Content Warning: This post includes discussion of grief, loss of pets, chronic illness, medical procedures, accidents, and PTSD.
Or: A Thank-You Note Written Under Twinkle Lights
Welcome back to the Cryptid’s Den.
Welcome back to The Crippled Cryptid, where disability, chronic illness, service dogs, and everyday sorcery gather under soft Christmas lights like friendly ghosts trading stories and snacks.
If you’re new here: hi. I’m Sky.
Professional cryptid.
Unwilling amateur cyborg.
Medically interesting enough to make half my providers sigh when they open my chart. I sigh too. Then I roll my eyes.
I live in a haunted meat suit with a highly questionable, definitely expired warranty.
Returning readers: welcome home.
New cryptids: welcome to the Lunatic Café.
Normally, this is where I’d pretend Thanksgiving is the only acceptable time to talk about gratitude. But December has always felt more honest to me. The year is tired. I’m tired. The ghosts are closer. The lights are softer. And the things that carried me through don’t feel like a performance. They feel like lifelines.
So, consider this less a “what I’m thankful for” list, and more a candle-lit inventory of the people, beings, and places that kept me upright in 2025.
Sometimes barely. Sometimes stubbornly. Sometimes out of pure spite.
1. M&M
I know. Everyone says they’re thankful for their partner. Roll your eyes if you need to.
But M&M isn’t just my partner. I don’t think she’s ever been just anything. She’s been my constant since we were kids in middle school, back when my grandfather had cancer, I was being bullied, and I didn’t yet know how loud my body was going to get later in life. The MCAS was quiet then. The migraines never were.
She showed up anyway. Even when she was being bullied too. Even when her home life was hard. Even when it would’ve been easier not to.
I had friends. I had people I called best friends. But when things fell apart, when the smoke cleared, she was the only one still standing there.
She moved away, because that’s what happens when you’re young and adults make the decisions. But she stayed. Through email. Through Yahoo Messenger. Through Myspace and early Facebook and whatever awkward digital bridge we could find.
And in the end, she found her way back to me.
Chronic illness. Disability. Diagnoses. Surgeries. Healing times. Now another surgery looming in 2026.
She still chooses me. Every day.
She goes to every appointment. Holds my hand when I’m scared. Helps me fill out service dog paperwork. Trains Luna with me. Carries me through grief when we lost Bear. Stands beside me when my body tries to betray me.
She pushes me to do better. To keep writing. Even if the novel she wants from me still isn’t finished. Maybe 2026. Maybe the Fire Horse will help.
2. The Yard Yeti (BJ)
When I was seven and my mom told me I was getting a little brother, I asked if I could have a cat instead. Or a rabbit.
Turns out he’s better than a rabbit.
He pushes back sometimes. On chores. On volume control while gaming. On being told what to do. But he’s got more emotional depth than people give him credit for, and I wish more people would actually look.
He’s strong. Determined. Weirdly excellent at making you laugh when everything feels heavy.
I hope 2026 brings more nights where M&M and I make homemade pizza, Luna underfoot, and the three of us watch Hazbin Hotel or Helluva Boss together. Even when I don’t know what’s happening. Even when it’s silly.
Those moments are my favorite.
Also, he makes the best tater tots.
And if you need someone to make you a 3am grilled cheese after surgery, he’s your guy.
3. Luna
Yes. Of course she’s on this list.
Everyone’s favorite Service Dingo™. Blanket hog. Luna Bean. My baby.
She came home as a pet. A Facebook post. Too skinny. Mismatched eyes. A breed I knew nothing about.
May 11th, 2024 was the day she became family. The day my life tilted on its axis.
I didn’t expect her to alert to migraines, seizures, heart spikes, or dizziness. But she did. And she kept doing it. And she keeps doing it.
She steals the heated blanket. Wakes me from nightmares. Grounds me through medication side effects. (Keppra, I am staring directly at you.)
And this year, when we lost Bear, she softened a grief I didn’t think anything could touch. She kept the Yard Yeti smiling. Held M&M together. Propped me up when my body wanted to fold.
She’s not just a service dog.
She’s a small, furry cryptid angel.
4. Bear
He was always meant to be here.
Even though he’s gone, we had ten months together this year. Ten months of joy. Of snacks. Of cheese. Of pizza crust negotiations.
He patrolled the fence like it was sacred duty. Yelled at boats and trucks with conviction. Loved Luna like a big brother should.
He taught her how to be a dog. And how to take care of her people.
He’s running free now, over the Rainbow Bridge, with Rex, Yoda, and Lady. His DNA a mystery by choice. His legacy unquestionable.
5. Aunt Dee
We don’t always agree. Sometimes I think she’s a little wild.
But she’s in my corner.
Thank you for the spicy bird seed. The Uber gift cards to help us get to the doctor. The help looking for a car. The quiet ways you show up.
I wish you lived closer. I hope we get a car. I hope my health lets us visit.
Thank you for being you.
6. Aunt Lise
I couldn’t make it through the week without her.
Food Bank Days mean shouting “Lise!” into the phone like excited Muppets. Cooking advice. New recipes. Encouragement to try strange produce.
She makes everything lighter. Always.
She’s reminded me what family can feel like again. Even from far away.
One day I’ll hug her in person, and a lot of things will feel more manageable.
7. Kim, Frank, and Denise
You gave me hope when my job was breaking me.
You reminded me that good people exist.
I wish you lived closer. I wish I reached out more. I promise I’ll try harder in 2026.
I just didn’t want to burden you with my own burdens.
8. Roy
Thank you for finding me when I was lost.
For Anita Blake. For strength. For staying.
9. Nurse Tracy
There are people who become constants so quietly you don’t notice how much weight they’ve been carrying until you imagine life without them.
Nurse Tracy is one of those people.
She’s been part of my life since I turned eighteen, back when I was just starting to learn how loud and complicated my body could be. Xolair became routine. Long before chronic illness took up so much space. She has been there through all of it.
She makes me smile when I want to cry. She makes it easier to keep showing up on the days when I want to give up on the injections entirely. She reminds me, gently and consistently, that I’m allowed to be tired and still keep going.
I like hearing about her life. About her husband. Her kids. The small, human details that make the room feel warmer. I like checking in on her too, especially after they found the tumor in her brain, because care doesn’t only flow one way. She feels like family in the same way Aunt Lise does. She makes everything lighter.
She never makes me feel like a burden. Or a chart. Or a name on a clipboard. She makes me feel real.
When she asks about Luna, and what she’s learning, and her face lights up, it’s not polite interest. It’s genuine. She is truly excited for me, and that matters more than she probably knows.
People like Nurse Tracy are why I still believe in modern medicine. Why I know that not all doctors and nurses are dismissive, burned out, or cruel. She has never looked at me and thought, she’s too young to be this sick. She has never treated me like an anomaly or an inconvenience.
She treats me like a person.
10. Our Food Bank
After our October 22nd car accident, they didn’t ask questions.
They fed us.
They cared.
In 2026, I hope I can give back, even a little.
11. Jason
Thank you for rides. For gardening help. For helping Bear cross the bridge with dignity.
We couldn’t have done it without you.
2025 broke me in ways I’m still discovering.
Another car accident. PTSD. Losing Bear. Seizures. Learning that my DRG stimulator was never fully removed.
I’m tired. But I’m still here.
So maybe 2026 can be the year we aim higher. Even if it scares us.
© The Crippled Cryptid– Disability, honesty, and a little chaos.
https://linktr.ee/skylanarissa
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Support Sky’s Journey to Health and Mobility: https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-skys-journey-to-health-and-mobility
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