From Heavy Hearts to Full Plates: A Journey of Self-Celebration

A couple of years ago, I was crying in my bed, feeling like a loser. I hadn’t gotten the things I wanted, hadn’t found contentment, and life felt like a continuous spiral of unhappiness.

I had just gone through a mentally draining, manipulative situationship. One night, after another bout of loneliness, I swore to myself: I would learn to enjoy my own company.

I don’t always like myself. I don’t always enjoy my thoughts or how my brain works. But I decided I would damn well try to make the best of it.

I kept searching online for an answer to the heavy heart in my chest and the sinking feeling in my gut. But the loneliness stayed, even in crowds — laughing among friends, sitting in class, waiting at the doctor’s office. It was there at dawn, dusk, night, morning.

Some said I needed a boyfriend. Maybe they were partly right. But male attention always felt more like a band-aid than surgery — it never really touched the wound underneath.

What was I supposed to do? Where was I supposed to go?

That’s when the idea of self-dating crossed my mind. So, ready, set, Google.

Oh man, I found a plethora of ideas. Single people, formerly married people, even married people — all talking about self-love, self-celebration, and self-finding.

And honestly, what could be more important than finding, loving, and celebrating yourself?

Join me on my adventures in self-celebration.

First things first: food. Because what is life without food? Plain, boring, and barely tolerable.

I started looking for restaurants in my city — Heidelberg. (Yes, the Heidelberg where so many people have lost their hearts; there’s even a whole song about it.)

The first spot I chose for my culinary journey: Salerno’s (Brückenstraße 38, 69120 Heidelberg).
Located in Neuenheim, Salerno’s is known for fresh, flavorful food and a charming atmosphere.

I made a reservation online. And then I panicked.
Would I look stupid all by myself? Would people stare at me, pity me?

I told my therapist, who in her free-spirited way simply said: “You should still try it.”

And so, I did.

(As you can probably tell from my solo travel adventures, I have never once regretted it.)

At Salerno’s, I had a pizza, a bit of wine. The waiter seemed perplexed that I wanted to sit in a corner alone, but funnily enough, he never forgot me — he came by quickly and often.

I sat there, looking around at all the groups of people.
And for once, I felt something different — gratitude.
Maybe even happiness?

I was proud.
Proud that I went through with it.
Proud that I didn’t let loneliness drown me, even if just for a twenty-minute dinner.

I lived to see another day.
And I’ll live to see many more.