Content Note: Chronic illness, disability, medical discussion, survival language, emotional overwhelm, medical anxiety, and discussion of upcoming veterinary surgery. Gentle grounding included.

Welcome to The Den

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.
Writer. Advocate. Human being with a medical chart that reads like a horror anthology.

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

🐾 Luna Note: Mama continues to make enemies out of organs. Monitoring situation closely.

I cope with sarcasm, snacks, and building something honest in a world that really prefers things to be tidy and inspirational.

This week?

We’re running on electrolytes, as usual. It’s getting warm here in Illinois, and that means we stay hydrated. But I’m also getting emotionally attached to the new Sprite + Tea. It’s becoming a personality trait at this point. There are currently empty cans on my nightstand like tiny aluminum emotional support goblins.

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.

🐾 Luna Note: Gold stars should instead be awarded for hydration and surviving medical appointments without crying in parking lots.

Just honesty.

Even when it’s messy.
Even when it’s a little feral around the edges.

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™. Best Girl™.

Fully embracing her life as a Jeep Dog™.

Loving every single one of her car rides and living for the moment her harness jingles because that means we’re going somewhere.

Lately… she’s been hovering.

The way she always does when she knows something before I do.

Not the usual “I would like a snack” hovering.

The kind that feels intentional. Focused. Persistent.

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

The kind of presence that says:

“Something’s not right, and I’m not letting you ignore it.”

🐾 Luna Note: Attempted to escort Mama to bed. Mumther resisted. This is a recurring issue.

She’s been right before.

(Annoyingly often.)

Part of me thinks she doesn’t think I’ve been sitting down or hydrating enough. She might be right. She’s always right. But don’t tell her I said that.

Then there’s M&M.

My Player 2. My soft place to land.

Currently in their “please sit down and stop being stubborn” era.

She keeps reminding me that I don’t need to do everything and be everywhere at once.

I, unfortunately, remain deeply committed to pretending I do.

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 survival habit from me.
Even if I’m still learning how to put it down.

Even old Cryptids can learn new tricks.

I promise. I’m trying.

🐾 Luna Note: Current tricks in progress include: resting voluntarily, sitting down before dizziness happens, and accepting help without acting haunted about it.

Maybe that’s part of why this week feels so strange.

Not because everything is magically fixed.
Not because my body suddenly decided to stop being haunted.

But because I’m starting to understand that survival and softness are allowed to exist in the same room together.

The Actual Check-In

Alright.

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

If it doesn’t work for me, it’s not going to work for you either.

So, tell me:

How are you doing… really?

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.

In for four.
Hold.
Out for six.

Again.

Unclench your jaw.
Drop your shoulders.
Get some water.

🐾 Luna Note: Human hydration status remains suspicious. Please hydrate alongside the Cryptid.

I’ll wait.

Where I’m At

I get to say it.

I’m having a good week.

I know how strange that sounds coming from me lately.

After so many posts where I’ve admitted I was struggling, it almost feels dangerous to say out loud that things are… okay right now. Like I’m tempting fate. Like the universe is crouched somewhere in the woods waiting to hear me say it too confidently.

But it feels good to say it anyway.

And honestly?

I like saying that I’m having a good week.

I like knowing that the people who love me get to hear those words too.

I love getting to say that I actually have the space and energy to know my family outside of survival mode. (Because, you know what? They’re actually pretty cool.)

I love getting to know my car.

The Jeep still smells faintly like dog treats, iced coffee, and freedom.

I love being able to take Luna with me wherever we need to go, even if it’s just a quick pharmacy run with the windows down and warm Illinois air moving through the car while her ears flap dramatically like she’s in a movie about cornfields and survival.

I like getting to go to the pharmacy when I need to go without worrying about hearing “no” because my anti-seizure medications are considered a “controlled substance,” or because somebody else failed to do their job correctly.

I like knowing that on Saturday, I’ll be able to go to the food bank without depending on someone else for transportation. No waiting. No canceled rides. No spending sixty dollars on an Uber just to get groceries.

🐾 Luna Note: Vehicle access has dramatically improved snack acquisition efficiency.

And on Tuesday, I finally got Luna Bean’s spay scheduled.

Honestly?

