Pull up a chair. Leave the performance at the door. We’ll take it from here.

Content Note: This week’s Check-In includes discussion of chronic illness, disability, upcoming surgery, medical anxiety, weather-related symptom flares, fireworks, and the ordinary weight of getting through the week. Nothing graphic. Just honest.

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. (Hopefully not for much longer.)

Writer. Advocate. Human being with a medical chart that reads like a horror anthology and somehow keeps getting renewed for another season.

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

I cope with sarcasm, snacks, iced coffee, and building something honest in a world that really prefers things to be tidy, inspirational, and wrapped up with a neat little bow.

This week we’re surviving on Blackberry Peach Liquid I.V., iced coffee, and whatever stubborn little spark keeps deciding we’re not done yet.

Around here in Illinois, it’s been hotter than a dragon’s armpit. Hot coffee has officially been exiled until further notice.

One drink lives in my Mimikyu tumbler.

The other lives in my lavender Stanley.

Hydration in one hand.

Caffeine in the other.

Balance.

…Sort of.

Luna says two beverages are excessive.

I maintain that one is medicine and the other is emotional support.

The coffee has, of course, reached that weird lukewarm stage despite the ice. Illinois chose violence this week, and apparently the sun woke up every morning and decided to take it personally.

I’m also attempting the impossible.

One cup of coffee.

If I don’t at least try, M&M gives me The Look™.

You know the one.

The “I love you very much, but if you vibrate yourself into another migraine I’m going to start hiding the caffeine” look.

So…

We’re trying.

Progress over perfection.

Even if perfection occasionally smells like espresso.

🐾 Luna Note:

Mumther says she is “only having one cup.”

I have heard this before.

I remain… cautiously optimistic.

What This Space Is (And Isn’t)

Thursday has quietly become one of my favorite days of the week around here.

Not because it’s easier.

Not because my body suddenly remembers how to cooperate.

But because Thursdays are quieter.

They ask less of us.

This isn’t a rant.

This isn’t a report.

This isn’t a highlight reel.

This is a check-in.

With me.

With you.

With everyone who’s found their way back to The Den this week.

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

It’s meant to feel like the old cabin at the edge of the woods.

The porch light is always on.

There’s another chair waiting by the fire.

Some weeks we laugh.

Some weeks we tell stories.

Some weeks we sit quietly together while the rain taps against the roof.

Every version belongs here.

No inspiration porn.

No pretending everything happens for a reason.

No medals for suffering in silence.

No pressure to package your pain into something inspirational enough for strangers to consume.

Just honesty.

Even when it’s messy.

Even when it’s awkward.

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

Especially then.

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.

Professional Service Dingo™.

Best Girl™.

Lately…

She’s been hovering.

Not the usual, “Excuse me, I believe it is Snack O’Clock,” hovering.

The intentional kind.

Focused.

Persistent.

Watching me just a little more closely than usual.

Following me from room to room like she’s personally offended by the idea of me being unsupervised.

The kind of presence that quietly says,

“Something isn’t right.”

“I’m staying right here.”

She’s done this before.

Enough times that I’ve learned not to argue with her.

Part of me wonders if some of it is the weather.

Illinois has been throwing thunderstorms, brutal heat, and enough fireworks to convince Luna that humanity has briefly declared war on the sky.

She would very much appreciate it if everyone would… stop doing that.

Give her a quiet evening.

Her favorite ball.

A backyard free of surprise explosions.

And approximately twelve uninterrupted hours of supervising her humans.

That’s her version of paradise.

🐾 Luna Note:

The sky has been making loud boom noises again.

I have filed several formal complaints.

No one appears to be listening.

Customer service has been disappointing.

We’ve also been prepping for 4^th of July with my family.

If you’re reading this…

Luna Bean would also like to formally request that you come visit.

Throw her ball.

Tell her she’s beautiful.

And devote an appropriate amount of your attention to admiring her.

She has decided you’re part of the pack now.

Congratulations.

There is no appeals process.

🐾 Luna Note:

Hypothetically…

If another puppy were ever to appear…

I would obviously teach them only excellent habits.

Like good manners.

Listening.

Sharing toys.

Where Mumther hides the treats.

How to convince the humans to throw the ball forever.

Purely hypothetical.

Obviously.

Then there’s M&M.

My Player 2.

My soft place to land.

The voice of reason that somehow survives living with a professional Cryptid.

Especially lately.

They’re firmly in their “please sit down and stop being stubborn” era.

Which, admittedly, is a full-time position around here.

This heat has been relentless.

The kind that steals your energy before you’ve even finished your morning coffee.

The kind that turns simply existing into an endurance sport.

Meanwhile, M&M has been making sure I actually eat, reminding me to hydrate, and gently redirecting me every time I decide that what my body really needs is “just one more thing.”

They’re also the maker of what has quietly become legendary around here.

Their pineapple upside-down cake.

Extra cherries.

Always extra cherries.

Non-negotiable.

At this point, enough family members have had it that I can confidently say I’m not biased.

It’s genuinely that good.

🐾 Luna Note:

I have been informed pineapple upside-down cake is “not for dogs.”

