High functioning anxiety,

The name does not sound scary outloud,

It sounds manageable.

Like an airbag to fall back on at the end of a conversation that may never end,

I’ve learned a high functioning disorder sometimes has nothing to do with functioning at all,

I woke up one morning last week and I felt unable to function altogether, despite my disorder being heavily present, 

“Just a headache,” I told my mom,

It made me feel bad that the type of a headache I said I had could be fixed with an advil, 

But the one that was stirring could not.

 What I tried to explain is that my disorder has become a benign tumor, and that it’s making everything hurt except for my head,

It's easier to explain a physical ailment than an invisible one, 

I said that my headache was just an inconvenience and that I knew it would be gone tomorrow, 

But saying this made it worse, it made the tumor mad and it started to swell, 

I could feel my it get comfy in the rocking chair it had spent a year building in the back of my of my mind, 

Lately, i’ve been associating everyday behaviors with my disorder that quite possibly have nothing to do with it,

In example, when I drive in the rain, my windshield wipers wave to the other cars, and the other cars wave back.

I link this with my inner introvert, and how I always seem to be the first to wave, 

Even if I don't get a wave back, 

I’ve also become confused about what being a hypochondriac meant,

I would get chest pains and think I was having a heart attack but in the middle I would realize that it's a heart attack, 

And then that my heart attack is really a panic attack,

Yet panic attacks have absolutely nothing to do with germs, 

So how am I a hypochondriac?

Hypochondria is known blatantly as health anxiety, 

A constant worry that minor or invisible symptoms are potentially life threatening,

For me, this hides tucked in the pockets my regular anxiety, and until recently I hadn’t realized they were any different,

In one hand I have “oh my god, this stomach ache is probably malaria!” and in the other hand i’m holding “what the heck how embarrassing would it be to die from malaria in the middle of nowhere nebraska??!!”

Perhaps it’s what makes me proactive, or maybe it’s what keeps me high functioning,

I am fully aware of social que’s, but I often find myself not knowing when a sentence, conversation or the day should end,

Sometimes I see a bright red stop sign screaming at me to just... stop…. talking, 

Other times, I like the attention so much that I forget i’m even speaking out loud,

My words are snowballing off my tongue, with no regard to my conscience,

An horrific avalanche of judgement and disinterest in the forecast,

And still… I have no way of stopping myself, 

I’ve found that my disorder might be the most orderly, functioning thing about me.