Content Notes: chronic illness, disability, fatigue, sleep disturbance, medical frustration, emotional heaviness. Includes mental health reminders and resources.
Welcome back to the Den.
The lights are low, the rules are flexible, and nobody here expects you to be brave on command. Not even Luna.
This is The Crippled Cryptid.
A soft-lit corner of the internet where disability, chronic illness, service dogs, and everyday survival exist without apology.
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 ask for coffee.
Truthfully, I think most of my doctors want something stronger than coffee by the time they’ve looked through my chart. That’s okay. I’m used to it. It’s a lot.
I live in a haunted meat suit with a deeply suspicious warranty, spend a lot of time in Bed Jail™, and am almost never alone thanks to my medical alert service dog, Luna.
Luna is more than my shadow- she’s a barometer, a comfort, and a soft pawed anchor when the world feels heavy. Today, she’s curled up nearby, occasionally nudging my hand, reminding me that even when I’m spinning with feelings, I’m not alone.
Then there’s M&M.
My constant. My Player 2. The one who gives the 90% when I only have 10. Garden gremlin. Best friend. The one who helps make soup and gives headpats. We even started a crockpot of chicken soup this morning- low effort, high payoff, the kind of care that doesn’t ask you to perform gratitude. Kitchen magic at it’s finest.
This space is about showing up for ourselves even when our bodies refuse to cooperate.
Chronic illness without inspiration porn.
Disability without apologies.
Love without pretending it’s always easy.
(But it always comes with at least a little dog fur.)
Returning cryptids, welcome home.
New cryptids, pull up a chair.
The Lunatic Café is open. The Den is big enough for all of us.
On today’s menu: low battery, high emotion.
Have you ever had one of those days where you technically did everything right?
You took your meds. You ate something. You drank water.
You slept. Maybe more than usual. Your Apple Watch hands you a perfect little score. Ten hours. Gold star. Meanwhile, your body remembers every interruption. Every toss. Every half-waking moment where rest never quite arrived.
No nightmares, even. Just that strange, hollow exhaustion that feels unearned and impossible to explain.
I’m coming off a cold. I think.
I’m finally at the point again where I don’t need to be taking Buckley’s anymore. But it wasn’t really helping to begin with. So, I tried not to take it if I could help it. Cough drops really didn’t help either. Neither did Vick’s Vapor Rub. I either caught the plague or the most stubborn cold there ever was. It’s debatable.
I can breathe through my nose again, mostly, but sleep is still the hardest part. I’m either too hot or too cold in a way that can’t be fixed. Not thermostat cold. Not shower cold. Not heated blanket cold.
The internal kind.
The kind that makes you want to curl inward and hide from the world, even when you don’t have the energy to do that either.
There’s nothing to fix it. Nothing to tweak. Nothing to solve.
That’s where I am today.
And even though it’s Sunday and the world is closed, my feelings are very much open for business.
The big ones. The restless ones. The ones that whisper that I should be doing more than sitting here at my desk.
Calling doctors.
Scheduling appointments.
Fixing something.
Proving something. To someone. Anyone.
It’s one of those days where my brain is sprinting laps while my body is blinking a low-battery warning. I know better. I do.
But knowing doesn’t always quiet the noise.
These are the days I’m reminded most clearly that I’m chronically ill and disabled. Because before my health collapsed into something undeniable, I would have ignored every. single. warning sign.
Before Luna, I would have cleaned the house anyway.
Cooked elaborate meals anyway.
Gone to work anyway.
Even for bosses who never appreciated me and always wanted more.
That story is coming. I’ve hinted at it. I said I wouldn’t talk about it.
I think I’m ready now.
Sometimes survival means finally setting the truth down where you can see it. Out in the open, where everyone can see it. Where the people who have hurt you and wronged you can see it- especially when you’re the type of person who keeps receipts. Text messages, screenshots, and photos. Not to burn anyone down. Just to remind myself that what I remember is real.
These are the days that teach me about limits.
And they’re also the days that remind me why my brain needs movement even when my body can’t follow. If I don’t keep my mind occupied, my body revolts.
So, when people ask why I multitask, why it looks like I have twenty tabs open at all times, this is why.
Right now, I’m writing this.
Playing the Vulpix event on Pokémon Go. I got one shiny ice Vulpix so far, and a shiny fire one.
Listening to a true crime podcast.
I’m also playing Monopoly Go on my iPad. I’m trying to finish the Harry Potter event.
And finally building the Facebook group for The Crippled Cryptid that I’ve been promising for a while now.
It’s not chaos. It’s regulation.
And it works.
So, if you want to join The Cryptid’s Den, I’ll leave the link here. It’s also available in our Linktree.
A place to gather.
To talk.
To share art.
Pet photos encouraged.
Existence required.
But spoons never are.
A chronic-illness ghoul-safe space where spoons and no-spoons are equally welcome. No judgment. No pressure. Just room to be.
You don’t have to mirror my feelings to belong here.
If today felt heavy, thank you for carrying it with me.
If it felt familiar, I’m glad you stayed.
If you’re here, you belong here.
I want you to know: this isn’t me putting myself down. I am okay mentally. These posts are about honesty, not self-flagellation. Sometimes life is messy, sometimes rest is imperfect, and that’s normal. You are normal too.
If you ever feel like this gets too heavy, there’s no shame in reaching out. Here are some mental health resources:
Love you. Now say it back.
-Sky
© The Crippled Cryptid
Disability, honesty, and a little chaos.
🔗 https://linktr.ee/skylanarissa
There’s never pressure to donate. Reading, sharing, or simply staying is more than enough.
If you’d like to support the long, slow work of staying alive, stable, and mobile:
💜 https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-skys-journey-to-health-and-mobility
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