If you’ve been paying close attention to what you eat—organic, clean, whole—that’s a solid start. But here’s something that doesn’t get nearly enough attention: what you put on your skin matters just as much as what you put on your plate.
This week, we’re diving into something often overlooked in the low-tox lifestyle: personal care products. Most people don’t realize that the skin is more than a barrier. It’s a gateway. Everything you rub, spray, or slather on your body has the potential to get absorbed into your bloodstream, often bypassing your liver entirely. That means those daily-use products like sunscreen, moisturizer, and deodorant deserve more scrutiny than usual.
The reality? Most commercial brands on the shelf are filled with endocrine-disrupting chemicals, petroleum byproducts, and neurotoxic ingredients that can quietly build up in your system over time. Even the ones with natural-sounding names or claims like “dermatologist approved” or “hypoallergenic” often come packed with substances you’d never willingly ingest—but are unknowingly applying to your skin every day.
This week’s feature breaks down three common ingredients I always avoid—avobenzone, petroleum jelly, and aluminum-based deodorants—and what I’ve replaced them with.
Non-Toxic Swap For This Week
We finally swapped out our old laundry stuff for something cleaner. I’ve been looking for an option without the usual harsh ingredients, and this one actually checks all the boxes. No fake scent, no weird chemicals—just works. If you’re also trying to keep things cleaner at home: | |
Blog Spotlights
What You Put on Your Skin Matters More Than You Think
The skin is your body’s largest organ and does much more than keep everything inside. It regulates temperature, supports immune function, and acts as a two-way gateway—meaning what touches your skin doesn’t just stay on the surface. Much of it gets absorbed into your bloodstream, bypassing your liver and entering systemic circulation. That’s why what you apply daily—lotions, sunscreens, deodorants—deserves the same scrutiny you give your food. The truth is…
Why You Should Think Twice Before Eating Strawberries
Strawberries are often seen as the golden child of healthy snacking—sweet, juicy, and packed with antioxidants. They top smoothie bowls, fill lunchboxes, and appear on nearly every “superfood” list. But if you’re buying conventional strawberries—or even many organic ones—you might expose yourself to…
Time to Ditch Toxic Parchment and Wax Paper for Good
Most of us grab parchment or wax paper in the kitchen without thinking twice. It’s convenient, it’s cheap, and it feels like a harmless staple we grew up with. But here’s the truth…
The Hidden Danger in Your Potatoes
Potatoes are one of the most consumed vegetables in the world, and for good reason. They’re affordable, versatile, filling, and a comfort food staple for many families. From baked potatoes to fries to mashed potatoes at the dinner table, it’s easy to overlook the possibility that something so familiar could come with a serious health risk. But here’s the deal: not all potatoes are safe to eat…
Non-Toxic Tip of the Week
Upgrade Your Laundry Routine: Ditch Synthetic Fragrance
One of the most overlooked sources of daily toxin exposure hides in your closet: your clothes. Most conventional laundry detergents, dryer sheets, and fabric softeners are loaded with synthetic fragrances, which can contain hundreds of undisclosed chemicals, many of them known endocrine disruptors and respiratory irritants.
These chemicals don’t just rinse away. They cling to your clothes, exposing your skin and lungs 24/7.
👉 This week, take one easy step toward a cleaner routine: switch to a fragrance-free or naturally scented detergent made with plant-based ingredients, and skip the dryer sheets entirely. If you want that fresh scent, add a few drops of essential oil to wool dryer balls.
Cleaner clothes = cleaner skin, cleaner air, and a healthier home environment.
