My newest podcast obsession

Malcolm Gladwell, New York Times bestselling author of Blink and The Tipping Point, has a new podcast and I am OBSESSED.

“Revisionist History will go back and reinterpret something from the past: an event, a person, an idea. Something overlooked. Something misunderstood.Because sometimes the past deserves a second chance.”

— Malcolm Gladwell

The entire season is great and covers topics as varied as the fall of Saigon to the best way to shoot a free throw. Every episode - no matter the topic - I find myself exclaiming, "REALLY!?!" 

However, it's a three-part series on college that left me shocked and angry and basically cornering people at parties to inundate them with every detail. (Go ahead and listen now and save yourself the trouble.) He begins with how well we do as a country of capitalizing on talent - especially talent found in very poor areas. (Spoiler alert! Not well.) This episode also contains the most succinct definition of privilege I've ever heard.

The next episode addresses how well colleges use their budgets to reach out to low-income students and the last (and most infuriating) addresses college and their multi-billion dollar endowments. 

Y'all, go hurry up and listen so we can talk about it!

Floating: My 90 minutes of bliss

Photo Credit: garrett.frandsen via Compfight cc

Several months ago, my friend Jessica started raving about float tanks. Jessica - like me raves about all her new discoveries - and she's usually right (ESPECIALLY about Christmas prep). She began describing a sensory deprivation tank filled with 10 inches of body-temperature water and 1000 pounds of salt. You float in the pure dark with no sound for an hour or so. She described as rejuvenating and relaxing.

I was immediately intrigued.

Apparently, float tanks were invented in the 1950s by neuropsychiatrist John C. Lilly. Originally, people were submerged in an effort to relax their mind but the breathing apparatuses were too clunky so they moved to the floating model. Several studies have shown floating to have a positive effect on stress levels and many other stress-related conditions.

I live with three boys under the age of 7. They had me at dark and silent. 

Unfortunately, there are no floating centers in Paducah. When Beth and I went to Philly for the Democratic National Convention, I decided to try it out while we were in a big city with float centers. Two weeks of political conventions seemed to call for sensory deprivation anyway. 

Beth decided to try it out too and one morning we headed over to Halcyon Floats. 

The prep is minimal, although they do advise you not to drink caffeine and eat about an hour before you come. That way you're not jittery or hungry halfway through the session. You shower, plug your ears, and hop in the tank. You can close the lid to the tank or not. I chose to close the lid because I wanted total darkness.

The ability to float so easily is amazing. I literally stretched out and tensed every muscle in my body and remained floating, which was a completely bizarre experience. Our session was for 90 minutes - which apparently is a little long for beginners - but I was glad because it took me a while to get comfortable in the water.

When I first laid back, I felt like my shoulders were touching my ear lobes. They give you a short pool noodle to prop up your neck. However, that felt too restrictive. Finally, I figured out if I put my arms up by my head my back and shoulders would relax. I stayed in that position the rest of the time.

I was pretty sleep-deprived so I fell asleep a couple of times but I have no idea how many times or for how long. Once I was comfortable the time passed very quickly. In fact, the only stressful thoughts I had were, "Hurry up and think through some deep stuff before your time runs out!"

Unfortunately, because I fell asleep I think my body temperature dropped and by the time the timer went off I was starting to get a bit cold. 

Otherwise, it was a completely enjoyable experience and after I had showered and gotten ready I felt like my muscles were melted butter - apparently due to all the magnesium from the epsom salt. 

I would absolutely do it again. Although not for the claustrophobic obviously, I'd also recommend it. Being alone with our thoughts can seem scary in a world where distractions are always a click away. However, I found it helpful and enlightening to challenge myself.

Peace and quiet are always what we're longing for but sometimes they come in the opposite order quiet... then peace. If I have to get in a float tank to find some, sign me up.

Donald & Hillary: My trips to the conventions

The balloon drop at the RNC

First up, I went to see Donald Trump in Cleveland. Beth and I got last minute credentials for the final evening of the Republican National Committee's Convention and decided to make the trip. Wednesday night I left Paducah late hoping to arrive at Beth's house in Cincinnati by 9pm and then wake up early to drive the rest of the way to Cleveland.

