Today I woke up early, after a restless night. I got up and did some laundry, then laid in bed a little er. Then I went to work, an hour drive there and 8 in a chair. It was stressful with noise everywhere and screams and codes blaring, phones ringing never stopping. I'm so tired. An hour home and not even through the door. Oh I have no money for food tomorrow, and the cupboards are bare, the fridge holds only condiments and a still frozen pork loin. I don't like cooking fancy dinners on nights I work, and pork loin is one of my fanciest and most exhausting, but I can't not eat for an entire day, so fine, I'll cook it.

"Don't you leave any dirty dishes in there!" Bellows my unemployed mother whom also has fibromyalgia and arthritis the same as me, whom eats the food I cook, then bitches about dishes. Dinner's half made and I already feel it. My ankles and knees are swelling and angry, syncing up to the burning pain in my neck and shoulders that never stops. My back muscles start spasming, my feet are locked up my toes painfully contorted. It's fine, whatever, I can do dishes on top of finishing this highly exhaustive dinner that I still need to pack for work tomorrow. it hurts so bad.

Finally finished I half drag myself towards the basement 'apartment' I rent, with no kitchen of my own, next to the laundry pile of four disabled people. "And if you don't clean the laundry room I'm throwing everything down there away!" Hollers my mother, between angry facebook posts that has been her only activity for weeks. I groan and slide down the stairs, my body quickly becoming incapable of movement. I reach the bottom and the tears overflow. It hurts so bad. My back and neck feel like 40 lashes done with blades in the whip. My knees are red and twice their , and my toes are still twisted in an agonizing pose. I move to collapse on my bed, I can't even bring myself to look at the pile of laundry or the trash that needs taken out or the carpet which hasn't been vacuumed in a month or the dust quickly coating my gs, and I see it, my bed covered in the empty boxes I left next to it as they piled up, because I just don't have the energy to break them down and take them out to the recycling. A note on my bed from my mother.

"Why are you such a damn slob?"

I collapse next to the pile, sobbing in agony and misery.

And tomorrow I will repeat it again.