Autobiography · Mental Health · Personal Development


"That’s All Yolks" © Rob, 2012. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.
That’s All Yolks” © Rob, 2012. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

The yolk from the white, I try to separate the logic from the feeling. What I cognitively know from what circles like snakes in my stomach. Only one part is used at a time. The things I know exhaust and go home long before emotions tire, and I’m left sobbing in the shower over things I know aren’t true.

We ache. Our hearts, our spirits are pummeled against the shore for longer than we think they can hold up. At night we wrap up into each other and I whisper, “I don’t know if I can do this forever,” and he responds with, “You don’t have to. Just a little while more.”

I shake. Pull my hair and claw at my skin and gasp into the carpet. Put on my coat and scarf and take a walk. Call my mom. Beg for something to keep me just a little grounded.

It’s that time of year again.

In a bathrobe and slippers, I curl up on the couch and read books. Play video games. Watch Law and Order. Anything to keep me distracted. To keep me from looking into the pit of me and still not having any answers for why life feels like this.

But when I’m running Zedd’s vocalist is singing in my ears again. “Take your dark days and send them to the sun and carry on…” And I hit repeat again and again and again. Again. Again. “Let it go until you let go of all the anger…” And I run. My feet pounding the pavement and my heart leaping out of my chest. Unsure if I even remember what breathing steady is. I gasp for air and my legs scream to stop. No. Again. Again. “It’s easy to hold, but so hard to forgive…” Again. Again. “All the words that made you hurt will burn like paper. Straight into the fire, straight into the fire. Let it go until the smoke is gone forever…” Again. Again.

I separate out the yolk from the white. Knowing full well that each part has its own use and sometimes they are used together. I cling onto the scraps of hope still left in me somewhere. The perfect mixture of logic and feeling. I dig my nails in deep.


16 thoughts on “Yolk

  1. man i love you girl….you write so beautifully of things i can touch, but don’t know on the deep level that you do.
    I’m glad I don’t know them that deeply, my surface acquaintance is enough for me.
    I’m so sorry that you do, and I hope so much for better days for you.
    I’m grateful for your generosity in sharing and allowing hope to float to others.
    know you have support from many

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Reading this I had to listen to Carlos Santana sing “Put Your Lights On” —
    “There’s a monster living under my bed
    Whispering in my ear.
    There’s an angel with her hand on my head.
    She say I got nothin’ to fear.
    There’s a darkness living deep in my soul.
    It’s still got a putpose to serve.”

    Alas, its not up on You tube for sharing.

    The yokl and the white – the separating – so beautiful – such pain

    A Zen master said: “To endure the unendurable is true endurance.”

    Thank you.



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