Story Telling?

So, I suppose there is a story in the fact that I did not make it to my story telling workshop tonight, up in Clifton Park. Or not. I left home about 5:15 and headed to the Northway. Everything was fine until I realized I was not sure what exit to take. But I did remember I had been on Route 9 last session and I thought I remembered the address so I took what seemed like the correct exit. Only it wasn't. But it did bring me to Route 9 which I turned onto, heading north. Drove about 5 miles and couldn't find the bookstore. Turned around and headed south back to what I thought was the correct address. But it wasn't. By then I had to accept that I had no idea where I needed to go and after several misguided attempts, made it back to the Northway. Heading south. While crying. Alot. Hard. One of the things that I have always been able to do well is find my way around, even if I have been someplace only once. My sense of direction has always served me well. Ok, not always but 99% of the time. But tonight that gift failed me. It's happened before. It isn't the worst of experiences. But I didn't want to miss the workshop. And I couldn't remember the name of the bookstore. So, I had nothing to work with. Is it a prelude to future problems? The book I'm reading, "Carved in Sand" suggests that early onset Alzheimers or other forms of dimentia have been missed in the pass. And the book about the neurologist who documented her recovery from a stroke suggests that typical tests for these things don't take into account the original starting point for the patient. A high functioning person who losese their typical abilities should not be evaluated as if everything were normal. For that person, it's not. Not that this is a matter of higher functioning but my typical level of operating is one thing. Tonight's events make me wonder if there is something to be concerned about. Or am I just doing drama? I've forgotten plenty of things in the past. There are so many reasons why we forget things: stress, distractions, organic breakdowns, and others but this rattles me. I wanted to go. I know I couldn't have been too far from the store but just couldn't get a sense of what direction I needed to head in.
And it upset me. I was disappointed. I felt lost. And maybe that's what triggered the angst. I don't like feeling lost, without an anchor, without a set point. And so then I cried out to God, "what do you want from me? What am I supposed to learn? What's this test about? Is it or am I exaggerating? I don't want to exaggerate the depth of the experience. I don't want to work out of my temperment, hardwiring distortion. Enneagram 4 - that's me. But God, you made me this way and now I'm not supposed to be who I am? I feel what I feel, but it's too much? Too much angst...too much despair. And what did Melissa (spiritual director) warn me about yesterday? She mentioned, Merton was it? The womb is the wound? Sounds backwards. But the wound is still there obviously. And then I felt like I wanted my mom. Either one. Not sure that "Ruby" could handle this - but hers was the womb I came from. And then I heard Mom ask, "what do you want me to do Josie? What do you need? And that's the thing. I have no idea. Even if Mom were here, which I desperately want, what could she do? She can't fix my life, fix me, fix the situation...I just want her back. Five years later and it's like it's last week. I hated when she was like this about her dad. I never said anything to her but couldn't understand why 25 years later, her grief was still so fresh. I believe some of it had to do w/the fact she did have issues she never dealt with. But smart-aleck me thought I'd escape that depth of pain, that sense of loss, having "dealt" with my issues. Yeah. I have - but the wound of loss is still there. The grief. Still with me. I miss you Mom & Dad - but tonight I just cried out for Mommy.
And then I wanted a piece of chocolate cake. Talk about sympathy pains - empathic experience. Mom used food to handle the hurt. I know it's not a good idea. Doesn't really change the facts. Doesn't really make it better. I guess it does work as a pain blocker for a little while. I've done it before, knowing it wasn't going to change anything.
But I wanted some chocolate cake and thought, "why not?" I stopped at a diner in Kinderhook. There was a huge classic car show going on. It didn't entice me. I went in but it was busy and I didn't think they'd accept a credit card for what probably would be less than a $5.00 purchase. I left and stopped at the Hannaford down the road. I wandered up and down the refrigerator aisle until I found the cake. I purchased it and drove home. On the radio a song highlighting nostalgia played, John Mellencamp's "Cherry Bomb." Perfect background music to a chocolate cake binge w/a classic car setting. A little before my time but nostalgia hemmed the night.
I don't know if there's anything to be learned in this "story." Or writing it. Melissa suggested I journal around the discussion from yesterday...the wound, the womb, my "4" characteristics. Didn't think there'd be too much generated but maybe I was wrong. I don't know. I've been told I overanalyze things...I'm too sensitive...I'm shoot, what's the word - don't work hard enough - yea that's it, I don't live up to my potential. I've been trying to all my life. And there was one other thing I realized that had me upset. I don't think I can tell stories anymore. I used to be able to make them up but I haven't done that in a long time.
I can tell about things - like a story - but who cares really? Will it make a difference? I hadn't planned on just writing for myself - telling stories to myself. That was the point of going to the story telling workshop. And wow - missed the first session, missed tonight. Is there something I need to know from this? Can't I pursue anything so that it serves a purpose for the greater good if not my own? I don't know. I just know that the cake tasted good. And I didn't eat tooo much. Just enough.