Invisible Illness on the Clock: Surviving Amazon Overnight Shifts

Working at Amazon With Multiple Sclerosis: My Real-Life Story of MS, Fibromyalgia, and Almost Two Years in a Warehouse

I started working at Amazon on December 3, 2024.

At the time, I don’t think I fully understood what the next year and a half was going to look like.

I was starting as a part-time, seasonal employee, working overnight. I had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis (MS) in 2020, and I also live with fibromyalgia. I already knew what it meant to live with chronic pain and fatigue, but knowing your body and actually putting that body through a physically demanding warehouse job are two very different things.

Almost two years later, I have learned a lot.

I’ve learned about my body.

I’ve learned about my limits.

I’ve learned how much I can push myself.

I’ve learned that sometimes I can push too far.

I’ve learned about Amazon’s productivity expectations, rate, coachings, write-ups, managers, robots, coworkers, friendships, warehouse politics, overtime, and the strange little world that exists inside a warehouse.

Most importantly, I’ve learned something I wish more people with multiple sclerosis knew:

“Having MS does not automatically mean you cannot work. But working with MS can require a completely different level of planning, recovery, adaptation, and determination than other people may ever see.”

And sometimes, simply getting through the shift is an accomplishment nobody knows about.

Starting At Amazon As A Seasonal Employee

When I started Amazon, I was part-time and seasonal.

I wasn’t walking into the building thinking, “I’m going to become an Amazon veteran.”

I was just working.

I started on nights, and eventually I spent about two months on day shift. After those two months, I returned to nights and stayed on the overnight schedule for the majority of my time at Amazon.

There were a lot of reasons I ended up preferring nights.

I don’t like being on the day shift. I don’t like being out in the sun after working nights, and over time I built relationships with people on the overnight shift. I had friends there. I knew people. I knew how things worked.

There was also the night differential.

That extra money matters when you’re supporting a household and raising two kids.

So nights became more than just a schedule.

They became my normal.

Over time, the people on nights became part of what made Amazon feel familiar. I knew who I would see when I walked in. I knew who I could joke with. I knew who I could talk shit with. I knew the personalities, the departments, the routines, and the unwritten rules.

When you’re living with a chronic illness, having some predictability in an unpredictable life can matter more than people realize.

From Seasonal To Blue Badge

One of the biggest parts of my Amazon journey was simply trying to establish myself there.

I spent roughly “one year and seven months”  in that seasonal/temporary chapter before finally becoming a blue badge employee.

That is a long time to live with the uncertainty of not knowing exactly what the future of your job is going to look like.

For someone living with a chronic illness, that uncertainty can feel even heavier.

When your body already requires medical care, medication, appointments, rest, and recovery, having your employment feel uncertain adds another layer of stress.

But I kept showing up.

I kept learning.

I kept working.

I kept figuring out how to get through the building and through my shifts while living with MS and fibromyalgia.

And eventually, I got my blue badge.

It wasn’t just a piece of plastic.

For me, it represented everything that happened before it.

It represented all the shifts I showed up for when my body hurt.

It represented the nights I was exhausted before I even walked through the doors.

It represented learning a job while also learning how my body responded to that job.

It represented almost two years of figuring out how to keep going.

Becoming a blue badge didn’t magically make the job easier.

But it did feel like finally reaching a point I had spent a long time trying to reach.

What Warehouse Work Actually Feels Like With MS

Amazon warehouse work isn’t sitting behind a desk.

I’m lifting boxes.

I’m walking.

I’m standing for hours.

I’m wearing steel-toed shoes.

I’m working on concrete.

I’m sweating.

I’m moving constantly.

And then I go home and my body has to somehow recover enough for me to do it again.

For someone who doesn’t live with chronic pain, it can be easy to look at a warehouse worker and think:

“It’s just a job. You work your shift and go home.”

But my body doesn’t simply reset when I clock out.

Sometimes the pain really starts to catch up with me after I leave.

I get home exhausted, shower, take care of what I need to take care of, make multiple trips to the bathroom, and finally get into bed.

And then there is still life waiting for me.

I have two kids.

There are school schedules, drop-offs, pickups, practices, appointments, paperwork, groceries, household responsibilities, and everything else that comes with being a parent.

