Today my anxiety is coming out through my head
It bops and sways without even asking my permission first
If it had asked, I would have replied ‘no way José’ not because its name is José, but because when I’m anxious I speak solely in phrases
Today my anxiety is coming out through my hands
They touch and feel everything even if it is wet or sticky
Sometimes touching things feels good, and sometimes it feels bad, but my anxiety doesn’t notice the difference.
Today my anxiety is coming out through my feet
They tap and skip and don’t care where they bring me
I wish for stillness, but instead I pace my living room until my soles ache and even then I can’t stop
Today my anxiety is overlapping with my autism
One at a time is hard enough, but today I have both
I’m tired of stimming, of echolalia, and of obsession, but today my brain doesn’t care
Today I am tired, but I am practicing self-care so that tomorrow will be better
Until then, I flap
