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

On doubt, despondence, survival, and the quiet work of becoming.

Disclaimer: This post touches on themes of grief, trauma, mental health and suicide. If any part of this piece feels heavy for you, please pause, take a breath, and return only if and when you feel ready. None of this is meant as advice—only as a reflection of my lived experience, written with care and honesty.

There’s a quote we all love to repeat:
“Rejection is redirection.”

Lovely on paper. Hard in real life.
And almost impossible to believe when your world is shifting beneath you.

We rarely talk about the messy middle—the space between the rejection and the redirection. The stretch of time where you doubt everything, including yourself. The waiting. The sadness. The moments when your body whispers, “Enough.”

Because sometimes redirection doesn’t feel divine.
Sometimes it feels like loss. Like despondence, not just sadness.

And yes, I learned recently there’s a difference.

Sadness ebbs.
Despondence hollows.
It sits with you long after the moment has passed, long after the trauma has subsided, long after everyone assumes you’re “fine.”

How Much Rejection Can One Heart Hold?

Friendships that fade.
Relationships that break.
Career pivots that don’t land.
Jobs that disappoint.
Family wounds that reopen themselves every few months like clockwork.

It adds up.
And there comes a point where one day—one year—one chapter—your body simply says, “No more.”

You withdraw.
You retreat into the comfort of your sofa.
You choose silence over company, solitude over socialising.
And you wonder why you no longer recognise the version of yourself you’ve always been.

But change, even the good kind, comes with fear.
We are creatures of habit—tied to our titles, our lifestyles, our neighbourhoods, our routines, the quiet nods of recognition when someone asks, “You live here?”

Losing that stability—voluntarily or otherwise—can shake a person to their core.

And yet… there’s another side to this story.

Some chase “more” so hard they lose themselves entirely.
Others become “richer” in the world’s eyes but emptier on the inside.
And some of us… some of us simply sit with ourselves and learn to be okay with the quiet.

The Privilege of Loss

I’ve lost family, friends, colleagues—sometimes in the same chapter.
I call it a privilege now, though it never felt like one.

Because it forced me to sit with a truth I spent years outrunning:
There were-and are- seasons where my phone didn’t ring for weeks.
No one checked in.
No one asked if I was okay.

It put “sitting with myself” into perspective.

A few months ago someone told me, “You hide pain well.”
Was it a compliment? A warning? A mirror?
I still don’t know.

Another person once told me I was a bad friend because I didn’t share my problems—a red flag wrapped in a backhanded hug.

But here’s what I know now:
We all cope differently.
And what we need is not permission to struggle—but healthier ways to navigate the struggle.

Grief, Joy & Co-Existence

Earlier this year, a dear friend of mine died by suicide.
He wrote his own eulogy—carefully, methodically, heartbreakingly.
Phrases like “I’m tired,” “I’ve lived a full life,” and “This brings me peace” echo inside me still.

Grief sits with you.
Silence follows you.
And life goes on around you whether you can keep up or not.

I’ve had my own moments—the 2009 Pizza Express meltdown where my heartbreak came with a free meal and a complimentary dessert.
And the 2023 version of me eating profiteroles alone in Rome, joyful and unbothered.

Same solo dining.
Two entirely different women.

Time doesn’t always heal.
But it does reframe.

A Season of Lights, A Season of Shadows

As Thanksgiving and Christmas wrap the world in soft glow, I want to say this:

It’s okay if your Christmas spirit is late.
It’s okay if joy feels complicated.
It’s okay if you smile with one hand and steady your sadness with the other.

Many feelings can coexist.
Many seasons can overlap.
Many truths can be held at once.

People who care will hold space.
People who don’t will drift away like they were always meant to.

Rejection, Redirection & Fear

Let’s not romanticise it.
When you’re worried about your next paycheck, a changing family dynamic, bills, responsibilities, survival itself—it’s hard to believe in “redirection.”

But it’s also where the quiet work begins.

Here’s what I know:
I have survived my worst days (so far).
The tear-soaked prayers, the ink-streaked journal pages, the doggies staring in confused concern—all of it.

I am still here.
A lot less friends.
Less money.
A different identity.
A changed perspective.
But here.

And when I plug in my Christmas tree, I still smile.

We find ways—if we choose to and if we’re able.
Some of us need help. Some need rest. Some need time.

Lessons & Actions (gentle, real, doable):

1. Let yourself feel the doubt.
Belief doesn’t come immediately. Redirection is something you see in hindsight.

2. Sitting with yourself is not failure.
Sometimes it’s the only way to hear what your life has been trying to tell you.

3. Not everyone is meant to stay.
Loss has a purpose. Space has a purpose. Silence has a purpose.

4. You can hold grief and joy at the same time.
There is no “right” way to feel during the holidays.

5. If no one calls your phone, message yourself.
Write your own encouragement. Speak over your own life.

6. When rejection hits, ask two questions:
What is this teaching me?
What can I do next?

Victimhood won’t serve you.
Agency will.

7. Your life can be redesigned at any age.
Start with one small thing you can control today.

Closing Reflection

Maybe 2025 felt like Mercury retrograde every single day.
Maybe 2026 will be kinder.
Maybe it won’t.

But you will carry wisdom into the new year.
You will carry truth.
You will carry resilience.
And you will carry yourself.

Rejection isn’t immediate redirection.
But it can be, with time, tenderness, work, and belief.

And sometimes that belief begins the moment you whisper to yourself:

“I’m still here.”

Before you go…
Take a moment with this:

“If you could whisper one sentence to your past self, what would it be?”

Let that answer rise gently — without judgment, without rush, without expectation. Sometimes the truth we most need to hear is the one we’ve avoided saying out loud.

✨ Closing Call to Action

If this piece found you in a moment of doubt or heaviness, I hope it reminded you that you’re not alone. Take a moment today to truly check in with yourself — what do you need, what can you release, and what small choice can support your future self? If you’re navigating your own season of rejection or redirection, feel free to share your reflections below. Your story might be the reminder someone else quietly needs.

And if you’re finding it hard to carry everything on your own, please reach out to someone you trust — a friend, a therapist, a support line, anyone who can help hold some of the weight. You don’t have to walk every chapter alone.

✨Gratitude Prompt

Take one minute today and name three things you’re grateful for — even if one of them is simply that you woke up.