So, do you remember how I went to Miami a year ago for my brother's wedding and was not super excited about it? I had this image of Florida (and therefore Miami) that it was was nothing but old people with no style wearing big white tennis shoes and fanny packs? And then I went to Miami and fell so totally in love with it and couldn't wait to go back?! Well, thanks to the coronavirus flight sales and an Alaska Airlines companion ticket, J and I are going to Miami on Thursday. WOOHOO!
I cannot wait to spend four whole days lounging on the beach, napping, reading, writing, zoning out, doing nothing, and having conversations that aren't interrupted every 20 seconds. It is going to be bliss. I am forever grateful to Lisa, my sister-in-law of nearly one year exactly, for showing me what a wonderful place Miami is! And a huge shoutout to my mom, who will have Coco and Theo stay with her while we're gone. That is seriously the best! I think it's officially a tradition now, and I hope that I will go to Miami every year at this time of year until I die. I really is the best medicine to be warm, to feel the sun on your face and body, and to get away from it all.
Because I've never been, I also looked at going to Hawaii because there were some serious fare deals there. But in the end, J and I agreed that we wanted to go somewhere with no learning curve and no time wasted getting oriented to our surroundings. We're going back to the same hotel, where we know the beach, the pool and the drill for getting set up; and we love that so much is within walking distance. I'm so excited I can hardly stand it and it still doesn't seem real. Six sleeps 'til Miami. Pinch me!
And, here are some links for your weekend:
A song for you, if you're in a listening to music mood.
I went live this morning on Instagram doing my hair and makeup. Watch it while you can! It's in my stories.
This CBD + Retinol oil is gentle, yet effective. Just mix a few drops with your night cream.
Would you plant a moon garden?
Switzerland has been hit pretty hard with the coronavirus. :(
As a result, the Minister for Home Affairs has urged people to stop kissing. So I'm feeling pretty vindicated for my own criticism of the kisses back in 2012! ;)
If you're looking for some clean beauty here are some recommendations (read this post if you missed it) .
The one Christmas present my kids are still playing with every day!
Enjoy your weekend and I will see you back here soon!
Earlier this week, I watched the documentary Toxic Beauty. This was not the first time I was exposed to information detailing the dangers of ingredients in cosmetics. I have heard all that before! But, it was the first time I felt compelled to scan the labels on all my shampoos, conditioners, dry shampoos, and deodorant. What I was I looking for? Parabens and phthalates. Also of particular worry was any product containing the words talc, and parfum or fragrance in the ingredients.
I heard about Toxic Beauty through a Vogue article whose title includes the film’s main question: Are Skin-Care Products the New Cigarettes? As Jessica L. Yarborough explains in the article, skincare products seem to be positioned to be the next health scandal as cigarettes were in the 20th century. It’s a similar scenario, one in which we have toxicologists and corporations telling us that certain products and ingredients are safe, when in reality, the science of the compound effects of using multiple lotions, skincare and hair care products per day paint a very different picture.
I found it horrifying to learn that the US has not updated cosmetics regulations since 1938 and that 1,300 cosmetic ingredients are banned in Europe while here in the US we only have 11 banned ingredients. Eleven! While it was very upsetting to watch, I highly recommend Toxic Beauty and I feel that it is especially relevant as our bodies and hormones change and become more susceptible to environmental factors as we age.
Do you keep your beauty routine clean? Is it sort of clean, sort of filthy (I’m looking at you beloved Donna Karan deodorant), or do you not pay attention to ingredients at all? I would love to hear your take on this.
(Image via Toxic Beauty)
Wow. We are told they don't count.
Just like that, in a few simple sentences, Maria pinpointed and made crystal clear exactly what I have been feeling for more than five years, but have never been able to fully or accurately articulate. Five years! Maria's words were so poignant and accurate, it made my jaw drop to read them. I re-read her caption several times, nodding my head in disbelief that I had never heard of disenfranchised grief before now. It turns out that disenfranchised grief is very much a thing and that it is the exact thing that has been weighing on me since I returned to the US from Switzerland.
I realize that not everyone experiences re-entry the way I did, but maybe you have. Based on what she wrote in that quick Instagram caption, Maria Latham definitely has. I can understand that from the outside looking in, it may seem genuinely frivolous or irrelevant, like it's not even a thing to those not experiencing it. My friends and family have watched me go through several deep depressions since I returned to the US and they can't even begin to genuinely connect those episodes with the grief and mourning I have been going through over losing Zurich and my life there. I get the feeling that their response to that is along the lines of "well, maybe, but, (add in something more concrete here, like finances or career) is the real problem." And just like that, what they unwittingly do is disenfranchise my grief, and make it not count. The grief of repatriation is very real and it's more than enough all by itself.
Throughout my repatriation journey, I have really struggled with this added dimension of being told, directly or indirectly, that my grief doesn't count. It has been maddeningly disorienting and isolating. As I have grappled with this, I have been able to isolate examples of my disenfranchised grief - times when (hopefully) well-meaning friends or family dismissed my feelings of loss. This has always felt terrible - and terribly significant! - but I have never been able to name it. It is so powerful to be able to name a feeling or phenomenon. Knowing that disenfranchised grief is an actual thing, and that it's what the debilitating feeling I have been experiencing all this time is actually called, makes it seem more accessible and manageable somehow. I'm also genuinely surprised that not one of the coaches, therapists, or healers I have worked with over the past five years has known or used that term.
Repatriating really is a lonely, difficult journey. So it makes sense that disenfranchised grief responses "tend to be more severe than those of death-related losses" doesn't it? How can we begin to process and move on with our grief when we're being told that it isn't even real? Does this concept resonate with you? If it does, please share your experiences in the comments below. And be sure to follow @iwasanexpatwife on Instagram. I always love her thoughtful and insightful posts and I think you will, too.
(Photo via Pinterest/PullCast)
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