Midwest Mimi

  • I Tell the Story. I Make the Meaning.

    Telling my story did not erase what happened to me. It changed my relationship to it. From telling one safe person to eventually writing publicly, I learned that George could be part of my story without being its author.

  • Closure Is Not Always a Conversation

    Closure is not always a conversation, an apology, or a neat ending. Sometimes it is finally saying what you needed to say, accepting that someone you loved also failed you, and learning how to move forward without pretending the hurt did not matter.

  • 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 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…

  • 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…

  • 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…

  • Taking Out the Trash

    We threw out what we didn’t need when we moved. Not just things. People too. It wasn’t dramatic or loud. Just a quiet decision to stop carrying what was making our life heavier, and start building something more peaceful for our family.

  • Grief That Grows

    After eight years of anticipatory grief and the loss of my mother to early onset Alzheimer’s, I learned that grief doesn’t just take who you love—it takes the shape of the world you built around them.

  • TRUTHS I LEARNED THE HARD WAY — PART TWO

    Healing is not speed. Healing is honesty. This is the quiet, slow, lonely kind of recovery that chronic illness and midlife force you to learn. A reflection on rest, boundaries, and becoming someone you no longer abandon.