She can't remember her own name. She was also so damn stubborn and independent, but also this family just couldn't afford to, or want to, put her in a home even if we could. She sleeps all day every day, and has been hiding her pills, including for hypothyroidism.

I feel like I'm living in a tomb. The latest solution has been me putting posters up on the wall to make this place feel more "me", but it's so hard to see the person I used to know as a shell of who they were.

I don't have to do most of the heavy work, mom does that for me -- including cleaning after grandmom because she doesn't notice how she's soiling her own bedsheets.

I hate it here.