My Go-to Favorite Non-Toxic Detergent
We’ve been using something new for laundry—and I’m actually impressed. No fake fragrances, no sketchy ingredients. Just clean clothes and peace of mind. Worth checking out if you’re trying to keep toxins out of the house. | |
Non-Toxic Recipe of the Week
DIY Skin Shield Balm: A Non-Toxic Essential for Every Home
Beyond petroleum, many “healing” balms contain synthetic fragrances (a catch-all term for dozens or hundreds of undisclosed chemicals), preservatives like parabens, and emulsifiers that disrupt the skin microbiome. If you’re working toward reducing your toxic load, the cumulative effect of daily skin exposure matters. And so does having an option you can reach for confidently when someone in your house needs skin support.
This balm is everything I want in a multipurpose skin salve—simple, functional, and packed with whole ingredients that do more than just sit on the surface. It’s safe for a baby, strong enough for a cracked knuckle, and versatile enough to use from head to toe. Let’s take a look at the ingredients.
This Week on Social Media, I talked about:
That’s a wrap for this week, friends. Just a reminder that the little things you do—reading a label, swapping out one product, asking questions about what’s actually in the stuff we use every day—they do matter. These choices might seem small, but they build on each other. Over time, they add up to a healthier lifestyle for you and the people around you.
*Not what you're looking for? Go to the HTML version for the fancy stuff and content. OR: I need to ask you something.. How tightly are you holding on? Now don’t just answer with your mind. Feel it. Feel the grip inside of you, the tension, the way your heart clings to things, the way your mind grabs at control. I’m asking because this story is about letting go. Not in theory—not as some idea to think about. But as something to do. Right now. Let me explain. There was a man who lived his life as if he were holding on to a rope. The rope was long and frayed, tied to all the things he thought he needed to survive. He gripped it with both hands and held on for dear life. He thought that if he let go, he would fall into an abyss. He didn’t know exactly what was down there, but he knew it would be bad. He’d lose everything—his family, his job, his sense of self. Without the rope, he was certain, he would be nothing. But holding the rope was exhausting. It burned his palms and cut into his fingers. Sometimes it felt like the rope pulled him in different directions at once—one end tied to his need for people to like him, the other to his fear of failure. Sometimes the tension on the rope was unbearable, but still, he held on. Because to let go? That was unthinkable. One day, the man met an old woman sitting on a bench in a park. She had a peaceful glow about her, as if she carried no burdens at all. The man was jealous of her ease. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that way. “How are you so calm?” he asked her. The woman looked at him and smiled. “I let go of the rope,” she said simply. The man frowned. “What rope?” “The one you’re holding,” she said. “You can’t see it, but you can feel it, can’t you? That tightness inside of you. That fear that if you let go, you’ll lose everything. But the truth is, the rope isn’t saving you. It’s strangling you.” The man was quiet for a long time. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know how to imagine a life without holding on to the rope. “But if I let go,” he said finally, “won’t I fall?” The woman’s smile deepened. “That’s what you think,” she said. “But the only thing you’ll fall into is freedom.” The man didn’t believe her, of course. How could he? Letting go went against everything he’d been taught. He’d spent his whole life being told that survival depended on holding on—holding on to people, to possessions, to control. Letting go felt like giving up. It felt like failure. So I ask you again: How tightly are you holding on? Can you feel the tension in your chest, the grip in your heart? And more importantly, can you let it go? You don’t have to do it all at once. Just open your hands a little. Just loosen the grip. And when you do, you’ll find that you’re not falling. You’re floating. You’re free. Let go of the rope. Trust me. You don’t need it. The Labyrinth of Light The dome was a living sun. Its translucent panels, segmented like a beetle’s shell, refracted the noonday radiance into a thousand glittering shards, each shard sliding and shimmering along the smooth, white walls below. Everything gleamed with antiseptic brightness, unmarred by the stains of weather, time, or emotion. This was Aurorium, the City of Light. It had no