🦋 Cryptid Check-In #3: Come Sit in the Den Awhile

Content Note: Chronic illness, disability, medical events (including severe headaches), emotional overwhelm, family complexity, survival language. Gentle grounding included.

Welcome to The Crippled Cryptid

Disability. Chronic illness. Service dogs. 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, snacks, and building something honest in a world that really prefers things to be tidy and inspirational.

Most days are lived in a haunted meat suit with a questionable warranty and a long-standing feud with my nervous system.

But Thursdays…

Thursdays are quieter.

What This Space Is (And Isn’t)

This isn’t a rant.
This isn’t a report.

This is a check-in.

With me.
With you.
With the Den.

Because this space was never meant to be one-sided.

It’s a place to exist together. To talk.
To be seen without performing wellness. Without pretending things are okay when they aren’t.

No inspiration porn.
No forced positivity.
No gold stars for suffering silently.

Just… honesty.

The Creatures Who Keep Me Here

I spend a lot of time in Bed Jail™, but I’m rarely alone.

There’s Luna.

My medical alert service dog.
Guardian. Enforcer. Service Dingo™.

Lately, she’s been… hovering.

Always nearby because that’s part of her job, yes.
But closer than usual. Watching. Tracking.

Sticking to me like she’s personally offended by the idea of me being unsupervised.

She keeps pressing her nose into my arm like she’s checking in.
Like she’s asking a question I haven’t answered yet.

The kind of quiet, constant presence that says:
something’s not right, and I’m not letting you ignore it.

She’s been right before.
(Annoyingly often.)

Thankfully, the thunderclap headaches have eased up lately. But that doesn’t mean everything is fine.

It just means the alarm has changed shape.

There’s been a lot going on.
Some things I can talk about. Some I can’t.
Some you’ll hear about in time.

Then there’s M&M.

My Player 2. My soft place to land.

Currently in their “please drink water and stop being stubborn” era.

Because your local cryptid is deep in a painful bout of insomnia.

And yes, they’ve noticed.
Luna definitely has.

Which, to be clear, is an entirely reasonable response to everything happening right now.

And yet.

Your Cryptid remains… deeply committed to the bit.

Stubborn in a way that isn’t admirable. Just well-practiced.

That instinct. The “I’ll just push through it” reflex?

It kept me alive once.

It is not what keeps me safe now.

So let me say this clearly. For you, and for me:

Don’t take that habit from me.

Even if I’m still learning how to put it down.

Even old Cryptids can learn new tricks.

I promise.

The Actual Check-In

You don’t have to answer this out loud.
You don’t have to answer it at all.

But…

How are you doing… really?

No dodging.
No “I’m fine, but—” escape hatches.

You’re allowed to be honest here.

You are not a burden for having feelings.
You are not “too much” for existing in a hard body or a hard life.

Take a breath with me for a second.

In for four.
Hold.
Out for six.

Again, if you need it.

Unclench your jaw.
Drop your shoulders.
Go grab some water.

I’ll wait.

Where I’m At

Honestly?

I didn’t know when I first started writing this.

And I think that’s fair.

The holidays alone can be heavy. Emotional. Complicated.

But layered on top of everything else going on in my life…

It’s been a lot.

I was sitting there with my phone in my hand, just… staring at the message longer than I meant to.

I found out that my father isn’t who I thought he was.

But we’ve been over that, that’s nothing new.

And now, suddenly, my actual father is here.

He wants to know me.
My life. My writing. My partner.

He loves Luna. Thinks she’s amazing.

And the whole thing is… more emotional than I expected.

Not in a bad way.

Just… full.

I grew up without my father. Without that connection.

And now I have it.

And it matters in ways I don’t fully have language for yet.

He told his own father about me on Easter.

And something about that-

It landed somewhere deep.

It made me feel… chosen.

Not like an option.
Not like an afterthought.

Chosen.

And I don’t think I realized how much I needed that until it happened.

For You, Wherever You’re At

If this week is kicking your ass, I see you.

If you’re barely holding it together, that still counts as holding it together.

If things are heavy, you don’t have to carry it alone here.

And if things are good?

You’re allowed to say that too.
Without guilt.

There is room for all of it.

If you don’t have the words today, that’s okay.

You still showed up.

And that matters more than people give it credit for.

The Door Is Open

If you want to talk, my DMs are open.

No pressure.
No expectations.

Just… open.

Even if it means you’re having a hard week, and you just need a few extra Luna Bean photos.

I hope the rest of your week is kinder to you than the beginning was.

I’m really glad you’re here.

I mean that.

Love you.

Yeah, I said it first. Your turn.

The Den’s warm. Stay as long as you need.

🐾 Luna Rating

🟡 Alert Level: Elevated but controlled
🐾 Naps Interrupted: Yes
👀 Surveillance Mode: Active
Verdict: “My human is suspicious. I will be watching.”

-Sky
© The Crippled Cryptid

Disability. Survival. No performance required.
(But softer today.)

🔗 https://linktr.ee/skylanarissa

There’s never pressure to donate. Reading, sharing, or simply being here is more than enough.

If you’d like to support the long, slow work of staying alive, stable, and building this space:
💜 https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-skys-journey-to-health-and-mobility