Midwest Mimi

  • I Have Lived, and I Still Love My Life

    Some evenings, peace feels like a summer breeze on the porch. My life has not been easy, and I would not choose every hard thing again. But my life is not only the record of what hurt me. It is family, survival, softness, love, and the ordinary wealth of a home I still want to…

  • 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.

  • Simple Living Hits Different When You Did Not Choose Less

    Simple living is beautiful when it is chosen with enough security underneath it. But there is a difference between stepping away from excess and never having enough to begin with. I want a simple life, but I want it chosen, safe, and supported.

  • 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.

  • Not Cosmetic

    A personal essay about illness, poverty, motherhood, Medicaid, medical dismissal, and what happens when visible survival gets mistaken for failure.

  • The Hidden Cost of Simple Things

    A fall in the shower took only a few seconds, but the recovery may take days. This is the hidden cost of chronic illness: simple things are not always simple, and a slower pace does not mean a smaller dream.

  • The Life I Want Is Not Fancy. It Is Safe.

    The life I want is not fancy. It has dirt in it, a modest house, a garden, a porch, woods, pasture, and enough safety for my family to breathe. I am not chasing luxury. I am trying to build stability, space, financial security, and a life where safe is not treated like a luxury.

  • I’m Not Trying to Go Viral. I’m Trying to Build My Way Out.

    I’m Not Trying to Go Viral. I’m Trying to Build My Way Out.

    I am not trying to go viral. I am trying to build my way out. A personal essay about building Midwest Mimi, Sunny Day Farm, books, art, and a future from the margins of chronic illness, poverty, motherhood, and stubborn hope.

  • 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.

  • He Sounded Like Home, Even When Home Was Chaos

    When people say they love Jelly Roll, I know what they mean. But when I say it, I mean something different. I mean his music found me when I was still in the middle of my hustle years, back when survival felt like adrenaline and invincibility. This is not just about fandom. It is about…

  • 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.

  • Building in the Margins

    Some weeks disappear into therapy appointments, paperwork, specialist visits, and whatever decides to break while I am trying to keep up. This is what progress looks like in a high-needs household when you are building a better future in scraps of time and leftover energy.

  • When There’s No Cushion Left

    When you live with no cushion left, one small problem never stays small. A power outage, a broken washer, a missed deposit, and an empty tank can turn an ordinary day into something much heavier.