The universe had other plans and I was waylaid by a nail in my tire in Elizabethtown. I didn't arrive at Beth's house until almost midnight.  

Early the next morning, we set out for Cleveland and got to the Quicken Loans Arena a little after lunch. We were a little underwhelmed by the crowds. We saw our fair share of vendors hocking every offensive Hillary Clinton pin your heart could desire and a few random protestors but no raucous marches or seething masses. 

The line of police officers at the RNC

The convention didn't gavel in until 7:30pm so we spent most of the checking out the media tent and marketplace and interviewing some delegates. We left the area for dinner and when we came back, we had to walk through a football field's worth of police officers shoulder to shoulder. It was intense and a little disturbing. It is the most vivid memory I have from the RNC and we captured it on Facebook Live. 

Once the session began, there were fourteen speakers from CEOs to celebrities to Ivanka and Donald Trump. (I wouldn't realize how out of the ordinary that was until we go to the DNC). Ivanka did a good job, although I didn't particularly believe her assertions that her father was really going to stick up for women. 

We had gotten an advance copy of Donald Trump's speech that had been released to the press and Beth and I both were shocked by the dark and foreboding overall tone. I figured at the time that was because he was incapable of sticking to the script and that they at least wanted the message out there. From where we sat, we could see the prompter though and he only went off and ad-libbed a couple of times.

I won't get in to my thoughts on the speech itself, which I found bizarre and threatening. What I found most interesting were the reactions of the crowd. They couldn't quite get their footing. Half the crowd would stand and cheer at one point and the other half would stand and cheer at another. It was very interesting to watch as a person who has gone to party events and knows how partisans react when all the same page.

This crowd was decidedly not on the same page - unless that page was hating Hillary Clinton which always got the loudest and most consistent reaction.

The speech was long and we drove through the night to get back to Cincinnati. I got into bed at 5am and woke up three hours later to drive back to Paducah. I was completely exhausted so it took me a couple of days to process what we saw. 

Mainly, I left realizing that the GOP has desperately lost its way. Beyond the fact that the crowd was much smaller, I just kept looking around thinking "This isn't conservatism." The party I saw at that convention doesn't represent the smart, thoughtful, gracious conservatives I interact with every day in my hometown and it certainly doesn't represent my amazing co-host on Pantsuit Politics. 

If conventions are a four day commercial for a political party and its candidate, then I wasn't buying what they were selling.

By the next week, I was more than ready to head to Philadelphia.

Now, in fairness, we spent three whole days at the Democratic National Convention. Also, because of my connections from my DC days, there were concerts and fun meals and we even had time to try floating (a post for another time!). However, once we'd experienced a few days of the DNC we quickly realized how odd the RNC really was.

First, trending twitter hashtags aside (seriously, #showmeyourcrowd people you are wearing me out!) there were easily a third more people at the DNC if not more. We regularly found ourselves in a crush of people. Every single night people perched on stairs because there were no seats. By the final night, people were lining the hallways desperate for a seat.

There were empty seats the final night of the RNC - not a ton but there were.

Second, the programs were VASTLY different. The DNC gaveled in every night at 4:30pm - a full three hours before the RNC. There were SIXTY-FOUR speakers the final night of the DNC.

64 v. 14

There was your fair share of elected officials and celebrities but there were A LOT of everyday Americans sharing everyday stories of how a certain issue had affected them or how Hillary Clinton had helped them in their time of need. Perhaps most striking were the victims of gun violence who stated plainly they didn't want to be up there talking but that this is how they chose to honor the memory of their loved ones.

The balloon drop at the DNC

It was powerful stuff. If we weren't crying over an emotional story, we were having a love fest. This was the other huge difference between the two events. The RNC was only unified in what they were against - immigration, trade, terrorism, crime, Hillary. Whereas at the DNC, there was much more focus on what the party stood FOR - equality, diversity, the middle class.

