In the Event of Loss of Cabin Pressure ...

This past weekend found me awash in a sea of disappointment.

My oldest sister indicated that she wanted to come to New York to visit for a week and, as always, I did all I could possibly do to make it happen for her. But once she got here, she spared no time at all to spend with me or Brendan. Sunday night found the poor kid struggling to keep his eyes open so he could spend some "quality time" with her before she left the State early Monday morning, only to conk out at 9:30 p.m., while my sister did not show up until 10:30.

My brother was also in town and, after promising to spend some time with me at my home, decided to go back home a day early. The week before, I'd invited my father over for a barbeque to celebrate his 69th birthday; he responded with such negativity to the invite, that I felt like I'd offered him a steaming plate of dung or something equally as appetizing.

This glorious week concluded with my having a run-in with my step-son (I felt like he'd disrespected me and called him on it); which escalated into an argument with Big Bren and with me being cast as the "Evil Stepmother."

For the past year, I've been on this path of betterment. I've succeeded in many ways and failed miserably in others. In my quest, however, I have been quick to blame myself for my struggling relationships, where others' apathy, self-centeredness or emotional immaturity and laziness should have taken equal billing. I've often sacrificed my self, my finances, my pride and my time to make others happy (perhaps in yet another misguided attempt to garner love). And, today, I find myself feeling victimized (can't you tell??).

The kicker is that you cannot ingratiate yourself to anyone. People either love you or they don't. They either consider you or they don't. They either want to spend time with you or they don't. And if you are so busy trying to be loved that you stop loving yourself, then despite all your "doing," and all your "offering" and all the "providing," everyone around you will only mirror that absence of love.

As I sat here Sunday night, I suddenly thought of that instruction on the plane where they tell you that in the event of a sudden loss of cabin pressure, the oxygen masks will pop down; and when they do, you should put on your own mask before you help other people with theirs. Here I was, trying to save everyone, while I was nearly passed out from lack of oxygen. (When my sister finally showed up with her church "sisters" in tow, they decided to pray at the house before hitting the road. Tellingly, the Bible passage that one of the sisters chose for the occasion had a woman lamenting to God that she'd been forced to toil at everyone else's vineyard, leaving her own grapes to whither and die.) Surely, if I stop trying to be all things to all people, I can be "Mirna" for me. And at the end of the day -- or, in this case, week -- all I have left is me.