My brother lives at my house, so we share the fridge.
When he first moved in, the top shelf and the vegetable crisper on the bottom left were allocated to him. The three middle shelves and the larger vegetable crisper on the right were kept for Doug and I.
This first photo was taken about 2 weeks after my husband left:
That jug of water belongs only to Doug. After I had each of my embryos transferred I was extremely superstitious about eating or drinking anything colder than room temperature, and so even now I hate the thought of drinking cold water.
The carton of milk was put there by my mother because I had run out of fresh milk and refused to buy more.
The bag of cheese was left over from the night we made chicken enchiladas the weekend before Doug left.
Everything else in the fridge at that time belonged to my brother.
I wasn’t hungry. I couldn’t stomach food. There was no food in my house. It made me sick to even think about it.
Aaaaand this is is my fridge tonight:
This is progess, is it not? Okay sure I still haven’t bought fresh milk. No, there are still no vegetables in my crisper. And yes Doug’s water jug is still sitting there completely untouched as if he’s somehow coming home to drink it.
But there’s a little punnet of tomatoes in there! And yoghurt! And three tubs of soup! I’m not capable of cooking yet but at least I’m able to eat something when I get home from work.
I’m pretty happy with my efforts here.
I think the contents of my fridge provide tangible proof I am going to be okay.
Tiny little steps in the right direction are better than leaps and bounds backwards.
Now if only I could re-teach myself to sleep at night…