I’m nervous.

I know she’ll be in good hands. I trust her vet completely. But I’m also the kind of person who reads every possible complication list at two in the morning while emotionally preparing for events that haven’t happened.

So yes. She’s getting all the extras.

Take-home antibiotics.
Laser treatments.
Pain medication.

And instead of just a cone, I ordered her a surgery suit from Amazon because I know my dog well enough to understand that public humiliation would damage her emotionally more than the surgery itself.

🐾 Luna Note: I have been informed there will be “recovery time.” I reject this concept spiritually. Especially because it means no ball.

I don’t think she’s going to appreciate discovering she can’t immediately resume full-speed yard patrols afterward.

But this matters.

Luna needs her spay.

The neighbor’s beagle has officially entered his obsessive Romeo era, and absolutely nobody needs that situation to escalate. It’s bad enough that they don’t watch him, and he’s always yowling in our front yard.

Before you ask, yes, we’ve tried talking to them about it. They just laugh it off and say that they “try” to keep him tied up but he escapes. You’d think that they would put up a fence or watch him better. They don’t. And no, calling animal control doesn’t help either- I live in an unincorporated area, by the time the animal control shows up, he’s back in their own yard, or he’s run off somewhere else. Timestamped photos and videos supposedly “aren’t good enough.” And even though he’s not friendly to other humans, or animals, unless we have an active dog bite to show- they’re refusing to do anything.

We’ve asked. We’re frustrated.

We do not want puppies.

Not because puppies are bad, but because Luna doesn’t need that stress, and not every dog needs to become a mother. There are already too many dogs sitting in shelters waiting for their forever homes.

And realistically?

An Australian Cattle Dog and a beagle would probably create tiny, unstoppable cryptids powered entirely by chaos and medical bills.

Not to mention the impact it could have on her career as a service dog.

And let’s face it…

Luna loves her job.

She picked it out all on her own.

I didn’t thrust the service dog vest on her one day and decide that this was her calling. She started alerting to migraines and seizures all on her own like a tiny cryptid guardian.

I don’t want to let the neighbors risk that. Especially when I know they won’t help fund the puppies, especially when they cannot be bothered to keep this beagle out of my yard.

So, this is important.

Necessary.
Responsible.
Still nerve-wracking.

I’m leaving her wishlist here because some of you asked about recovery supplies, and honestly, it helps knowing she’ll have enrichment stuff during downtime. Lick mats, calming chews, boredom breakers, little things to keep her brain busy while her body rests.

Thankfully we still have Bear’s stairs for the bed, when and if she needs them.

🐾 Luna Note: Tiny staircase remains operational. Dignity status uncertain.

And yes, her crate is set back up with blankies and stuffies just in case she wants her own quiet recovery cave. But honestly? Despite a few sniffs and wandering in and out once or twice, she’s turned her tail up at it and chosen the bed every time.

Our sassy girl would rather sleep with us.

Even though she also has:

• three other dog beds,
• the couch upstairs,
• my bed,
• M&M’s side of the bed,
• and the giant dog bed in the back room,
• plus the Yard Yeti’s bed.

She’s basically running a small mattress empire at this point.

Her surgery is set for June 3rd, so if any of you have spay recovery tips, genuinely send them my way. I will absolutely accept advice from experienced dog parents.

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 feel heavy, you don’t have to carry it alone here.

And if things are good?

You’re allowed to say that too.

Without guilt.
Without apology.

There is room for all of it here.

Even if you don’t have the words today.

You still showed up.

And honestly? 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.

If all you’ve got is a couple pawprint emojis because you need some extra Luna love?

I’ve got you.

I am fully stocked on soft, sleepy, absolutely devastatingly cute Luna photos this week.

No words required.

And if that isn’t your flavor of choice, you know I have photos of the baby ball goblin doing her thing after her Adoptiversary on the 11th, chasing her new ball like it owes her money. Toddling around after us while we plant the garden and tend the plants, and of course, her car rides.

🐾 Luna Note: Pack accounted for. Everyone breathe a little easier tonight.

The Den’s still here.

So am I.

So are you.

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.

-Sky

© The Crippled Cryptid
Disability. Honesty. A little chaos.
(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