So my recovery time isn’t always actually recovery time.

That’s one of the hardest things to explain about working with a chronic illness.

The workday may technically end when I clock out.

But physically, it doesn’t always end there.

Sometimes the shift follows me home.

The Armor I Wear At Work

One of the biggest things I’ve learned about working with MS is how much people can fail to see.

At work, I can look fine.

I can joke.

I can talk shit with my coworkers.

I can laugh.

I can have an attitude.

I can get irritated.

I can make rate.

I can keep moving.

And people may assume that means I’m okay.

It doesn’t.

I’ve described it as “wearing armor”.

I put on my armor and go to work.

Sometimes I’m hurting before I even clock in.

Sometimes I’m exhausted.

Sometimes my body feels like it has already had enough.

But the job doesn’t stop because I hurt.

And bills don’t stop because I hurt.

And my kids don’t stop needing me because I hurt.

So I go.

That doesn’t mean I’m invincible.

It means I’m doing what I have to do.

The people around me don’t necessarily see what happens after I leave.

They see Lynn Rose at work.

They see me joking around.

They see me being loud.

They see me getting irritated over something stupid.

They see me doing my job.

They don’t necessarily see me going home afterward and feeling like my body has been through something completely different from what they saw.

They don’t see the recovery.

They don’t see the exhaustion.

They don’t see the calculations I make throughout the shift.

They don’t see how much energy I have left.

They don’t see what it took to make it through.

“That’s what invisible illness can look like.”

Sometimes it looks completely normal from the outside.

The Mental Work Nobody Sees

MS isn’t only about physical symptoms.

There’s also the mental exhaustion that comes with constantly having to think about your body.

How much energy do I have today?

How bad is the pain?

How long can I keep going?

Did I take my medication?

Do I have a doctor’s appointment?

Can I make it through this shift?

How am I going to sleep afterward?

How am I going to get my kids where they need to be?

And what happens if my body decides it isn’t cooperating today?

That constant mental calculation can be exhausting all by itself.

Sometimes I don’t need somebody to tell me to “push through.”

I’m already pushing through.

There are times when I am doing math in my head that has nothing to do with numbers on a screen.

I’m calculating energy.

I’m calculating pain.

I’m calculating sleep.

I’m calculating how much I can physically do tonight and how much it might cost me tomorrow.

That is part of working with a chronic illness that people don’t necessarily see.

You can be standing next to somebody having a completely normal conversation while your brain is quietly calculating whether your body is going to make it through the next several hours.

Amazon Rate, Coachings, and Write-Ups

One of the hardest parts of warehouse work for me has been productivity expectations.

Amazon has rates.

You have numbers you’re expected to hit.

And when your numbers aren’t where they need to be, management notices.

I’ve had coachings.

Eventually, I received my first write-up for rate.

That was frustrating because there are days when the work itself makes rate much harder.

If you’re getting small, slow-moving items or freight that doesn’t flow well, your numbers can suffer even when you’re working.

I’ve literally looked at the work and thought:

“How exactly do you expect me to make rate with this?”

I’ve had conversations with management about it.

And that is another reality of working with a chronic illness:

Sometimes you have to advocate for yourself while simultaneously trying not to look like you’re making excuses.

I don’t want special treatment.

I want people to understand that there is a difference between being unwilling to work and having a body that has limitations.

Those are not the same thing.

There is also a reality that I had to learn for myself:

My ability to perform isn’t exactly the same thing as my body’s ability to sustain that performance.

I may be able to make a number one day.

That doesn’t automatically mean I can physically do the same thing five days in a row.

And that difference matters.

The Robots & UIS

When the Solution Creates Another Problem

Then there are the robots.

UIS can be a completely different experience.

I’ve learned that I can make rate in UIS.

The problem?

My body doesn’t necessarily love it.

The work can be physically brutal in a different way, especially during long shifts.

And UIS requires working with a partner, which adds another layer.

You can’t simply decide, “I’m going to go over there today.”

There are schedules, training, partners, and staffing.

So even when something technically solves one problem — like rate — it can create another problem physically.

