The official trailer

Introduction:

After years of relentless chaos, endless searches for lost items, and constantly drifting from one thought to another (even while reading the very sentence you're reading right now), I finally decided it was high time to put my experiences with A.D.H.D. down on paper.
Not because I believed my stories would magically improve anyone’s life—no, that would be far too much credit for my scrambled brain.
But I thought, “Why not use a bit of humor to navigate the chaos of life?”

After everything I’ve been through, I can honestly say that humor was the only way I managed to stay upright—without bouncing off the walls of my own house while on yet another sock-hunt.

This book is not a self-help book.
Let me repeat that: not a self-help book.
Although, if you happen to feel a little better after reading about my dramatic crimes against logic, well, that’s a bonus.

What you're getting here is an autobiography—but one that feels more like a wild ride with your eyes closed and your hands in the air.
A ride you never asked for, and one you’re not quite sure you can get off.
It’s a collection of chaos, self-deprecating humor, and unexpected moments that have quite literally (and figuratively) taken me from one surprise to the next.

The title, HOCUS, FOCUS… Poof! is a fitting summary of how my focus works.
Or rather: how it doesn’t work.
My focus is like a dove vanishing from a magician’s sleeve—one moment it’s there, the next it’s gone, and I’m left standing with a blank stare and my hands in the air, trying to grasp something that makes absolutely no sense.
And if there’s one thing I excel at, it’s making my attention disappear.

Think of the most mysterious magic trick you’ve ever seen—but without the flair, without the skill, and without even that slight sense of urgency a magician is supposed to have.
In my case, it’s just a constant, subtle state of panic the moment I realize I can’t find my keys… oh right, and I’ve lost them again!

In this book, I mainly want to describe situations that are familiar to me—and hopefully to you as well.
I’m an expert in the fine art of sudden, explosive outbursts of anger, in impulsiveness that throws everything around me into disarray, and in the never-ending quest for a moment of peace in a world that seems to be screaming in my ear nonstop.

And then there’s the endless repetition of everything:
A joke that gets told again and again,
The same question asked (and answered) a hundred times,
And that eternal loop of thoughts spinning in your head like a hamster on a treadmill.

I plan to set all of this on fire with a generous dose of humor and self-mockery—because believe me, if I couldn’t laugh at myself, this would be one hell of a long ride.

On top of that, I simply can’t deny you the daily struggle I have with the urge to explain everything in excruciating detail.
Everything always has to be analyzed, dissected, and narrated to whoever happens to be nearby—regardless of whether they’re already nodding off mid-sentence.
And while I’m telling these stories, there’s always that little voice in my head whispering:
“You do know you’re repeating yourself, right?”
And instead of ignoring it, I just say: “Yes, I know—but I can’t help it.”
Repetition is like an old friend who keeps showing up, even though you haven’t really needed his company in years.

I was only diagnosed with A.D.H.D. later in life, and I have to admit—it was a relief.
No more looks of confusion, no more baffled comments about being “lazy” or “just not that interested.”
No, I finally had something solid to point to, something that gave me legitimate explanations for my own chaos.

It was as if someone had finally mapped out the mess in my head and said:
“Yes, it’s perfectly normal that you don’t know where you are—because no one knows where they are on this map!”
And let’s be honest: if there’s one thing I truly excel at, it’s not knowing where I am—no matter which room I’m standing in.
I’m an expert at finding objects I’m absolutely not looking for (until I suddenly am looking for them), and the only thing that’s ever really kept me upright is that persistent sense of humor that somehow always got me through the walls.

So no, this book won’t improve your life.
But it might make you laugh at my countless blunders—or help you realize that you’re not the only one living in a constant state of “Where the hell am I again?”
If you read this book, I hope you find a little comfort in it—or at the very least, permission to embrace your own chaos.
Because trust me, if I can learn to accept it all with a smile, then so can you.

And yes, of course: if laughter truly is the best medicine, then consider this at least half a dose of fun.
It won’t cure everything, but it might offer a bit of relief.
Although fair warning: if you’re not careful, you might just get as lost in here as I do—with a grin on your face—and a brain scan proving I’m not as crazy as I look.