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.

  • A Small Life Is Not the Same Thing as a Meaningless One

    A life can become smaller in radius without becoming smaller in meaning. Disability, limited stamina, and money have changed the life I once imagined, but they have not taken away the people, stories, faith, beauty, and ordinary moments that make it full.

  • The Chair Theory

    What if fitting in has less to do with changing yourself and more to do with finding where you belong? The Chair Theory offers a simple way to think about friendship, self-acceptance, and learning when it is okay to find another table.

  • They Call Me Strong Because They Do Not Want to Call Me Unpaid Labor

    People call mothers like me strong, but sometimes strong is simply the word used when no one wants to say unsupported, overworked, or unpaid. Family caregiving is love, but it is also labor. When systems depend on mothers to coordinate therapies, equipment, accommodations, transportation, and safety, praising our strength does not make the work disappear.…

  • Help Has a Voicemail

    I have a list on my phone that looks like it should belong to someone who works for a human services agency. Except I do not. I am the mother. Before disabled families receive help, there is another job no one talks about: finding the help. It is a full-time, unpaid, invisible job filled with…

  • Survival Is Not the Same as Safety: What We Forget When We Praise Strong Children

    When we praise children for being strong, we do not always ask what made them need that strength so young. Reading Demon Copperhead made me think about my daughter Rae, about the burned pot of macaroni and cheese she tried to make for her brother, and about the difference between a child being resilient and…

  • She Learned to Work Before the World Called It Work

    Rae learned to work before the world called it work. At twelve, she cleaned my brother’s shop office for real money, real expectations, and a little freedom of her own. I am proud of the confidence work gave her. I also grieve that money had to matter so young.

  • When Boredom Starts Looking Like Trouble

    Some minds do not do well with empty space. When there is no risk, no complexity, and no fire to put out, boredom can start looking like trouble. I am learning now that I do not need to kill the part of me that needs complexity. I need to stop feeding it poison. I need…

  • I Am Not Less Autistic Because I Learned How to Live

    I am not less autistic because I have learned how to manage myself. I am not less autistic because I can stay calm in a crisis, build recovery days into my life, or recognize my limits before I break down. I have just been paying attention.

  • What the Calendar Couldn’t Hold

    June was full of appointments, reschedules, travel, surgery recovery, and work. I needed the calendar, the reminders, and the map. But the best parts of the month happened in the margins: porch conversations, toddler hugs, family dinners, chalk on the sidewalk, and ordinary beauty I almost missed.

  • I Am the Calendar, the Case Manager, and the Backup Plan

    Caregiving is not just loving people. It is logistics, memory, paperwork, appointments, refills, therapies, bills, and backup plans. I am grateful I can carry the map for my family, but I am also tired from doing it inside a body that needs care too.