UIS has taught me something important:

“Sometimes the place where I can perform best on paper is not necessarily the place where my body functions best.”

I can make the rate there.

That doesn’t mean I can necessarily sustain the physical demands of that work every single day.

And that’s a problem that people with chronic illness understand very well.

Sometimes the thing that looks like the solution on paper isn’t actually the solution for your body.

The challenge is finding the balance between:

What can I do?

and

“What can I keep doing without completely destroying myself afterward?”

Learning the Difference Between “I Can” and “I Should”

This is probably one of the hardest lessons I’ve learned.

There are things I can do that I probably shouldn’t do repeatedly.

I can work a long shift.

I can pick up overtime.

I can push through pain.

I can work in physically demanding areas.

I can stay moving when my body is telling me to stop.

I’ve proven that I can do those things.

But proving that I “can” do something doesn’t mean it is always smart for me to keep doing it.

That distinction is difficult when you have responsibilities.

Sometimes I need the money.

Sometimes I need the hours.

Sometimes I don’t have the option of simply saying, “My body hurts, so I’m staying home.”

So I’ve had to learn to pay attention to the difference between pushing myself and pushing myself too far.

I’m still learning it.

I don’t always get it right.

Sometimes I push too hard because I have goals.

Sometimes I push too hard because I have bills.

Sometimes I push too hard because I’m a mother and people are depending on me.

And sometimes I have to accept that my body has a limit whether I like that limit or not.

That has been one of the hardest parts of learning how to work with MS.

The People Make A Huge Difference

One of the best parts of Amazon has been the people.

I’ve made friends.

I’ve met people I genuinely enjoy working with.

I’ve found people who understand my personality and can handle me exactly as I am.

And yes, I have an attitude.

I’m blunt.

I’m not always quiet.

I’m not going to sugarcoat everything.

I joke around.

I talk shit.

I can be difficult.

But I’ve also found people who know that’s just me.

The warehouse environment has its own social world.

There are cliques.

There is gossip.

There are rumors.

There are people who get along and people who absolutely do not.

There are friendships that make a ten-hour shift easier.

And there are days when the people around you are one of the only reasons you make it through the night.

That’s something I didn’t expect when I started Amazon.

The job isn’t only boxes and rates.

It’s people.

Sometimes having somebody make you laugh when you’re exhausted is enough to change the entire night.

Sometimes having somebody who understands your personality means you don’t have to spend energy pretending to be somebody you’re not.

Sometimes the people around you become part of the reason you keep coming back.

Management Isn’t Always Easy

I’ve had good interactions with management and frustrating ones.

I’ve had managers recognize that I can make rate in certain departments.

I’ve had conversations about where I work best.

I’ve had to explain why something physically works for me one day but may not work for me every day.

And I’ve had to deal with the reality that management is looking at numbers while I’m living inside the body producing those numbers.

That difference matters.

A manager sees a rate.

I feel the pain behind that rate.

A manager sees an attendance point.

I know what happened to my body that day.

A manager sees that I’m struggling in a department.

I know whether I’m struggling because I don’t know the work or because my body is reaching its limit.

Learning to communicate that has been part of my Amazon education.

I’ve had to learn how to advocate for myself without expecting everyone around me to automatically understand what I’m experiencing.

That’s not always easy.

Overtime: Because Sometimes “Extra” Isn’t Extra

Overtime has become a major part of my Amazon experience.

I’ve worked long shifts.

I’ve worked mandatory overtime.

I’ve considered and worked additional hours because I need the money.

Sometimes I’m already exhausted and I still look at the possibility of overtime because I have goals.

I want my own place.

I want stability for my kids.

I want to be able to breathe financially.

So overtime isn’t simply:

“Hey, I want some extra spending money.”

Sometimes overtime means trying to change my circumstances.

But there is a price.

My body pays for those extra hours.

An eleven-hour day isn’t just eleven hours at work.

It’s the recovery afterward.

It’s the sleep I’m losing.

It’s the pain I’m carrying.

It’s the next day.

It’s figuring out how to function as a mother when I’m running on fumes.

That is something people don’t always understand about overtime when you have a chronic illness.

The paycheck only shows you what you earned.