I disagree with this policy.

I intend to continue lobbying for change.

Lately I’ve been thinking about something.

That instinct.

The one that whispers,

“Just push through it.”

“Just finish this one thing.”

“You can rest later.”

That voice kept me alive once.

When surviving meant ignoring my body because there wasn’t another option.

When I had to grit my teeth through things that probably should have stopped me in my tracks.

I’m grateful to that version of me.

She got us here.

But survival isn’t supposed to be a permanent address.

It’s meant to be a bridge.

Not a home.

I’m trying to learn the difference.

Some days I still fail spectacularly.

Some days I catch myself halfway through trying to reorganize a room my body absolutely did not authorize.

Some days M&M catches me first.

Some days Luna does.

Sometimes they tag-team the operation.

Honestly?

They’re usually right.

So let me say this as much for myself as for anyone reading.

Don’t let me confuse surviving with living.

And don’t let yourself do it either.

Rest isn’t quitting.

Slowing down isn’t failure.

Listening to your body isn’t weakness.

It’s one of the bravest things some of us will ever learn to do.

Even old Cryptids can learn new tricks.

I promise.

The Actual Check-In

Alright.

No dodging.

No hiding behind “I’m fine, but…”

No escape hatches.

If I don’t get to use them…

Neither do you.

So…

How are you doing?

Really.

Not the answer you’d give a stranger at the grocery store.

Not the one you’d tell your coworker because it’s easier.

The real one.

If you have a second…

Pause with me.

Relax your jaw, if it’ll let you.

Let your shoulders drop a little, if they’re willing.

Take a sip of water if you’ve got some nearby.

Shift into a position that’s a little kinder to your body.

No pressure.

No gold stars.

No performance review.

Just one small act of kindness toward yourself.

I’ll wait.

🐾 Luna Note:

Hydration check.

Yes.

You.

If Mumther has to hear about drinking enough water…

…so do you.

This is a professionally supervised reminder.

Now go take a sip.

I’ll wait too.

(I’m very good at waiting.)

If the big question feels too heavy today…

Try something smaller.

🌿 One word for today.

🌿 One thing your body needs.

🌿 One thing you made it through.

That’s enough.

It all counts.

If your body feels especially loud today, try noticing five things you can physically feel.

The fabric against your skin.

The chair beneath you.

Cool air.

Warm sunlight.

The weight of your blanket.

Your feet on the floor.

You don’t have to fix anything right now.

You don’t have to solve your entire life before dinner.

Just notice.

Sometimes that’s enough to remind our nervous systems that we’re here.

That we’re safe.

That we’ve made it through another day.

And if all you’ve got today is,

“I showed up.”

I’m counting that too.

Where I’m At

Around the House

Things have actually been… okay.

Which is a sentence I almost don’t trust myself to say out loud.

Because the last time I said things were going well, the old refrigerator in the back room apparently overheard me and decided it was finally time to retire.

On the first truly miserable, scorching hot day of the year.

Of course it did.

Because if household appliances have a sense of humor, mine is incredibly committed to the bit.

Thankfully, the replacement showed up yesterday.

Everything has already been moved back in.

Nothing thawed that couldn’t be saved. Or if it did, we cried and moved on.

The crisis has officially been downgraded from “catastrophe” to “well… that was annoying.”

I’ll take that win.

At this point, I’m mostly hoping Illinois decides we’ve suffered enough.

No more brownouts.

No surprise storms.

No heat indexes that make opening the front door feel like walking into a dragon’s mouth.

Just… maybe let us coast for a little while.

I don’t think that’s asking for too much.

(Weather, if you’re reading this… please don’t take that as a challenge.)

🐾 Luna Note:

The new cold food box appears acceptable.

It makes pawpsicles.

My frozen treats remain secure.

Five stars.

Around My Body

The bigger thing sitting quietly in the corner of my brain is next week.

July 9th.

Surgery.

Even typing that still feels strange.

It’s one of those dates that starts out feeling impossibly far away.

Until one morning you wake up and realize…

…it’s next week.

Naming it makes it real.

Pretending it isn’t coming doesn’t stop the calendar.

So here we are.

Doing the only thing we really can.

Preparing.

I’m getting ready for the Fourth of July, when family will be over.

Cleaning the house a little at a time.

Making lists.

Double-checking appointments.

Trying to tie up all the little loose ends that always seem to multiply before anything medical.

And quietly preparing myself for what comes after.

The blog is about to enter Low Power Mode™.

Don’t worry.

I’m not disappearing.

I’ve already been working ahead.

There are posts waiting patiently in the wings.

Luna has been informed she’ll be taking on increased supervisory responsibilities.

And I fully intend to become one with whichever soft surface my body decides is the Official Recovery Headquarters™.

Probably the bed.

Possibly the couch.

Potentially both.

Recovery isn’t exactly known for respecting seating arrangements.

🐾 Luna Note:

Recovery Plan has been reviewed.

Primary objectives include:

✔ Keep Mumther seated.

✔ Prevent unnecessary nonsense.

✔ Increase cuddle frequency.

✔ Conduct routine wellness inspections.

✔ Remind everyone that naps are medically important.