The night Obama spoke - which felt like the most intense going away party in history - we literally held hands and sang "What the World Needs Now is Love Sweet Love." There were consistent protests from a small contingent of Bernie or Bust people every night but the crowd usually chanted over them and I never saw any physical altercations.

Lastly, the sheer event production at the DNC was leaps and bounds above the RNC. The band was better at moving the (very long) program along. Every night had its own narratives that the speakers built on and it all built to the final evening. The video content was well-produced and there was a lot of it. 

And THE SIGNS. Lord, the signs.

For every primetime speaker, arena volunteers would pass out signs themed to them or their speech. Obama signs for Obama. Joe signs for Joe Biden. And not just one sign - MULTIPLE signs per speech. It got to the point where I would have a pile in my lap. If I heard an applicable catchphrase, I would literally hold up my finger and say "Hold on! I have a sign for that!" as I desperately flipped through my stack.

There were no signs at the RNC.

That might sound silly but not only do the signs make an impact on television. They are a fantastic souvenir for your party faithful's filling the arena. So, not having them speaks volumes to the event preparation and forethought. Now, there was a card STUNT at the end that didn't go smoothly but hey you can't win them all. 

As most of you know, Hillary Clinton gave her acceptance speech on July 28th, my 35th birthday. I sat behind her in 2008 when she gave her concession speech so to be in the crowd the night she finally shattered that glass ceiling was an incredibly powerful moment for me - one that is still incredibly difficult for me to put into words.

Hillary Clinton has been an essential part of my entire political life. She was the First Lady when I first became aware of politicals - largely a bystander like myself. She ran for Senate as I was entering college and pushing my own political beliefs farther. She ran for president and my first job out of law school was working for her campaign.

And now here we are again - she's become the first female nominee of a major political party and I'm running for office myself. On May 17th, I filled in a box next to her name then moved down the ballot and filled in the box next to my own. I'll do it again on November 8th. 

I wasn't sure I would live to see that moment. I certainly wasn't sure it would ever be her. I wasn't sure I would ever run either. 

To get to attend both party conventions was an amazing experience, but to be in that room with her on that day wasn't just historical - it was life affirming. 

Find your Enneagram the EASY way

As I recently shared I've become incredibly interested in the Enneagram Personality Types, there are lots of ways to figure out your Enneagram from short quizzes to books to hiring Enneagram coaches.

However, this week I was listening to one of my favorite podcasts - The Lively Show - and the host Jess Lively was interviewing Leigh Kramer, an Enneagram expert. Leigh was listing the basic types and the healing attitudes that are helpful for each type. Much of what she was sharing I'd heard before but when she shared the healing attitudes it really connected me.

As in, she read the healing attitudes for my number and I started to cry.

So, here's a quick and easy way to figure out your number. Read each of these healing attitudes and see which one feels like a gut punch. I connected with parts of several of them but my number's healing attitude felt like someone was squeezing my heart. 

Type One

The need to be perfect. They struggle with anger and resentment. Their gift is serenity.

Maybe others are right. 
Maybe someone else has a better idea. 
Maybe others will learn for themselves. 
Maybe I've done all that can be done.

Type Two

The need to be needed. They struggle is pride. Their gift is humility

Maybe I could let someone else do this.
Maybe this person is actually already showing me love in their own way. 
Maybe I could do something good for myself, too.

Type Three

The need to succeed. They struggle with deceit. Their gift is honesty.

Maybe I don't have to be the best. 
Maybe people will accept me just the way I am. 
Maybe others' opinions of me aren't so important.

Type Four

The need to be special. They struggle with envy and comparison. Their gift is emotional balance. 

Maybe there's nothing wrong with me. 
Maybe others do understand me and are supporting me. 
Maybe I'm not the only one who feels this way.

Type Five

The need to perceive. They struggle with greed. Their gift is objectivity or nonattachment.

Maybe I can trust people and let them know what I need. 
Maybe I can live happily in the world. 
Maybe my future will be ok.

Type Six

The need for security. They struggle with fear or worry. Their greatest gift is courage.