It doesn’t show you what your body spent.

Being A Mother & Working Nights With MS

Working nights while raising two children creates a completely different kind of exhaustion.

There have been periods where I work into the early morning, get home, shower, and barely get enough time to sleep before I have to get my kids ready.

There have been mornings when I have had to wake up around 6:30 after working overnight.

School drop-offs can be around 6:50 and 8:00.

Then I try to sleep again for a few hours.

I then wake up before noon, start cooking dinner and cleaning while getting myself ready for work.

Then there are pickups.

One child might need to be picked up around 2:30.

The other around 3:20.

Then there are practices, appointments, errands and everything else.

That’s not a normal sleep schedule.

And MS doesn’t care that I have responsibilities.

My body doesn’t say:

“Don’t worry, Ashley, you have kids today, so we’ll make sure you feel great.”

It doesn’t work that way.

Being a mother means there are things that still have to happen even when I’m exhausted.

The kids still need rides.

They still need food.

They still need school supplies.

They still need somebody to show up.

So sometimes I have to figure out how to be a mother while running on an amount of energy that feels completely inadequate.

That doesn’t mean I am failing.

It means I’m doing two demanding things at once:

“working a physically demanding overnight job and raising two children while living with chronic illness.”

Eating, Medication, Recovery, & Everything Outside The Building

Food is another challenge.

There have been times when I barely eat because I’m exhausted, don’t have much appetite, or simply don’t have the time or energy to deal with food.

When you’re working a long overnight shift, eating can become another task you have to force yourself to complete.

I’ve tried to make it easier by preparing food ahead of time.

I’ve also started making my own protein shakes instead of buying smoothies before work.

I use oat milk, protein powder, oatmeal, peanut butter, cocoa powder, and a little ice.

It’s cheaper than constantly buying smoothies, and it gives me something I can actually get down when eating a full meal feels like too much.

Living with MS has taught me that taking care of yourself isn’t always glamorous.

Sometimes it’s literally remembering to eat something before you spend ten hours moving boxes.

It also means keeping up with medication, medical appointments, and everything else that comes with managing a chronic condition.

And sometimes that care is difficult to fit into a life where work and family already take so much of your time and energy.

Taking care of myself is not something that happens in a separate part of my life.

It has to happen somewhere between work, sleep, my kids, errands, appointments, and everything else.

When Illness & Work Collide

There have also been times when my health has simply won.

I’ve had periods of severe symptoms, exhaustion, pain, and medical problems where going to work wasn’t realistic.

There have been days I’ve missed work.

There have been times when I have been so overwhelmed physically and emotionally that I couldn’t simply pretend everything was fine.

One thing chronic illness teaches you is that sometimes your body makes the decision for you.

And that can be scary when your paycheck matters.

Missing work because you are sick isn’t the same thing as not caring about your job.

Sometimes your body has reached a point where you physically cannot keep pretending.

That can be frustrating because I know what I am capable of on a good day.

I know the worker I can be when my body cooperates.

So when my body doesn’t cooperate, it can feel like I’m being forced to confront a limitation I don’t want.

But that’s part of chronic illness.

Some days my body lets me do more.

Some days it doesn’t.

The Reality Of Invisible Illness

One of the hardest things about chronic illness is that people often judge you based on the version of you they see.

If I worked ten hours yesterday, someone might assume I can work ten hours today.

If I made rate yesterday, someone might assume I can make the same rate tomorrow.

If I was laughing and joking at work, someone might assume I wasn’t in pain.

If I look fine, someone might assume I feel fine.

But chronic illness doesn’t work like that.

My ability can change.

My symptoms can change.

My energy can change.

And sometimes the difference between a good day and a bad day isn’t visible to anyone else.

That’s why I have learned that I cannot always measure my health by how I look from the outside.

What I Wish People Understood About Working With MS

If you have multiple sclerosis and you’re thinking about working, I want you to know something:

“You are not automatically incapable of having a career.”

You are not automatically incapable of working a physically demanding job.

But you need to know your body.

You need to pay attention to patterns.

You need to understand what drains you.

You need to understand what helps you recover.

And you need to recognize the difference between pushing yourself and destroying yourself.

I am still learning that difference.

