Let me ask you something.
Have you ever shown up to a doctor’s appointment on the completely wrong day — and only realised when you were already sitting in the waiting room, coat still on, proud of yourself for being early?
Have you ever asked Siri where your phone is? Ten times. Before 9am.
Do you have half-finished cups of tea in at least three different rooms right now? Not forgotten — strategically placed. You were definitely coming back for them.
Do you set an alarm 40 minutes early to make sure you’re on time — and then somehow, by some miracle of physics that defies all logic, still arrive late?
My story (the honest version)
I grew up in Ukraine, where mental health wasn’t really something people talked about. Not because nobody was struggling — plenty of people were — but because it simply wasn’t in the language we had for things. If something felt wrong, it was physical. You were tired. You needed vitamins. You needed to try harder.
So I tried harder. For a very long time.
I was the child who couldn’t sit still, who read the first 40 pages of every book and then moved on to the next one (I currently have approximately 30 books — none of them finished). The teenager who lost everything, forgot everything, felt everything at maximum volume. The student who would hyperfocus on completely the wrong thing for six hours and then wonder why the actual assignment wasn’t done.
I thought that was just me. A personality flaw. A discipline problem.
It was only years later — living in Germany, navigating life as an expat — that I was first diagnosed with Generalised Anxiety Disorder. And then later still, I started suspecting there might be another name for some of what I was experiencing.
Getting an ADHD diagnosis as an adult woman, in a foreign country, in a second language, with waiting times that are truly something else — that is its own kind of adventure. It was complex, frustrating, and occasionally completely absurd.
But it was also one of the most clarifying things that has ever happened to me.
Because suddenly the wrong appointment days made sense. The ten Siri calls before breakfast made sense. The 30 books. The cold teas. The switching hobbies. The oversharing with someone I’d just met and then replaying it for four days straight.
It was never a discipline problem. It was never just me trying hard enough.
You are not alone if…
→ You arrived at an appointment on the wrong date, sat down, got coffee from the machine, and only then thought to check your phone.
→ Your phone is never where you left it. You ask Siri to find it. Siri has started sounding slightly judgemental.
→ There are several cups of tea around your apartment in various states of coldness. You were coming back for them. You always intend to come back.
→ You set three alarms, leave 40 minutes early, and still arrive at the last possible second, slightly out of breath, saying “sorry, sorry” to nobody.
→ You have books. Many books. You have read the first 30 to 40 pages of most of them. You will definitely finish them. Probably.
→ You heard about a condition — any condition — and immediately opened a new tab.
→ The nurses at your GP know you by name. By face. By general vibe. When you walk in, there is a small flicker of recognition. You are known here.
→ You switched hobbies recently. And before that. And before that. Each time it felt like it might finally be the one. (It still might be.)
→ You overshared with someone you’d just met — a stranger, a colleague, a doctor — and it felt completely natural and then you spent 48 hours replaying every word in quiet horror.
→ Your thoughts are in approximately six different places at once. You are following all of them. You are following none of them.
If any of this made you breathe a small sigh of relief and think
“oh thank god, it’s not just me” — you are in the right place.
This is exactly where you belong.
What you’ll find here
ADHD Diaries
The diagnosis journey, what daily life actually looks like with an ADHD brain, and navigating the German healthcare system when you’re already exhausted. No five-step cures. Just honesty.
Anxiety Diaries
The kind that announces itself as a physical problem before you even know it’s anxiety. The kind that Googles everything. Written from the inside, not the outside.
Mental health in Germany
Finding a therapist in a second language. Waiting times. Krankenkasse coverage. The practical side of getting help in a country where the system is good but the queue is long.
This corner of my blog exists for one reason — so you feel less alone.
Not to give you a five-step cure. Not to tell you that if you just drink more water and make a to-do list everything will click into place. (It will not. I have seventeen to-do lists. They have not helped.)
Just to sit here with you and say: same. Me too. You are not alone in this.
— Iana 🤍
My Life Diaries 