This couldn’t have come at a worse time, quite frankly.

My sister rings me up, essentially out of the blue, to remind me that I’m her next of kin, and that if “anything happens” while she’s out of the country, the life insurance check comes to me.

“I love the idea of people getting money if I get washed out to sea.” she said. “I mean, I don’t like the idea of getting washed out to sea… but if I do, I’m happy to know there’s a check coming your way.”

That’s my sister. I love her frankness… most of the time.

Today, however, I’m not sure if I love her or hate her. Not because of her, but because of me, of course.

See, she’s taking this trip as part of her “change of scene/figure out my next step” practice. When she’s at a crossroads, she likes to pack it all in and take a trip somewhere to clear her head, clear the air, and get a fresh perspective on life.

I guess I’m feeling jealous right now. Yeah. Jealous sounds accurate. When she called, I had all I could do not to cry in her ear. I was so happy for her. Being able to cross off a bucket list item, and spend quality time with yourself working out your next steps is so inspiring and empowering.

And right now, I feel neither inspired nor empowered.

Now, I don’t quite feel helpless and hopeless, either. But certainly not inspired or empowered.

Limbo. That’s what I’m feeling right now.

This rotten, mucky space between decision and action. This space where I know something’s coming, and I’m doing what I know to do to prepare, but it can’t come soon enough, and, like Inigo Montoya said in The Princess Bride, “I hate waiting.”

I was really hoping I was past “the inbetweens” for a while. But alas, that is not the case.

So I got to thinking about the allure of being in Central America for a while – and why I was even jealous in the first place.

See, Jealousy is a sign. It’s a red flag that you’d like something that someone else already has.

And quite frankly, I have no immediate desire to visit Central America.

I’m sure it’s lovely, and if I surfed like my sister does, perhaps I’d be more interested. But I’m not. Heck, I don’t even have a passport yet.

So what’s the lure? Why am I feeling this twinge of jealousy?

In a word: Freedom

There’s a certain sense of freedom that comes when you can call up your sister and say “Hey, Sis! I’m leaving the country for a while. Don’t wait up!” There’s an inspiring breath of independence that flows when you can say “I’m getting a change of scenery so I can get a fresh perspective and figure out my next step.”

There’s something sexy about hearing “If I die, you get the check.”

Not that I want my sister to die. Not at all. I want her to have an amazing time, crossing off her bucket list items. I want her to take tons of pictures, and maybe send me a postcard telling me she’s having a blast and that she wishes I were there.

I want her to enjoy being truly herself, having the time of her life.

And there’s the rub.

Because as of late, I’ve been recognizing that so much of the last decade has been me NOT being truly myself. NOT having the time of my life. NOT crossing off my bucket list items.

I acknowledge also that it was my own choice to be that person. I also confess that its a bitch to try and get back to that space after nearly 10 years of doing everything but.

There’s a lot of negative self talk: about being too old, too fat, too isolated too unconnected, etc.

There’s a lot of recognizing that I did a few things totally wrong. My friend says there’s no right or wrong, only your path. Well, then perhaps I’m just not enjoying the view from my path. Call it sour grapes if you’d like.

I don’t know exactly what it means, other than I think I need an equivalent trip to the middle of nowhere for myself.

A place to clear my head and get a fresh perspective. Without demands on my time. Without worrying about someone else for a while.

As a wife, mom, and business owner, the likelihood of taking an extended vacation by myself presents its own set of issues. And since I’m a researcher, I’m looking at all kinds of ways to get the clear headed approach I want without having to travel to another continent to do it.

I’ve been working on a screenplay for a web series, and in it, the lead character moves away from her family for a summer to clear her head and get some perspective about the life of anonymity she’s been trying to live to appease her family. In the process, her mother dies, and she’s forced to come to terms with some relationship issues she hadn’t counted on. While I don’t think I’m moving away for the summer, I am considering my options. Among them a social media hiatus, extended retreat, and even a visit to that sister of mine – once she’s back from Central America, of course.

What about you? When you need to get a fresh perspective, where do you go? What do you do?

This could get messy.

So @Sarahrobinson tweets about her son’s super powers. Then my pals @LIPDesign and @DanaReeves get into the conversation, which ultimately leads me to the “distracted” tweet I shared a couple of days ago. The crux of the convo was that Sarah’s kid was using his special abilities, and she, as an adult, didn’t feel as though she had the same skills in her present evolution. I believe the hashtag she used was #themomomentsIfeeillequippedtobehismom.

I think it’s safe to say we’ve all been there as adults. But it’s our own darn fault.

And it’s time things changed.

We walk around so consumed by “worldly” stuff – to borrow a biblical term. Bills, friends’ drama, family drama, our drama…

Drama drama drama! Save it for somebody else’s Momma!