shadows, and, officially, no doubts. Here, under the ever-shining dome, humanity had left behind its fumbling uncertainties, its endless agonies of self-questioning. Gone were the abstract struggles of philosophers and the ceaseless murmur of poets. In their place stood the Ministry of Illumination, with its shining creed: “Meaning is not found—it is assigned. Meaning is not sought—it is delivered.” At the Ministry, every citizen was given their Lumen Pathway by the time they reached their eighteenth year. The system was flawless, or so the Ministry claimed. Each person’s psychometric profile was carefully analyzed; their neural maps scanned and cross-checked against the Collective Consciousness Index. By the end of the process, the result was inevitable: a tailored life-purpose, as precise as the color of one’s irises or the number of lines on one’s fingerprints. And yet, here was Elias. Elias Lorne, Citizen #71184-17, stood at the base of the Ministry’s grand atrium, staring at his Lumen Certificate. The holographic display shimmered faintly in the sterile air, the words inscribed in perfect golden light: "Your purpose is to tend the Reservoirs of Radiance." The Reservoirs. He had heard of them—a vast network of subterranean pools where the city’s refractive crystals were immersed and cleansed, their radiance replenished to ensure the eternal glow of Aurorium. It was honorable work, no doubt, necessary for the city’s unbroken illumination. And yet, as he stood there, holding his future in his hands, something in Elias’s chest remained unmoved. “Is this all there is?” he murmured under his breath. Behind him, a low hum of activity filled the atrium. Young citizens, fresh from their assignments, buzzed with nervous energy. Some smiled, others wept with joy at the clarity of their destinies. A girl beside him held her certificate like a talisman, her voice trembling as she whispered, “I’ll be a Vision Architect!” Another boy punched the air triumphantly, announcing to no one in particular, “Harmonic Technician. Exactly what I wanted!” Elias’s fingers tightened around the edge of the hologram. It wasn’t that he objected to the assignment—not exactly. He understood the necessity of the work. But somewhere deep in the cavernous recess of his mind, a quiet question flickered like a match held too close to the wind: Wasn’t there something more? The next morning, Elias descended into the Reservoirs. “Dangerous?” “Restlessness is a crack,” Mara said. “And cracks are where the darkness seeps in.” Elias hesitated. Then, without meaning to, he said: “Do you ever feel like there’s something missing?” For a long moment, Mara was silent. Then, to Elias’s surprise, she smiled. “Come with me,” she said. That night, Mara led Elias to a hidden passage at the edge of the Reservoirs. The corridor was narrow and dim, its walls streaked with stains of rust. At the end of the tunnel was a door, heavy and ancient, unlike anything Elias had seen in Aurorium. Mara pushed it open. Inside was darkness. Not the faint, shimmering darkness of the city’s shadowless corners, but a true, unbroken blackness that swallowed light whole. For a moment, Elias was overwhelmed by it. The silence was absolute, the void pressing against his skin like a living thing. “What is this place?” he whispered. Mara’s voice was quiet, reverent. “This is where the light comes from.” Elias frowned. “What do you mean? The light comes from the crystals.” Mara shook her head. “The crystals only reflect it. But the source—the true source—is here. In the dark.” She gestured toward the center of the room. There, faintly visible, was a single point of light, no larger than a grain of sand. It pulsed softly, irregularly, like the heartbeat of some distant, unseen creature. “The Ministry doesn’t talk about this,” Mara continued. “They want people to believe the light is infinite, self-sustaining. But it’s not. It comes from here. And it’s fragile.” Elias stared at the tiny light, his chest tightening. “Why are you showing me this?” “Because you’re asking questions,” Mara said simply. “And questions can’t be answered in the light. Not the real ones.” In the weeks that followed, Elias found himself drawn back to the dark room. He spent hours staring at the tiny light, his thoughts unraveling in its faint glow. What was it about the darkness, he wondered, that made the light seem so alive? In the Reservoirs, surrounded by radiance, the light had felt hollow, artificial. But here, cradled in shadow, it was different—fragile, imperfect, and undeniably real. Perhaps, Elias thought, meaning wasn’t something the Ministry could assign after all. Perhaps it wasn’t something that could be given at all. Perhaps meaning had to be carved out of the dark.
