Balloons de Feline | Fiction, Music, Chaos & Catharsis

The holidays hit different when you’ve lived a life on the road.

There’s this strange mix of nostalgia, exhaustion, and gratitude that settles in when the year starts winding down. I’ve spent enough seasons touring to know that December doesn’t always mean slowing down—it just means shifting gears.

Some years, I was unpacking a suitcase just long enough to repack it again. Other years, the holidays became quick phone calls backstage, hotel lobby coffee, and trying to squeeze in moments of “normal” between soundchecks and long drives. It wasn’t glamorous… but it was real.

And honestly? I kind of miss that rhythm sometimes.

Now, working on Backline and everything that’s come from it—interviews, signings, the band brand, all of it—I’m in a new season. But the holidays always bring back that old touring mindset:

make the most of the in-between moments.

Here’s what the road taught me, and what the holidays keep reminding me:

Stillness is as important as the spotlight.

When you’re touring, quiet moments are rare. During the holidays, they’re gifts—chances to breathe, reset, and reconnect.

Your people matter more than your schedule.

I’ve raced across states just to make it home in time for a single holiday dinner. Those memories outshine any show.

Traditions don’t have to look traditional.

A gas station Christmas Eve with the band? Done it. A hotel lobby New Year’s toast? Yep. The meaning was still there.

Your story follows you wherever you go.

Whether I was backstage or in someone’s living room, the themes that shaped Backline—mental health, resilience, survival, identity—were always with me.

Now, as I step into the holidays this year, I’m carrying something different:

a sense of peace with where I’ve been and excitement for where I’m going.

This season isn’t just about lights and gifts—it’s about honoring every version of myself who kept going. The one who toured through December. The one who wrote through heartbreak. The one who built something from scratch. The one who’s still evolving.

If you’re someone who’s ever spent the holidays on the move—working, touring, grinding, surviving—I see you. There’s a special kind of strength in that life. And there’s a special kind of magic in learning how to slow down afterward.

Here’s to a holiday season filled with rest, rhythm, and reminders of how far you’ve come.

Whether you’re onstage or at home—you’re exactly where you need to be.