Maybe this will work out fine. 
Maybe I don't have to foresee every possible problem.
Maybe I can trust myself and my own judgments.

Type Seven

The need to avoid pain. They struggle with gluttony. Their gift is joy.

Maybe what I already have is enough. 
Maybe there's nowhere else I need to be right now. 
Maybe I'm not missing out on anything right now.

Type Eight

The need to be against. Their struggle is lust. Their gift is innocence.

Maybe this person isn't out to take advantage of me.
Maybe I can let down my guard a little more. 
Maybe I could let someone else take the lead.

Type Nine

The need to avoid. Their struggle is laziness. Their gift is decisive action.

Maybe I can make a difference. 
Maybe I need to get energized and be involved. 
Maybe I am more powerful than I realize.

JORD Wood Watches and a Giveaway

I've come around on watches. For a long time, I thought I didn't need one. Then, I found a watch I loved and decided I needed ONE good watch. Then, I branched out even further and found watches can serve all types of functions from productivity to style.

Even once I started wearing stylish watches, it took me far too long to figure out that I couldn't just like the way the watch looked I had to like the way the watch felt.

Enter JORD Wood Watches.

#jordwatch #starttheconversation #woodwatch 🕑 Link in my profile!

A photo posted by Sarah Stewart Holland (@bluegrassred) on Jun 15, 2016 at 11:26am PDT

JORD reached out for collaboration I was immediately excited. First, the watches are gorgeous. Even more important than that, it's HOT and something about a wooden watch seemed preferable to metal in the heat of a Kentucky summer.

I was right. This watch is gorgeous and lightweight and just feels like it breathes.

I also really like the size of the women's watch which feels stylish but not clunky. They also have men's watches if you're still without a Father's Day present!

If you want to check out JORD for yourself, click here to enter a $75 gift card and take a JORD wood watch of your very own. 

Wood Watches by JORD

JORD Wood Watches provided me with a watch in exchange for this review. All opinions are my own. 

Hopeless

I don't feel mad. I don't feel shocked. The numbers don't even affect me anymore 3, 16, 32, 50.

The numbers increase. Nothing changes.

I consider myself an optimistic person. I consider myself a hopeful person. I give people the benefit of the doubt. I find the lessons to be learned. I count two steps forward and one step back as a success. 

But I was 16 when I experienced gun violence firsthand and now every year brings another tragedy. Columbine. Virginia Tech. Sandy Hook. Now a new deadliest shooting in American history. Orlando. 

I feel helpless - even worse - I feel hopeless.

I have to believe we care. I have to believe we want better but nothing ever changes and I'm beginning to believe nothing ever will.

I am THROUGH with swimsuits

Let me ask you this. What have swimsuits ever done for you?

You know what they've done for me? A hot mess of nothing. Even the best ones are ill-fitting, expensive, and downright uncomfortable.

So, you know what?

I'm through. Swimsuits and I are parting ways. A few years ago I adopted a rashguard and it was LIFE. CHANGING. Do you know how much mental energy I spent preventing (often unsuccessfully) sunburns? A lot. Getting the right sunscreen. Applying the right amount of sunscreen. Wearing the sunscreen for the right amount of time. RE-applying sunscreen. Constantly seeking out shade no matter how much sunscreen I had on.

Let's not even talk about the new study that says many sunscreens are a downright lie.

Often, it was all for naught anyway.

There is no sunscreen on God's green earth that can keep me protected in the water for longer than about 15 minutes so snorkeling, swim lessons, or just plain old enjoying the pool were out. 

Add in keeping my three children protected and FORGET IT.

Throwing a rashguard on my kids was amazing and it took me far too long to realize that I could wear one as well.

Still, there were my legs to worry about. I would often just throw a beach towel over my legs if shade couldn't be found but that's hot and uncomfortable.

Speaking of uncomfortable, wearing basically underwear (even if it has a cute skirt) while trying to keep up with three boys is a fool's errand. Add sand in any form or getting in and out boats and let's just say I was constantly pulling and tugging and making sure everything was in its proper place.

