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

This week, I cried.

And not the soft, feminine, aesthetic, “single tear rolling down a cheek” kind of cry either.
I mean the red-faced, pressure-in-your-ears, nose-running, can’t-catch-your-breath kind.
The kind that leaves you puffy, exhausted, and slightly offended that your body betrayed you so publicly… even if the only witness was you.

I was sitting at my desk, already feeling physically off.
A sprained back meant no proper exercise for over a week.
My body was deep in PMS overdrive—sore tummy, sore everything (yes, everything).
And then, because life has a sense of humour, I got the car insurance renewal.

You know the one.
The “cost of breathing is rising” email.

And in that moment… I just felt sad.

Not victim sad.
Not “why me” sad.
Just… behind.

Like I was trying so hard to hold onto positivity, to be this version of myself that pushes through, stays grounded, stays grateful—and for a second, it all felt a little fraudulent. Like my “enough” wasn’t enough.

Since February, it’s been one thing after the next—flu, stomach bug, now a sprained back.
All cutting into the carefully curated routine I rely on to feel like myself.

And when that structure slips, so does something inside you.

But here’s the thing about perspective—it doesn’t always show up when you want it to… but it does show up.

Because just last week, I sat with a girlfriend I hadn’t seen in almost six months.
We talked for nearly three hours straight—no pauses, no filler, just connection.
And I left that catch-up filled with love. Real love. The kind that reminds you who you are.

There was also that random Tuesday escape—down the islands, unplanned, sun on skin, laughter in the air.
Spicy margaritas on date night with my husband.
A Sunday filled with noise and joy and family—my brother-in-law and niece visiting, laughter spilling into every room.

So yes, I had a moment this week.
But I also had many moments.

And then—because the universe has impeccable timing—I came across a LinkedIn post from a former Big 4 professional who taught one of my M&A classes.

He was speaking candidly about his pivot into entrepreneurship.
The fear. The financial pressure. The “what if I don’t make it” thoughts.

And it struck me—how is it that we all feel so alone in this?

How do we convince ourselves that our fears are singular, when they are actually so shared?

We build these towering narratives in our heads, when in reality, so many of us are quietly navigating the same uncertainty.

And just when I had my little emotional crash-out… faith showed up.

Quietly. Gently.

On Friday, I received an email from a woman who had presented at the same conference as me in Toronto last October.
She invited me to speak at an event she’s hosting this September in Washington.

And I smiled.

Because life may feel uncertain, but it is still moving.
Doors are still opening.
Opportunities are still finding me—even when I’m sitting at my desk, puffy-eyed and questioning everything.

Life looks different right now.
And maybe that’s the point.

Change is the only real constant.
And I am learning—slowly—that I cannot keep measuring myself against standards that no longer apply to who I am or the life I am building.

It is okay to be imperfect.
It is okay to feel off.
It is okay to not be understood.

Because the truth is—people can only meet you at the depth they’ve met themselves.
And your life cannot be driven by someone else’s definition of success.

Right now, my days are full.

Not in the old way.
Not in the structured, hyper-productive, tick-every-box way.

But full in a way that feels… mine.

Work at a pace I choose.
Engagements that actually bring me joy.
Time with my dogs.
The freedom to skip a workout, eat Indian sweets, have prosecco—and know that nothing is falling apart because of it.

There is presence here.

There is softness here.

There is life here.

Yesterday was a holiday in Trinidad.

I exercised.
Spent the afternoon day drinking with my husband and his friends.
Ate pizza.
Played with my dogs.
Went to bed at 8 p.m. and had the kind of sleep that resets your soul.

And today?
A slow Saturday.
A spin class.
Bathing the dogs (which is never as calm as it sounds).

Simple things. Good things.

So maybe this is the reminder—mostly to myself:

Let’s be grateful for the “what we have’s” first.

Not in a forced, toxic positivity way.
But in a grounded, honest way.

You can cry ugly tears and still have a beautiful life.
You can feel behind and still be exactly where you need to be.

Both can exist.

And both, somehow, are true.

About the Author

Sarala writes about leadership, life in transition, and the quiet, complicated moments in between. A Caribbean-based legal strategist and storyteller, she believes in people-first growth, honest reflection, and finding meaning in both the chaos and the calm.

Clue of the Week 💭

If your life feels unfamiliar, it may not mean you’re lost.
It may mean you’ve outgrown the version of life you once understood.