When Life Feeds You A Shit Sandwich, Call Dale Earnhardt Jr.

I’m torn between wanting to document everything that’s happened and feeling the need to dive deeper into the emotions behind it all. But I’m exhausted, and I know everyone else is too. The aftermath of Helene has weighed heavily on everyone’s mental health.

It’s 6:22 AM on a Friday, and I’m sitting in a hotel room in Charlotte, NC. I came here on Wednesday to speak at the Confluence Music Conference, hoping it might offer a little reprieve—a chance to see friends and take a breather. But it hasn’t felt like that at all. Not even close.

I’m here, physically, but mentally I’m elsewhere. Part of it is my own fault. I can’t just check out and be present at the conference because I’m still tied up in relief efforts. I’m squeezing in phone calls between panels, primarily working on securing water totes. I know we need a lot, and several friends are helping. I’ve skipped eating breakfast and grabbing tea at the hotel just to work right up until the last minute, hoping there’ll be something for speakers when I get to the venue.

As I arrive at the venue, My buddy Dave texts me that he’s in touch with Dale Earnhardt Jr. and his sister, and he asks for a specific request. I copy and paste a message I just sent someone else about what we need. Dave forwards it to them.

I check in at the conference and grab my badge. They point me to some coffee containers at the bar, but when I ask for hot water, I’m told there isn’t any. I ask if there’s a coffee shop nearby—somewhere I can walk—but they say no. It hits me then that I won’t eat until lunchtime, a reality I’ve faced for days now. So much for finding any normalcy.

I see Dolph Ramseur, who manages the Avett Brothers. We’ve known each other a long time. We hug, and he asks how I’m doing. It’s hard not to default to “Livin’ the dream!”—what else do you say? He tells me the Avetts are releasing a shirt today featuring all their WNC tour dates and donating the proceeds to relief efforts. What he doesn’t mention is that Echo Mountain is part of the shirt design. I find that out later when one of our engineers sends a photo in our group text. It’s a reminder of how many clients become friends, and the Avett crew is no exception. They’re good people. I’m thankful they’re doing something to help. Hopefully, it keeps WNC on people’s minds a little longer.

I attend a panel called “Live Music or Bust” featuring Liz Whalen from the Orange Peel and Eric Holt from Lovenoise. Liz and I have worked on so many projects together—starting at the Orange Peel 20 years ago, to getting the Save Our Stages Act passed, to redesigning Asheville’s noise ordinance. Eric and I were in Leadership Music together in 2019, the best class ever. For a moment, I feel like things are normal again. They’re discussing advocacy and the power of music, both economically and culturally—conversations I’m used to having with everyone from peers to elected officials. For a brief time, I’m reminded that I used to do more than just put out fires.

Dave texts me to expect a call from a guy at Brandt. At lunch, I get the call—he’s sending 360 water totes donated by Dale Earnhardt. It’s Dale’s 50th birthday. Happy birthday Dale!! You rock! I connect him to my contact for delivery. It’s a win, but there’s more to do. Dave, JD, and I still need more funding, but I’m confident we’ll make it happen. It’s amazing what can come together when people combine forces.

The local news wanted to interview someone from Asheville attending the conference, so I agreed to talk after my panel. But I was a little self-conscious—worried I looked too “clean” for a disaster interview. I had managed a shower that morning, and my hair looked good, not even a hint of dry shampoo yet. While I’ve been hoping my outside appearance masks how drained I feel, for this interview I wanted the opposite. I hoped I’d convey just how dire the situation is back home. That concern disappeared when I got back to the car, looked in the mirror, and saw my makeup was smudged all over. Thanks for the heads-up, WBTV!

I spent the evening with JD, Dave, his wife Sabrina, and their kids. We had drinks and ate ramen, which felt like such a luxury. We toasted to our successes and strategized on how to get the funds needed for the totes.

The conference continues today, but I’m heading home to relieve Charlie and give him my hotel room key so he can come to Charlotte for a shower and some dog-free sleep. Normally, I wouldn’t do this—every dollar counts when you’re in the festival business—but life is hard right now, and I’m going to take this small comfort for him.

It’s funny how it feels almost like we’re living through a pandemic again instead of a natural disaster. For those of us in the entertainment industry, it feels eerily familiar—losing all your work at once. It sucks.

I texted a friend whose festival was supposed to happen next weekend, simply saying, “I’m sorry life fed you a shit sandwich.” That phrase sums it up right now—life feels like eating a shit sandwich. She replied with a laugh, saying it was the best text she’d gotten that day.

I know it sounds crass, but it’s one of the few things we can all relate to. If you feel like life is serving you that same sandwich, I SEE YOU.

And for people outside of this, it’s hard to explain how life’s regular challenges haven’t stopped; they’re just amplified by the disaster. For example, one of my friends’ mothers is having surgery today, and I’ve mentioned my own mom’s health issues. A normally hour-long drive to see her now takes 2.5 hours because I have to go through Virginia. Friends are dealing with relationship problems, kids’ issues, or addiction recovery—while also navigating this crisis. Everything just feels heavier. And then there’s that survivor’s guilt.

The only resources I’m going to share with this post is ones related to mental health support. Because it’s wearing thin for folks and I want my WNC Community to know there are options for you.

I found this link from WLOS on a list of therapists that are offering pro-bono services. You can find it here.

Better Help is offering 3 months free

http://betterhelp.com/voucher

Use code: hurricane-helene-support

My dear friends Richard and Elizabeth Garzarelli are going to be hosting support at their retreat center, Quietude, in Black Mountain. I do not have the full details yet but I spoke to Richard yesterday and he said they would likely be hosting things as early as today. Once he sends me an update, I will update this post.

Feel free to comment with other options you may know about. We need it.