I Circle Back
to old issues stuck in my core, concerns surrounding
domination, my easy abdication of the pilot’s seat, to
let someone take the wheel and all control. I’ve been
too quick to say, You choose. I’m fine with whatever
you decide. How soon I complain. This isn’t what I
want— this isolation, job, labor’s paternal division so I
get all the chores of toilets, kitchen, serving while
everyone eats dinner. I seem to choose those who boast
of their trove of inside knowledge, who ooze
confidence, tell me what to think and how to vote. You
say my brain is out of whack? If I agree with your
interpretation, you’re correct. Disagree and I’m
resisting, hostile. If I make a case for my view, I’ll be
tagged defensive. Maybe your hypothesis is wrong.
Uneasy, unsettled, I have reasons for my anger, and
circle back to resurrect arguments with the dead. They
can’t interrupt. This time I have the final word, no
more circling back.
About the Author
Joan Mazza worked as a medical microbiologist and psychotherapist and taught workshops on understanding dreams and nightmares. She is the author of six self-help psychology books, including Dreaming Your Real Self (Penguin/Putnam). Her work has appeared in Crab Orchard Review, Poet Lore, Slant, Prairie Schooner, and The Nation. She lives in rural central Virginia.