Sarala Life — Life in Chapters: Careers, Canines, Cabernet & Courage

Turning 40 wasn’t about arriving. It was about resetting. I was determined to embrace 40 with curiosity, an abundant mindset and with welcome gusto…because honestly I ran from so many parts of 30 in shame, sadness and fear despite my many wins.

For years, I measured my life by milestones — the next role, the next achievement, the next version of “enough.”
But somewhere between chasing and arriving, I lost the quiet clarity of asking myself: What do I actually want now?

This new decade feels different. It’s less about striving and more about becoming. It’s about coming home — to myself, my truth, and the lessons life insisted I learn the hard way.

🌿 On Rejection and Redirection

If my thirties taught me anything, it’s that rejection isn’t always a loss — it’s often redirection dressed in disguise. But this lesson took a while because it was easier to lean into my conditioning that
“I wasn’t enough” or that “something was wrong with me”; that I was “unlovable” rather than to realize that I simply should not be sitting in a place that isn’t for me.

The job I didn’t get, the friendship that faded, the plan that unraveled — each felt like a collapse at the time. But looking back, I see how each “no” gently nudged me closer to what was meant for me. And I hope to share on each of these chapters further as we start this journey together. The truth is I am messy but sometimes messy things happen to us too…how do we validate our pain, give it grace and find a way forward more whole than the part we have lost.

I used to resist the closed doors, standing at them too long, hoping they’d open again. Now, I’ve learned to whisper thank you and walk away; and sometimes the “take 2” on the hello and goodbye may be a little louder when I walk back to the closed door to try again because progress isn’t always linear. Sometimes the universe removes what we can’t release ourselves…and when we fight it not only does it take longer but the challenge and lesson grows harder and heavier.

Rejection has become my recalibration. It’s how I’ve learned to trust that what is meant for me won’t miss me — even if it takes a different form than I imagined. And this is the biggest and hardest lesson I am still coming to terms with- sometimes what is best for you is in a form that you never imagined or re-imagined.

🕊️ On People and Seasons

It’s taken me four decades to accept that not everyone is meant to stay. People are seasonal, and so are we. If you didn’t stay, it was because I am unlovable and not enough… and these devious thoughts have in fact found some validity when I have been my most vulnerable and someone has walked away…but the lesson is, in that moment it may not be about you.

Some enter to remind us of joy. Some challenge us to grow. Some break our hearts open so we can heal properly this time- I am still in the break our hearts open era for some relationships if I’m honest and I could do a whole series on the pain of losing female friendships.

And some — the rare ones — stay long enough to see all our seasons and love us through each one…For me, I haven’t had that many rare ones and in fact I recently asked my therapist how many friends one person could actually lose. But the rare ones that remain see my light and are equally happy to give me truth when I need to be humbled. So at 40, quality over quantity is a new truth.

I used to cling tightly, afraid of endings. Now I see that letting go is not failure; it’s wisdom.
Not everyone can walk with you to your next chapter — and that’s okay. Some goodbyes are sacred acts of self-preservation.

🔥 On Grief, Anger, and the Fire That Refines

There’s a kind of grief that doesn’t announce itself — the grief of dreams that die quietly, the grief of outgrowing versions of yourself that once fit perfectly.

I’ve learned that grief isn’t just about loss; it’s about transformation. It softens you in some places and hardens you in others. It reminds you of what matters, and strips away what doesn’t.

And anger — I’ve stopped pretending it doesn’t belong. Anger has its place. It’s fuel, if you know how to use it. For far too long I was afraid of feeling angry, because it was “something bad”, it meant I was causing an issue and it was unproductive. But that meant shutting off so many parts of myself on a quest to “push forward”… pushing forward into spaces not for me and shrinking myself to be in places I thought I needed to be.
I’m learning to let it sharpen my clarity, not cloud my judgment. To let it power change, not pettiness- although let me tell you, sometimes a little petty feels SO good- yes, yes, this is a safe space of becoming, we don’t need to be there yet.
To let it remind me that I care deeply — and that caring is never weakness.

🌺 On the Art of the Reset

Forty is not a finish line. It’s a threshold.

It’s the decade of refinement — where I stop seeking permission and start granting it to myself.
Where I choose peace over pace, purpose over perfection, and connection over comparison.

This reset isn’t about reinventing who I am — it’s about remembering her.
The woman who loves deeply, leads with courage, and keeps learning to begin again, even when it hurts.

✨ Here’s to What’s Next

If there’s one thing I know now, it’s this: life doesn’t move in straight lines.
It circles back, pauses, surprises, and stretches us until we see what we’re made of.

So here’s to new beginnings at 40.
To rejection that reroutes us.
To anger that ignites purpose.
To grief that grows grace.
To people who stay — and to those who don’t.
And to the quiet courage it takes to start over, one chapter, one glass, one breath at a time.

At 40, I am truly restarting my whole life’s purpose and strategy, but I am working from a place of all the experience I have had before- definitely a “net positive” position. That said, it does not mean it isn’t hard and I don’t wonder about how far behind I may be falling. One true lesson I have learnt in the year of 39 into 40…for every day I did not know how I would survive, I have had two where I have thrived and I am here to tell the tale.