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

This week, I board a plane for St. Lucia to speak at the Fearless Women’s Summit.

A few years ago, I would have thought the achievement was the invitation.

Today, I know the achievement is the woman boarding the plane.

Not because she is speaking.

Not because her name appears on a programme alongside accomplished women from across the World.

Not because she has a title, credentials, or a microphone.

The achievement is that she finally understands that none of those things determine her worth.

For much of my career, like many professionals, I climbed. I chased opportunities, accepted challenges, worked long hours, collected achievements, and measured progress by the next rung on the ladder.

Promotion. Title. Recognition. Responsibility.

Climb. Climb. Climb.

And for a long time, that worked.

Until one day it didn’t.

Not because I failed.

Not because I wasn’t capable.

But because I discovered something many of us eventually learn: ladders are often built by other people. Other people’s expectations. Other people’s definitions of success. Other people’s timelines.

And when one of those ladders breaks—or perhaps when we realise it was leaning against the wrong wall all along—we are left standing still, wondering who we are without it.

That moment can feel terrifying.

It certainly did for me.

This year has been a year of reinvention. Of launching my legal, governance, strategy and reinvention consultancy. Of stepping into speaking opportunities. Of building something that is entirely my own. Of learning that investing in yourself feels very different when there is no corporate budget behind it.

Every conference ticket.

Every flight.

Every hotel booking.

Every piece of branded material.

Every risk.

Every decision.

Mine.

And if I’m honest, there have been moments when I’ve looked at those investments and wondered if I was being brave or simply slightly mad.

There is a vulnerability that comes with betting on yourself.

No title can shield you from it.

No employer can absorb the risk.

No organisational chart can tell you what comes next.

It is just you.

Your experience.

Your voice.

Your belief that what you have to offer matters.

As I prepared for St. Lucia this week, I found myself reflecting on how much of my growth this year has had nothing to do with professional accomplishments and everything to do with self-trust.

Learning to trust my instincts.

Learning to trust my experience.

Learning to trust that I can enter new rooms without needing to prove why I deserve to be there.

Because perhaps the biggest lesson of all is this:

Confidence doesn’t arrive after success.

Confidence arrives when you decide to move before success is guaranteed.

It is booking the ticket before you know exactly how the opportunity will unfold.

It is submitting the application before you know whether you will be selected.

It is launching the business before every detail is perfect.

It is raising your hand before you feel completely ready.

For many years, I thought confidence was something successful people possessed.

Now I think confidence is something ordinary people practice.

One decision at a time.

One uncomfortable step at a time.

One brave choice at a time.

As I pack my suitcase this week, I am carrying more than outfits, speaking notes, and business cards.

I am carrying every lesson that brought me here.

The lessons from leadership.

The lessons from disappointment.

The lessons from therapy.

The lessons from entrepreneurship.

The lessons from learning that some people will misunderstand you, underestimate you, or simply choose not to support you—and that none of those things have the power to define you unless you hand them the pen.

I will stand on a stage this week and speak about what happens when the ladder breaks.

But today, I am reminded that the real story isn’t about the ladder at all.

It’s about the woman who discovers she can build a different way up.

And sometimes, she discovers she was never meant to climb someone else’s ladder in the first place.

Reflection Question:
What is one thing you would do this year if you stopped waiting for permission?