Content Notes: Discussion of chronic illness and disability, emotional vulnerability, identity, and being told parts of yourself are “unlovable.” Reflection on music as connection, comfort, and meaning. No graphic content, but some introspection that may land close to home.
Welcome to The Crippled Cryptid.
Disability, chronic illness, service dogs, and survival without the performance.
If you’re new here, hi. I’m Sky.
Professional cryptid.
Unwilling amateur cyborg.
Medically complex enough to make my chart a jump scare. I cope with sarcasm and snacks.
Most days are lived in a haunted meat suit with a questionable warranty and a long-standing feud with my nervous system. I spend a lot of time in Bed Jail™, but I’m rarely alone thanks to Luna, my medical alert service dog.
Guardian. Enforcer. OSHA violation prevention officer.
There’s also M&M.
My Player 2. My soft place to land. The one who shows up when I can’t. She makes soup. She gives headpats. She watches shows with me. She keeps me sane.
This space is for chronic illness without inspiration porn.
Disability without apologies.
Love without pretending it’s always neat or easy.
(But it always comes with a little dog hair.)
If you’ve been here before, welcome back.
If you’re new, you’ll find your footing.
Welcome to the Lunatic Café.
On today’s menu: Music.
Music is an integral part of my life. There is very little time when I am not listening to something, and I say that as someone who does not enjoy silence at all. Quiet feels too loud. Always has.
Part of that comes from my past life working in a gambling café as a bartender. Keeping the vibes going was part of the job, which meant I became a reluctant, part-time Spotify DJ. I learned how to read a room. What people needed. When to lift the energy and when to let it settle.
If the machines didn’t need cleaning and no one needed a drink, I could do basically whatever I wanted. Most of the time, that meant reading, doodling, or writing. And listening. Constantly.
Now, silence longer than five minutes feels wrong unless I absolutely have to sit in it. There is always something in the background. TikTok. A cooking show. Noise of some kind. But music is preferred.
Lately, more often than not, you’ll catch me listening to the Sinners soundtrack. Even after writing two posts about that film, it still hasn’t loosened its grip on me. There’s something about it that lingers. If it isn’t that, it’s Gethsemane by Sleep Token.
Now, before anyone rolls their eyes and says something predictable like, “Of course she’s a Sleep Token fan.” Yes. Of course I am.
No, it has nothing to do with the masks.
No, it has nothing to do with the spooky aesthetic.
It has everything to do with the sound. And what the music is willing to say.
You can hear emotional intelligence in it. You can hear someone who understands the world sideways. Someone who wants to be known. Someone who wants to be loved and understood.
And I think most of us want that.
I also think most of us are terrified of letting ourselves have it.
Because being known means letting someone in. Letting them see the parts of you that feel unlovable. The parts you were taught to hide. The parts someone may have told you, explicitly or not, were a burden.
That’s not theoretical for me. That’s lived experience. As a chronically ill and disabled ghoul, and also just as a person.
Because I am just a person.
And I am chronically ill and disabled.
Two things can be true at once.
One of the things Sinners does so well is name music as something bigger than entertainment. Remmick believes that Sammie’s music could bring worlds closer together. That sound, rhythm, and devotion could thin the space between realms. That through music, he might finally see his kin again.
I haven’t stopped thinking about that.
Maybe it’s metaphor. Maybe it’s myth-making. Or maybe it’s something older than we know how to explain.
Because music has always been a threshold thing.
It carries grief. It carries prayer. It carries memory and longing and joy across time. It has walked with humans through rituals, funerals, births, rebellions, and love stories since we first figured out how to make sound on purpose.
If that isn’t a kind of magic, I don’t know what is.
I don’t mean magic as in special effects or spells. I mean magic as in transformation. As in connection. As in the quiet, powerful way something unseen can move through you and leave you changed.
I do believe music can thin the veil.
I believe it can bring one world closer to another.
Not just the world of the living and the dead, but the worlds inside us. The version of ourselves we were. The version we are. The version we are trying to survive into.
I believe music can be a bridge.
I also believe you can be the kind of person who listens to Sleep Token and the kind of person who listens to the Sinners soundtrack on repeat, including Last Time (I Seen the Sun).
I don’t believe people need to stay inside neat musical boxes. I think you can like whatever speaks to you. Whatever keeps you going. Whatever makes you feel most yourself. That will never look the same for everyone.
Some people love country music and only country music.
Maybe it speaks to their version of God.
Maybe it’s what they were raised on.
Maybe it feels like home.
That isn’t something we need to judge.
I grew up listening to a little bit of everything. Godsmack. Fleetwood Mac. Dixie Chicks. Staind. 90s pop. If it sounded good and the lyrics meant something to me, I listened.
What I didn’t love was the commentary.
“You can’t listen to that, you like metal.”
“You can’t like Ozzy, you like Stevie Nicks.”
Why not?
Why does liking one thing mean I’m barred from another? That isn’t how music works. There are no rules that say if you love one artist, you must reject another.
Liking music isn’t a loyalty oath.
It’s like food. You’re allowed to like spicy and sweet. You’re allowed to crave different things at different times.
Music is food for the soul.
For the mind.
For the heart.
It keeps you going when things are hard and nothing makes sense. There shouldn’t be rules about what you’re allowed to love unless it causes harm.
And I don’t believe in harming people.
I don’t believe in bullying.
So I’ll ask you:
Do you have a favorite song?
Does it change like mine does?
If it does, what is it right now?
Tell me in the comments. I want to listen.
If something here hit close to home, you’re not alone.
If you stayed anyway, thank you.
You don’t have to earn your place here.
—Sky
© The Crippled Cryptid
Disability. Honesty. A little chaos.
🔗 https://linktr.ee/skylanarissa
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If you want to support the long, unglamorous work of survival and mobility:
💜 https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-skys-journey-to-health-and-mobility
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