I Opened the Fridge and Felt Like a Failure

Dear Delyara, There was food in there. Enough to make dinner. Nobody was starving. Still, I stared into that refrigerator like it had personally exposed me. Chicken that needed thawing. Produce going bad. Half a sauce jar. Kids’ yogurt. Things I bought with good intentions and never turned into meals. It looked like every version of me that meant well and ran out of energy halfway through. I know that sounds dramatic. But some nights a fridge isn’t a fridge. It’s a mirror. I closed the door, opened it again, and stood there with my forehead against the cold shelf because I genuinely did not want to decide what everyone would eat. Eventually, I made sandwiches. Nobody complained. I still felt awful.