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

For those who know me well, some would say I give extrovert energy.

And perhaps I do.

Not because I thrive endlessly in crowds or social calendars that resemble military logistics… but because I love fully, enthusiastically, and with intention. I bring joy to the people I care about.

Work joy is one thing.
Friend joy is another.

But here’s the quiet truth: people who give a lot of energy also need to recharge a lot of energy.

My idea of restoration is simple.

A book.
Ginger tea.
My pool and a bevvy.

And the only tolerated soundtrack is birds chirping… and Isabella barking at the birds chirping.

So after a particularly busy weekend a couple weeks ago, I planned what I called a vegetative and restorative weekend.

Key word: planned.

Life had other ideas.

The weekend began with the lingering remnants of food poisoning, which meant that by Saturday I was so exhausted I could barely move from the sofa. Not a chosen rest. A body-enforced shutdown.

So naturally I thought: Sunday will be the day.

Sunday morning began with mild irritation.

I had asked my husband to take charge of morning doggy duty so I could sleep in.

He agreed.

However… he never set his alarm.

So there I was—grumbling my way through feeding, walking, and clean-up, reminding myself that deep breathing is indeed a life skill.

Determined to salvage the day, I decided a soft Pilates class would help realign my mood and spine.

And just as I was getting ready… the phone rang.

An invitation to attend a Women’s Day Tea.

Now let me be clear. I had absolutely no plans to dress up, engage, and smile politely at people on what was supposed to be my sacred lazy Sunday.

But in what I will generously call the spirit of women’s empowerment (and what may also have involved a touch of guilt), I ultimately agreed to go.

Yes. I own the decision.

So I grumbled through Pilates.

I grumbled through Sunday meal prep.

Which is normally one of my favourite rituals — cooking with a gin & tonic in hand, chatting with my husband in the kitchen.

But not this Sunday.

Because I had to get dressed.

For the event.

And just as I was rushing around the kitchen… another call came in.

An invitation from a dear friend of my husband’s to come relax in their backyard and watch the sunset.

Lovely invitation.

Wrong timing.

My husband, of course, immediately accepted.

And kindly informed them that I would join after the event.

Rest where exactly?

But here is the thing.

The Women’s Day Tea turned out to be… delightful.

I had forgotten how much women in Trinidad love a good reason to dress up.

I looked lovely.
I people-watched.
I saw many familiar faces.

Some full of genuine smiles.

And some with jealousy so ripe it looked like mango smoothie forming right before my eyes.

I spent lovely time with my mother-in-law, who is always good fun, nibbling chocolate cake while admiring artwork and catching up.

And immediately after the event, I was whisked away to our friend’s house.

Where a cold glass of champagne, genuine laughter, and warm company awaited.

And truly — there are far worse ways to spend a Sunday evening.

We laughed.

We dipped into the pool at 6:45pm.

We met new furry friends.

And I spent time with my newly forming “Coco Crew.”

(Yes. There is absolutely a story behind that name.)

I am forming new friendships in this season of my life, and if I’m honest, that requires something that can feel surprisingly difficult:

Trust.

Trust that not everyone is mean.

Not everyone is a user.

Not everyone is two-faced.

Learning to open that door again while still protecting your peace is delicate work.

But Sunday reminded me that sometimes the very human interactions we dread can end up being exactly what fills us back up.

And then came Tuesday.

A random invitation to spend a few hours down the islands.

Normally I might hesitate — close quarters, new people, unknown dynamics.

But lately I’ve noticed something.

The moments that push me slightly outside my comfort zone have often turned out to be the most joyful.

So off I went.

Hummus and cheese puffs.

Prosecco.

Easy conversation.

New acquaintances.

A turtle sighting.

Sand underfoot.

And rain on the boat ride back to shore.

Truthfully… a glorious Tuesday afternoon.

Which reminded me of something.

Gratitude and appreciation may not fill bank accounts.

But they fill hearts.

They fill spirits.

They fill lives.

And much like corporate culture — something I wrote about last week — the most meaningful parts of life are often the things that cannot be neatly packaged into KPIs or performance metrics.

Connection.

Laughter.

Trust.

Unexpected joy.

Those things matter more than we often admit.

So that was the curious case of the quiet weekend that wasn’t quiet… and the random Tuesday that turned out to be rather perfect.

A reminder that sometimes it’s worth saying yes.

To new things.

To new people.

To moments you didn’t plan.

And to giving yourself the grace to redefine what rest, joy, and community actually look like.

Now if you’ll excuse me…

I am very much looking forward to the coming weekend.

Because frankly, at this point…

who knows what I might get up to.