I take this responsibility very seriously.

My body, meanwhile, has been doing what it always does when Illinois starts throwing weather tantrums.

Pressure shifts.

Headaches.

That familiar background hum that says,

“Something’s changing.”

It’s exhausting.

Not dramatic.

Not catastrophic.

Just…

Relentless.

Then add ninety-degree weather on top of it.

Because apparently the atmosphere looked at my nervous system and thought,

“Let’s make this interesting.”

Nothing about heat, humidity, migraines, POTS, or connective tissue disorders has ever been a particularly successful combination.

So, I’ve been trying to extend myself a little more grace than usual.

Trying being the key word.

Some days I manage it.

Some days I remember halfway through scrubbing a countertop that maybe this didn’t need to happen today.

Progress.

Not perfection.

I keep reminding myself that recovery from surgery doesn’t begin after surgery.

It begins now.

With the choices I make before I ever walk into the operating room.

That’s the lesson I’m trying to carry into next week.

Not how much I can accomplish.

Not how much I can endure.

Just…

How gently I can treat the body that’s carrying me there.

For You, Wherever You’re At

Enough about me.

Let’s come back to you.

If this week has been kicking your ass…

I see you.

If you’re barely holding it together…

That still counts as holding it together.

If you’ve cried more than you’d planned to…

If you’re exhausted.

If you’re grieving.

If you’re angry.

If you’re quietly celebrating something you haven’t figured out how to put into words yet…

There’s room for all of it here.

The Den was never built only for hard days.

Joy belongs here too.

So does relief.

So does hope.

So does the weird little happiness that comes from finding the perfect tomato at the farmer’s market or finally getting your laundry folded.

Small victories are still victories.

They deserve celebrating too.

Whatever today looks like for you…

You don’t have to earn your place here.

You already have one.

🐾 Luna Note:

Pack status update.

Everyone accounted for.

If you’re reading this…

Congratulations.

You’re included.

No wandering off without telling somebody.

Those are the rules.

The Door Is Open

If you’ve made it this far…

Thanks for spending a little piece of your Thursday with me.

Whether you nodded along.

Laughed at Luna.

Rolled your eyes at my inability to leave things alone.

Or quietly read every word without saying a thing.

I’m glad you’re here.

Really.

If you want to talk, my DMs are always open.

Not because I think I have all the answers.

I absolutely do not.

But because sometimes people don’t need answers.

Sometimes they just need someone willing to sit beside them for a little while.

No pressure.

No expectations.

No obligation to explain yourself.

If all you’ve got today is dropping a couple of 🐾 emojis in the comments because words feel too heavy…

That counts too.

My camera roll currently contains an irresponsible number of sleepy Luna photos.

And Luna with her ball, obviously.

I am more than willing to deploy them in the name of emotional support.

No essay required.

Just say the word.

Or don’t.

Sometimes being here is enough.

Before you head back out into the woods…

I want you to remember something.

The Den isn’t special because of me.

It’s special because of all of us.

Every comment.

Every story.

Every little “me too.”

Every celebration.

Every hard week.

Every time someone chooses honesty instead of pretending they’re fine.

You built this place with me.

Board by board.

Story by story.

Week by week.

And every Thursday, we get to come back here and remember that none of us are doing this alone.

That means more to me than I know how to put into words.

🌙 Before You Wander Back Into the Woods…

A few things I’d like you to carry with you this week.

🌿 Drink the water.

🌿 Eat something if your body will let you.

🌿 Rest before your body has to beg for it.

🌿 Existing is enough.

🌿 Small victories still count.

🌿 You do not have to earn your place here.

🌿 Someone is quietly glad you’re still here.

🐾 Luna’s amendment:

If possible…

Throw the ball.

If no ball is available…

Please locate an acceptable substitute.

I have been advised this clause is “not legally binding.”

I respectfully disagree.

🐾 Luna’s Official Assessment

Household Status: Stable.

Hydration: Improving.

Coffee Consumption: Closely monitored.

Mumther’s Stubbornness: Higher than recommended.

Fireworks: Zero stars. Would not recommend.

Upcoming Surgery: Under enhanced supervision.

Overall Pack Morale: Good.

Needs more naps.

Needs more snacks.

Needs fewer weather-related shenanigans.

Guardian Rating

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

12/10.

Hovering successfully completed.

Will absolutely hover again.

Follow-up recommendations:

• More rest.

• More water.

• More supervised existence.

• At least seventeen additional games of fetch.

• Continued observation of Mumther until further notice.

Thank you for checking in with me this week.

The porch light will be on next Thursday, too.

Until then…

Be gentle with yourself.

Let other people be gentle with you, too.

You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.

You never did.

With love,

-Sky

“The Den is still here.

And so are you.

I think that’s worth celebrating.”

© The Crippled Cryptid

Disability. Honesty. A little chaos.

(But softer today.)

🔗 https://linktr.ee/skylanarissa

There is never any pressure to donate.

Reading.

Sharing.

Commenting.

Or simply pulling up a chair each week is more than enough.

If you’d like to support the long, slow work of staying alive, healing well, and keeping this little porch light on for others, you can do that here:

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