ALSO, not to put too fine of a point on it, I am about to turn 35 years old and I am never going to get another bikini wax as long as I live. 

Because I am a grown-ass woman and if that means anything it should mean being able to opt out of someone pouring hot wax on the most sensitive part of your body.

So, I have purchased myself a pair of swim leggings. They are adorable. They are lightweight and comfortable. Paired with one of my rashguards they offer coverage and comfort and sun protection for as long as I want to be outside. 

I am IN LOVE and I am through with swimsuits forever. 

A Weight Lifted

Today I realized for half of 2016 I've carried a pebble of dread in the pit of my stomach.

Since we realized that something was wrong with Felix's arm and decided to consult a pediatric neurologist, the dread has taken different shapes. Dread that it would be some obscure and fatal diagnosis. Dread that he would need an MRI. Dread that something would go terribly wrong during the MRI. Dread that it would be the rare vascular malformation and would need brain surgery.

No matter what shape it took it sat there hard and cold. I'd talk myself down. I'd do more research. I'd talk to a doctor and then another doctor and then another doctor. I began the process with First Steps and got Felix started with occupational therapy. 

I would move the pebble. Smother the pebble. Ignore the pebble. Until there I'd be, holding Felix close and I'd rest my mouth on his head and the weight of that tiny little pebble would feel like a boulder.

What if something happens to my baby?

On the drive to Vanderbilt. As I handed him over to the nurse. As we waited and waited.

I could feel the weight bearing down on me until all I could do was breathe. Just keep breathing.

Then, just like I had told myself they would, the nurse called my phone and said Felix was fine and ready for us in recovery. Picking him up for the first time I felt some of the weight lift. I was so fearful of the MRI I had only allowed myself the smallest space to consider the result. I told myself we would hear what we expected to hear ... but I was prepared to wait days to hear it.

I laid down to take a nap and turned off my phone - not even considering the possibility the hospital would call. When I turned it back on, the pediatric neurologist had left a message. I called her back and she told me it was what they thought. Felix had had a minor stroke either a month before he was born or right after. There was no vascular malformation. He would need the occupational therapy he was already receiving and we didn't even need to go back and see the doctor again.

And just like that the dread I'd been carrying for months was gone. The stress of Felix's diagnosis isn't completely gone. I still worry he'll have trouble walking. I still wonder if there was anything I could have done to prevent what happened. I still watch his right hand constantly for signs of improvement... but the fear? The fear of the unknown. That fear is gone. 

As weird as it is, I realized the MRI got inexplicably linked up with another event this month. For those of you who might not follow me on social media, I won my primary campaign for Paducah City Commission. (YEAH! And THANK YOU for supporting me!)

It feels really stupid to talk about an election in the same post about my baby's stroke, but you know what life isn't neatly compartmentalized and mine is no different. 

Plus, the fear I felt about the election has been another constant companion over the past six months. Yes, I chose this path but it didn't change the stress associated with it. By the end of the campaign, I felt fairly confident that I would make it out of the primary but I had no idea in which order I or any of the other candidates would fall. What if I didn't make it? What if I'd wasted everyone's time? What if I looked foolish?

In a weird way, one scenario constantly distracted me from the other. When I would feel my anxiety over Felix and the MRI begin to rise, I would dive into campaign work. When I would begin to worry about the campaign results, I would remind myself that I had much more important things over which to worry. 

It wasn't until today - with the results of Felix's MRI finally in - that I realized that this year was half over and I'd spent all of it carrying around these tiny pebbles of dread. I'd rubbed them until they'd felt familiar - until I'd accepted their presence as my new reality. This new reality made all the easier because everyone in our lives has been so incredibly supportive and amazing. 

But it was still hard ... and then, just like that, they were all gone.

It was only then that I realized how heavy those pebbles had gotten. That the weight of that dread and fear as a constant companion has taken its toll. That I hadn't been writing as much. That's how I know when I'm really avoiding something. The words don't come.

But tonight I couldn't get the words down fast enough. The pebbles were gone. The words had returned. 

It wasn't until the weight had been lifted that I realized how heavy it had been all along.