Midwest Mimi

  • The Blank Page Problem

    Sometimes creative block does not mean we have run out of ideas. Sometimes we just need a frame, a scene, a shape, or something already on the page to give us somewhere to begin.

  • This Wasn’t the Life I Planned. Midwest Mimi Is What I Made From It.

    I thought Midwest Mimi would be a blog about chronic illness, homeschooling, and nature. After 132 posts, I realized it had become something larger: a place to make meaning, find language for difficult experiences, and help readers feel seen.

  • I Don’t Think Everything Happens for a Reason

    People often say everything happens for a reason, but I do not believe every wound was chosen by God. I believe we live in a broken world, and that God can still meet us in the aftermath, restore what was lost, and help something good grow from what never should have happened.

  • I Still Want More

    I am happy with my life, but that does not mean I have stopped wanting more. I still want better health, more money, a home of our own, more freedom, and a bigger writing career. Contentment is not the absence of ambition. Sometimes it is simply learning to enjoy the breeze while you keep building…

  • Being Easy to Entertain Might Be My Greatest Life Skill

    Curiosity has helped keep my world big even when chronic illness has made my life physically smaller. Books, art, research, writing, family, and even something as simple as watching my son blow the seeds from a dandelion remind me there is always more to notice, learn, and wonder about.

  • My Life Is Material. My Family Is Not Content.

    I write from real life because that is how I process what I have lived. But not every true thing belongs online. My family may appear in my work, but they are not the product. Their dignity comes first.

  • Some Work Is Meant to Be Tended, Not Posted

    I almost posted a children’s story inspired by my mother. Then I realized it was not a blog post. It was a seed. A reflection on creativity, legacy work, poverty, patience, and learning when to share the work and when to let it grow.

  • I Am Learning to Build Without Burning Myself Down

    The old me knew how to hustle, but hustle taught me to measure everything by immediate payout. Now I am learning a different kind of discipline: building a life my body can sustain. One that makes room for chronic illness, family, rest, creative purpose, and the stubborn return to the work that still matters.

  • I Promised My Grandma I’d Be the One

    Printing the first draft of my middle-grade book made me realize I am closer than I thought to keeping an old promise. What started as 20,600 words on a screen became a stack of pages in my hands, carrying my grandma’s hope, my mom’s absence, my dad’s bedtime chapters, my daughter’s childhood words, and the…

  • The Bandwidth of Peace

    A rainy spring morning, a numb hand, an unfinished book-tree drawing, and a list of “analog hobbies” got me thinking about disability, creativity, and accommodations. There is no prize for making the process harder. The prize is the peace we feel while making something.

  • The Life I’m Writing Into Existence

    I don’t have the money to build the life I want yet… so I’m writing it first. This is the story of how I’m creating a safer, slower, more intentional life for my family—starting with imagination and turning it into something real.

  • What I Keep Doing Even When Nothing Feels New

    Winter can feel long and heavy. A reflection on endurance, writing, community, and what it means to keep showing up even when nothing feels new.

  • Consistency Doesn’t Mean Constant

    used to believe consistency meant constant motion. Getting sick forced me to learn a different truth: returning matters more than pace, and slow progress still adds up.

  • Rest Didn’t Change Me. It Revealed Me.

    rest and identity, slow living, chronic illness perspective, neurodivergent life, creative identity, writing as healing, redefining success, presence over productivity, motherhood and rest, living gently, Midwest Mimi, finding clarity

  • Letting Go of Good Mom Guilt

    For a long time, being a “good mom” meant juggling everything. This is a gentle reflection on energy, limits, and what letting go of good mom guilt looked like for me.