THE SPOT

Tag: Mental Health

  • When Birthdays Don’t Feel Magical Anymore

    Sunset – Chania Old Harbor

    27 years ago, I “blessed” this world with my presence. 27 — not yet old, no longer really young. And I felt it.

    Birthdays stopped being magical for me a long time ago. I was thrust into the reality of life when I was 6 and my father got sick. Gone were the faint memories of presents and cake. In their place, the door opened for mental health issues, financial woes, and many suffocating crying sessions, both at my parents’ house as well as in my very own first apartments.

    This year, unfortunately, was no different. It started on August 15th. I felt overwhelmed, tired, exhausted — and very much done. I started reflecting: what have I accomplished so far? Based on all the experiences, the hurdles I jumped, the tears I wiped away, and the birthdays celebrated… was I there?

    It didn’t feel like it. It didn’t feel like I would ever reach there.

    I had read Meg Jay’s book once, The Defining Decade1. I knew that even clinicians don’t believe your twenties are the time of your life. But still, I felt… like I lacked.

    Lacked knowledge.
    Lacked guidance.
    Lacked grace.
    Lacked happiness.

    I don’t like myself — my weight, my thought process, my mental health issues, my job, and, lastly, the point I am at in my life currently. I wished I did.

    I look at Instagram, Reddit, LinkedIn, and other social platforms, and every post, every picture, every caption seems to solidify these thoughts.

    All of this culminated in tears — on my birthday.
    A day I should be thankful for.
    Not only for being given life, but for all the blessings I already have: family, friends, a roof over my head, food, life itself.

    But is that all I am meant to do on earth?

    Is this it?
    And if it is… shouldn’t I be as content as possible?

    I don’t know. The day I was supposed to be happy about was the day I felt like I had wasted it all. And as the sun set for another day, it felt like all my hope set with it.

    This was a great overview of the book, I hope you enjoy.
    Sunset in Heidelberg

  • Self-love: Finding yourself in a crowd of people

    Twas the season to get luxurious. Or so I thought.

    After yet another spiral of self-doubt, anger, and that familiar dull ache of self-loathing, I knew I needed to step out—literally. My days had blurred into a gray loop of working, studying, sleeping, and doing it all over again. The sun rose and set like a metronome, ticking through time, but nothing really moved me. My student apartment had become a quiet container for my thoughts, but not my feelings—something my psychologist gently pointed out. Feel your feelings, he said, not just think them.

    So I decided to do something different. Something that felt intentional. I picked up The Defining Decade by Dr. Meg Jay—a book every twenty-something should probably read. It wasn’t just full of research or clinical insight; it told stories about people like me, trying to make sense of their twenties. Careers, love, meaning, identity—each chapter gave me language for what I was stumbling through.

    With the book in hand and a shaky sense of purpose, I made a reservation at jil Rooftop Bar, one of Heidelberg’s newer, trendier spots. Picture this: a crisp fall night, Bismarckplatz glittering below, and me, in a black dress with a slit up the side, attempting what I hoped would be a moment—a night of self-love and presence.

    Reality arrived before the drinks did.

    I sat down alone. Waited. No one came. The room was full of life—strangers laughing, couples clinking glasses—and I was invisible. Eventually, I flagged someone down and ordered a Limoncello Sprizz and foie gras-stuffed chicken. I opened my book between sips, trying to create a cinematic moment for myself.

    But I wasn’t in a film. The food arrived, underwhelming. The drink was fine. The atmosphere buzzed, but I felt disconnected. Gray inside. My table neighbors asked if I was alone. I smiled and said yes, that I wanted to be. I wasn’t lying—but I also wasn’t fulfilled.

    After finishing, I stepped onto the balcony. Filmed the view. Still numb. I went back inside, ordered another drink, and let the weight settle in. No sudden clarity. No Instagram-worthy transformation. Just silence inside a very loud place.

    I paid at the bar. The waiter didn’t get a tip—the food was late and the service indifferent. I walked out onto the cold street, called my sister, and cried.

  • 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?

    While I’m still learning how to love myself, I have found ways to celebrate myself.

    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.