I’m not saying we shouldn’t deal with that “stuff” that pops up in our lives. We definitely should. And we should ask for help when we can’t deal with it ourselves.

What I AM saying is that we use that drama as an excuse. A crutch. We let ourselves get “distracted” from our original dreams.

When we wore Wonder Woman Underoos, and knew we were invincible. When we tied Dad’s bathrobe around our neck and tried to jump off the garage roof. When we dared to believe in the stuff that really mattered: our dreams and the things we wanted to be about in the world.

When we were kids – like Joan of Arc – we were loyal to our dreams, our ambitions and the beliefs we held dear. Even in impoverished communities, little girls still dream of being princesses and living a life of “happily ever after”. Little boys still dream of “making big bucks” or “being a fireman” and “saving the world”.

To be frank, our world could use a little saving right now. Mostly from the so-called “grown ups”

So many of those would-be firefighters, teachers, doctors and princesses traded in their dreams for a 9-5 at the liquor store, not because they couldn’t do it. But because they didn’t see the patterns, and got distracted into a new pattern of “baby daddy momma drama” and wound up flipping burgers, or at the local stop-and-rob.

The simple fact is that for most of us that aren’t living out our happily-ever-after end game, there comes a point when you have to stop blaming everyone but yourself and decide: “Is this really the end game I want for myself?”

Maybe if we showed our daughters that in order to become a princess, they’ve got to have a smaller end game of meeting a prince (it does happen). Maybe if we encouraged our kids to save the world, we’d have a few more like Saint Joan.

And, perhaps along the way, they’d decide that it’s more fun to be president, or write books, or pursue a different dream.

Instead, they’re scrubbing the whole idea of having a dream in the first place.

Scratch that. They’re scrubbing the whole idea of LIVING their dream. They still cling to their dreams like Lola, the showgirl in Barry Manilow’s “Copacabana”: Bitter. Maybe even remorseful. Loaded down with regret and perhaps anger. Sitting there with faded feathers, remembering what could have been.

Is THAT really the end game you want for yourself? Are you still clinging to “hope” as a strategy for getting your happily ever after? Living with a lottery ticket mentality.

My husband says you can’t win if you don’t play the game.

My Mom said the answer’s always no if you don’t ask.

Joan said live what you believe.

I say ask, with hope, backed by a belief in what you’re end game is. That’s where we’ll pick up our super hero mantle again.

And with it, our dreams.

Yesterday, I ended the beginning of this loop by encouraging you to ask for what you really need.

How’s that workin’ for ya?

No doubt, there are a handful of you reading this that didn’t get around to asking for anything, right?

Some of you just don’t DO that kind of thing. Maybe you’re not even sure what you need.

So let’s continue today with a discussion on finding the patterns.

red, blue, green

Red, Blue, Green

REd, BLue, GReen

RED, BLUe, GREen

What comes next in the pattern?

The answer could be:

RED, BLUE, GREEn

rED, BLUE, GREEn

red, blue, green

red, BLUE, GREEn

At this point, we don’t really know for certain.

Why? Because we haven’t seen the full cycle.

We don’t know what the end of the cycle is. And for as much as we might think we know, the only person who really knows, is the one who designed the pattern. Only that designer knows with certainty, what the next step is in the pattern.

If your answer was “rED, BLUE, GREEn” then this designer says you were correct.

What does this mean for you?

It means you’re looking in the wrong place for the answer. You’re trying to piece together the puzzle without knowledge of what I call “the end game”. That phrase takes on all kinds of connotations, but for me, it’s simply this:

The end game is the final destination. The arrival or achievement of the goal.

Sunset. A million dollars. Losing 100 pounds. A 5,000-piece jigsaw puzzle.

It’s quantifiable. Something you can know with certainty when you’ve hit (or missed) the mark.

That’s the end game.

My contention is that everything has an end game.

Life is the ultimate end game.

Until you know what your end game is, you can’t begin to identify the pattern that applies to your situation.

If you can’t figure out the end game, your scope is too big. At least in this moment, right now, it’s too big. Pick a smaller end game.

Find something you can manage. Even if it’s as simple as getting a cup of water.

Now, find the patterns, the cycles, the natural steps that have to happen in order to reach the end game.

Get out of you chair and head to the cupboard. Get the cup. Cross to the faucet. Turn on the water. Place the cup under the water and fill. Move the cup to your lips and drink.

It’s a predictable pattern we take for granted every day of our lives. Yet many, who don’t have clean water, or a cup to drink from, or the mobility to drink for themselves, would love to figure out this pattern so that they could reach their own end game.

Instead, their end game has to be smaller: finding a source for drinkable water, getting help to feed themselves, etc.

The same goes for you.

I’m not saying stop dreaming so big – God knows I do!

I’m saying keep the dreams, and find your end game – that thing you CAN figure out.

Then ask with hope, hustle, and do what you gotta do to make it to the end game.