest.
Burnout doesn’t tap you on the shoulder. It waits until you’re already cracking.
The toll always shows up:
in your sleep, your patience, your heartbeat, your recovery, your relationships, your sense of who you are.
Touring always takes something—
and if you’re not putting anything back in, it will take more than you meant to give.
Self-care isn’t indulgence.
Indulgence is pretending you’re invincible.
Self-care is the discipline to stay human in an inhuman schedule.
It’s the walk after a brutal day because your mind needs a place to land.
It’s stretching in a hallway because your body remembers every mile even when you don’t.
It’s choosing water before beer, real food instead of whatever’s closest.
It’s saying, “I’m not okay,” before the damage becomes who you are.
And here’s the part people overlook:
Taking care of yourself isn’t selfish—it’s professional.
This industry runs on humans with rare skills and steady hands.
Crew aren’t disposable.
Artists aren’t machines.
A tour doesn’t function because everyone is tough—
it functions because people stay well enough to keep showing up.
So take the moment.
Rest. Move. Breathe. Unclench.
Care for yourself like you’re part of the crew—because you are.
Self-care isn’t something you earn at the end of a tour.
It’s what keeps you alive through it.
And if you ignore it long enough, it’s what you’ll wish you’d taken seriously a whole lot sooner.
