Storms, Survival Habits, and Other Things We Carry Together

Content Note: Discussion of chronic illness, disability, chronic pain, migraines, severe weather, storm damage, medical trauma, and recovery from pet surgery.

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.

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, coffee, and Cherry Coke.

Which may as well be a spiritual experience, honestly.

The coffee’s gone, because of course it is. I’m a caffeine-dependent lifeform doing my best to stick to one cup today. (If I don’t, M&M gets testy.)

But Thursdays are quieter.

And lately, I’ve been thinking about how important that is.

Not the quiet itself.

The pause.

The chance to stop performing for a minute and just exist.

So that’s what we’re doing today.

Pull up a chair.

Sit with me a while.

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.

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™.

Lately… she’s been hovering.

Healing.

Today is officially Day #11 post-spay, and let me tell you, she has not let me forget it.

Because the vet told us she wasn’t allowed to play for fourteen days, and I don’t think she’s going to let me keep the balls in jail for a second past that fourteen-day mark.

No matter how much I might want to.

🐾 Luna Note:

I have been informed that healing is more important than tennis balls.

I have requested a second opinion.

🐾

Between Illinois’ chaotic weather and trying to keep the tiny ball gremlin in check, things have been a little hectic.

Yesterday’s surprise storm spooked Luna Bean.

Not only that, but it took out part of two different trees in our yard.

One tree that was damaged when the pine fell during the last storm got hit again.

Another lost a large branch on the opposite side of the yard.

The universe apparently looked at our landscaping and chose violence.

Then there was the umbrella.

Or rather, the umbrella that used to live on our deck.

The wind picked it up and relocated it to the neighbor’s yard.

Two broken arms.

Questionable future.

Potential scrap metal.

We haven’t decided yet.

🐾 Luna Note:

The weather attacked the yard.

I barked at it.

You’re welcome.

🐾

If you’re out there reading this, Luna requests that you somehow convince me to stop being such a strict ball warden.

Even if you try, it isn’t going to work.

Not this time.

She’s serving the full sentence.

We want proper healing.

No infections.

No torn stitches.

No nonsense.

No matter how much she wants us to believe she’s completely recovered.

🐾 Luna Note:

Ball restrictions remain cruel and unusual.

I am documenting everything.

🐾

She has decided you’re part of her world now.

Then there’s M&M.

My Player 2.

My soft place to land.

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

That might be directed at both me and Luna.

And here’s the truth I keep circling back to:

That instinct.

That “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.

Storms Outside, Storms Inside

Maybe that’s part of why I wanted to write this today.

The weather outside has been loud.

Trees coming down.

Umbrellas attempting flight.

Power flickering.

The kind of chaos that demands your attention.

But sometimes the storms inside us are quieter than that.

Sometimes they’re migraines.

Sometimes they’re grief.

Sometimes they’re exhaustion so deep you can’t find words for it.

And sometimes all you can do is sit with it for a while and remember that surviving doesn’t always have to look heroic.

Sometimes surviving looks like drinking water.

Taking your meds.

Canceling plans.

Resting when every instinct in your body is screaming at you to keep going.

And maybe that’s enough.

Maybe it always was.

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:

If you are not drinking water, I will escalate.

This is a formal warning.

🐾

I’ll wait.

If the big question feels like too much, try this instead:

• One word for today

• One thing your body needs

• One thing you made it through

That counts.

It all counts.

If your body feels loud right now, try naming five things you can feel.

Fabric.

Air.

Weight.

Warmth.

Something solid beneath you.

You don’t have to fix anything.

Just notice.

Where I’m At

Well.

Just when I thought Illinois weather was done being Illinois weather…

The universe laughed at me.

Yesterday was supposed to be simple.

Discount Tire.

The pharmacy.

A couple errands.

Then home.

A quiet day.

A manageable day.

The humidity and heat have already been making my migraines, leg pain, and CRPS act up.

That was enough excitement for one day.

Or so I thought.

Around four in the afternoon, what was supposed to be a little rain turned into a full-blown chaos event.

Thunder.

Lightning.

Rain.

Wind.

The kind of wind that had Luna barking at the air like someone was trying to break into the house.

The power flickered on and off enough times that I wound up reporting the outage to ComEd.

Later, we learned that light poles in Round Lake had literally snapped at the base.

Which explains a lot.

Then M&M and I went upstairs to close the dog door and secure the deck umbrella.

Only we couldn’t find the umbrella.

Because it wasn’t on the deck anymore.

The Yard Yeti launched a search operation.

Approximately three and a half seconds later we discovered that the umbrella had attempted flight and crash-landed in the neighbor’s yard.

Thankfully nobody got hurt.

No houses got hit.

No dogs got launched into orbit.

Just the umbrella.

Its dreams were bigger than its structural integrity.

As for the yard…

One elephant ear tree lost a large section.

The other elephant ear tree, the one that already got smacked by the pine tree during a previous storm, got hit again.

That poor tree cannot catch a break.

But all the humans are safe.

The dog is safe.

And at the end of the day, that’s what matters.

The nostalgia can survive.

The memories can survive.

The people and animals we love are what count.

We’ve got a week of heat, storms, and humidity ahead of us.

I’d still like to know when Illinois quietly transformed into Florida.

Nobody asked me.

At the same time, my body is doing its usual weather-related rebellion.

Pressure shifts.

Headaches.

That constant background thrum.

The rest of the week has mostly been the come-down from all of it.

Add in dyeing my hair in the middle of the night because Nurtec decided to stop helping and it was too soon to take another one…

And that’s about where I’m at.

But Luna?

Luna is doing wonderfully.

Today is Day #11 post-spay.

And I have nothing but really good things to say.

The veterinary team took incredible care of her.

After the first couple of days, she didn’t need pain medication anymore.

She hasn’t needed a cone or surgery suit.

Like… at all.

Her bandage came off Monday.

She isn’t picking.

She isn’t scratching.

She’s healing beautifully.

I did put a lightweight sweater on her because with part of her tummy shaved, she’s had a harder time regulating her temperature moving between air conditioning and outdoor heat.

Nothing heavy.

Nothing winter-grade.

Just something comfortable.

And if I think for even a second that she’s getting too warm, it’ll come right back off.

Because we all know by now:

This cryptid does not play about the Luna Bean.

That dog is a little piece of my heart and soul that lives outside my body.

And I am incredibly lucky she’s mine.

🐾 Luna Note:

The sweater is acceptable.

This statement should not be interpreted as mock enthusiasm.

🐾

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.

Even if you don’t have the words today.

You still showed up.

And that matters more than people give it credit for.

🐾 Luna Note:

If you’re reading this, congratulations.

You are now Pack.

There is no paperwork.

🐾

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, devastatingly cute Luna photos this week.

No words required.

🐾 Luna’s Official Assessment

Pack accounted for.

Weather suspicious.

Humans slightly stressed.

Cryptid moderately caffeinated.

Recovery progressing according to schedule.

Ball privileges remain unjustly revoked.

Further negotiations have failed.

Monitoring continues.

🐾

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 is never any pressure to donate. Reading, sharing, lurking quietly in The Den, or simply staying another day is already more than enough.

If you’d like to support the long, slow work of staying alive, stable, and still wandering when I can:

💜 https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-skys-journey-to-health-and-mobility

Pack accounted for. You’re included. 🐾💜