Some days I can do things I didn’t think I could do.

Other days, something that normally feels easy can completely wipe me out.

That’s one of the hardest things about invisible illness.

You don’t always know what kind of day you’re going to have.

And working with MS doesn’t necessarily mean pretending your illness doesn’t exist.

For me, it has meant learning how to work “with” my limitations instead of pretending I don’t have them.

Sometimes that means adapting.

Sometimes it means asking questions.

Sometimes it means changing departments.

Sometimes it means resting.

Sometimes it means accepting that I cannot do something the way I want to.

And sometimes it means putting on the armor and getting through the shift anyway.

What Almost 2 Years At Amazon Has Taught Me

When I look back at where I started, I don’t see a perfect success story.

I see a messy one.

I see a seasonal employee.

I see part-time nights.

I see two months on days.

I see returning to nights and building friendships.

I see long shifts.

I see overtime.

I see pain.

I see laughing with coworkers.

I see arguments.

I see gossip.

I see management conversations.

I see coachings.

I see a write-up.

I see rate problems.

I see robots.

I see departments that my body loves and departments that my body hates.

I see medical appointments squeezed between responsibilities.

I see nights where I barely slept.

I see mornings when I still got my kids where they needed to go.

I see the days I wanted to cry.

I see the days I actually did cry.

And I see the days I still put my shoes on and went back.

That’s my real experience working at Amazon with multiple sclerosis.

Not a motivational poster.

Not:

“Look how strong I am.”

Not:

“MS can’t stop me.”

Because sometimes MS does stop me.

Sometimes my body says no.

But other times, I find a way.

And I think that distinction matters.

I don’t think strength means never having a limit.

Sometimes strength is knowing you have a limit and still figuring out what you can do within it.

Almost 2 Years Later

Almost two years after walking into Amazon as a part-time seasonal employee, I’m still here.

I’m not the same person who walked through those doors in December 2024.

I’ve learned the warehouse.

I’ve learned the people.

I’ve learned the systems.

I’ve learned the robots.

I’ve learned rate.

I’ve learned management.

I’ve learned overtime.

I’ve learned what my body can sometimes handle and what it absolutely cannot.

I’ve learned that being able to do something once doesn’t necessarily mean I should do it every day.

I’ve learned that recovery is part of the work too.

I’ve learned that my job doesn’t exist in isolation.

I’m an employee.

I’m a mother.

I’m a person living with MS and fibromyalgia.

And all three of those things have to exist at the same time.

I haven’t mastered that balance.

I’m still figuring it out.

But I’m still here.

If You’re Working With MS

If you’re reading this because you have MS and you’re working, especially if you’re working in a warehouse, manufacturing, retail, healthcare, construction, food service, or another physically demanding environment, I want you to know that you aren’t the only person trying to figure this out.

You may be the person standing there smiling while your legs hurt.

You may be the person taking your break because you desperately need to sit down.

You may be the person calculating how much energy you have left in the shift.

You may be the person who looks completely fine while your body feels anything but fine.

You may be scared that your employer will think you’re lazy.

You may be scared that asking for help will make people see you differently.

You may be exhausted from constantly proving that you can do your job.

I’ve lived that.

And I’m still living it.

I don’t have every answer.

I’m not writing this because I’ve mastered working with multiple sclerosis.

I’m writing it because I’m still doing it.

Almost two years after walking into Amazon as a seasonal part-time employee, I’m still here.

I’ve learned the warehouse.

I’ve learned the people.

I’ve learned the systems.

I’ve learned the robots.

I’ve learned rate.

I’ve learned management.

I’ve learned overtime.

I’ve learned what my body can sometimes handle and what it absolutely cannot.

And I’m still learning how to balance being an employee, a mother, and a person living with MS and fibromyalgia.

If you are doing the same thing, I hope you take something from my story:

“You are not lazy. You are not weak. You are not alone.”

Sometimes surviving a workday with a chronic illness doesn’t look impressive from the outside.

Sometimes it looks like putting on steel-toed shoes, walking into a warehouse, doing your best for ten hours, going home in pain, and doing it again tomorrow.

I know what that looks like.

“Because that’s my life.”

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