“You do too much.” I’ve heard this many times in my life—usually when I try to explain what I do for a living.
The truth is, I don’t think I do too much. But like many others, I struggle to fit in all the things I want to do. As someone with ADHD, I’ve learned that when it’s managed properly, it can feel like a superpower. When it’s not? I feel like a rabid raccoon that just discovered coffee grounds in the trash.
Right now, I’m trying to balance my professional life with the immediate and long-term needs of my community. I have multiple jobs that pay my bills and bring me fulfillment, but at the same time, I see the urgent needs around me: people are cold, and people are hungry. I want to help. I want to raise money for propane heaters for those in temporary housing. I want to spend time prepping meals for organizations like Blunt Pretzels, who serve meals every day.
But it doesn’t stop there. Beyond addressing the immediate crisis, I want to contribute to long-term recovery. I want to help rebuild a community that is stronger, more just, and more equitable. I want to be part of local efforts to address climate change because these devastating events aren’t slowing down—they’re becoming more frequent.
At the same time, I have a personal life. I have a partner, dogs, and friends I want to spend time with. I love being outdoors, reading books, writing, and making music. These things feed my soul, but right now, they often feel like luxuries when there’s so much work to be done.
I haven’t written anything since I got back from my honeymoon. I worked straight through the holidays, riding a bullet train of deadlines until a stomach virus forced me to stop. My plan was to take New Year’s Day off, visit my mom in Tennessee, and hit the ground running on January 2nd. But the universe had other plans.
A few people reached out to check on me, saying they hadn’t seen me in their inboxes and were curious how I was doing. The truth is, there’s an ebb and flow to my schedule, and right now, it’s intense.
I’m producing a youth conference in Los Angeles on February 17th and a benefit for my community in Nashville on February 22nd. Add to that managing five young people who are helping with the Los Angeles event, and you get a sense of the pace I’m keeping. I’m currently deep into planning the Connect Beyond Festival, happening April 4th–6th in Asheville. When I’m not curating the festival lineup, I’m busy writing grants to help fund it.
Los Angeles and Nashville feel like home away from home. Over the past 18 years, I’ve spent more time in these cities than almost anywhere else. Nashville, in particular, reminds me of Asheville. The sense of community there is something I’m deeply grateful for.
Also, Los Angeles, my heart is with you. I wish there were two of me because I’d be side by side with you right now.
Yesterday, I spent the day reaching out to nearly everyone I know in Nashville to ask for help with the benefit event.
And can I just say—why is it so hard to ask for help?
I live my life in service to others, so why does asking for assistance feel like such a burden? Why do I worry people will think I’m taking advantage of them, even though this is for a good cause? Mental note: send this to my therapist before our next session.
I know the only way to get better at this is to practice. So here it goes:
Hell or High Water
I’m producing a benefit event called Hell or High Water on February 22nd in Nashville, TN. The evening will feature a multi-course dinner led by award-winning chef Sean Brock, a performance and conversation with the legendary T Bone Burnett alongside a curated group of his friends, a silent auction, and more.
100% of net proceeds will benefit WNC Tip It Forward, a relief fund providing critical financial support to local artists and food service workers directly impacted by Hurricane Helene. The region’s food and beverage industry and arts economy are still reeling after Helene devastated Western North Carolina last fall. While the disaster has faded from the headlines, recovery is far from over. Daily life in WNC still involves navigating broken roads and debris, searching for employment and shelter, dealing with long and complicated insurance processes, and simply trying to survive. The need is urgent.
How You Can Help
Want to support Hell or High Water? Here are some ways you can make an impact:
Silent Auction Items: Donate items of value to raise funds.
Press Connections: Help us secure national press coverage.
Ticket or Table Purchase: Buy a ticket or table to support the event.
Spread the Word: Share with your network on social media or via email.
Sponsorship: Sponsor the event to help offset costs.
Creative Ideas: Have other ideas? Let me know!
I know life balance is a universal struggle, but for me, this feels like uncharted territory. The challenges my community is facing are so immense, and my desire to help is so strong, that it’s hard to know how to prioritize—or where to start. It’s humbling, overwhelming, and deeply human.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a break and (hopefully) watch the Bills beat the Chiefs. And, because my ADHD won’t let me do just one thing, I’ll probably fold laundry at the same time.
Thanks for reading. If you’d like to help with Hell or High Water, feel free to reach out to me at jessica@connectbeyondfestival.com.