Midwest Mimi

  • 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.

  • 11 Things That Help When My Body Is Done

    Some days my body is just done. Not one thing. Not just pain. All of it. These are the small, real things that actually help me get through.

  • I Haven’t Had a Good Day in a While

    I haven’t had a good day in a while. Not because I stopped trying, but because my body hasn’t caught up. This is what it looks like to keep showing up when even small things hurt.

  • 🌿 We Tried to Fix a Rut With a Grill

    We had been in a rut. Not eating together. Not spending time together. So we tried to fix it with a simple plan to grill dinner. It didn’t go the way we expected. But somehow, it still gave us what we needed.

  • The Survivable Option

    When you are poor, calling for help is never just about help. It is about what follows. In a crisis, parenting becomes a calculation between different kinds of risk. This is the story of the day I chose what looked indefensible from the outside and necessary from the inside.

  • Choosing Humanity When the World Feels Unsafe

    Living in the United States right now feels quietly unsafe. From inside my family, I’m watching how fear, detention, and deportation ripple outward, affecting not just individuals but entire families, including children. This is a reflection on dignity, accountability, and choosing humanity even when systems do not.

  • 3 Gentle Ways to Get Nature Exposure in Winter When You Can’t Tolerate the Cold

    Winter can be a hard season when you live with chronic illness. These are three gentle ways to stay connected to nature during cold months, without forcing your body into pain.

  • The Life I Wanted Didn’t Die. It Changed Shape.

    I thought I knew what my life would look like. A degree. A career. Stability. Security. A future I could count on. Then I got sick. What followed wasn’t just the loss of health, but the slow grief of watching the life I planned slip out of reach. Almost dying forced a reckoning. I couldn’t…

  • I Am Not Lazy. I Am Regulating.

    From the outside, my life probably looks lazy. But what looks like laziness is actually regulation. Rest, pacing, and adaptation are not failures. They are how I survive chronic illness and continue showing up for my family and myself.

  • The Day I Stopped Explaining Myself

    After nearly dying from respiratory failure, I stopped explaining myself. Living with chronic illness taught me that understanding is not something you can force, and survival does not require justification. This is the story of choosing boundaries, rest, and presence over being understood.