A Thursday Check-In for the Weeks When Surviving Is Enough

Content Note: This post touches on disability, recovery, chronic illness, exhaustion, grief, and the reality of navigating life when your body doesn’t always cooperate. There are no graphic medical details, but there is honest discussion of healing, loss, and survival.

Welcome back to the Den.

This is The Crippled Cryptid.

And Thursday is the day we leave the porch light on.

Not because everything is fine.

Not because everyone is thriving.

And definitely not because anybody needs to show up here with a polished little report about how wonderfully they’re handling life.

Thursday is for checking in.

For taking a breath.

For asking the question we don’t always get asked often enough:

How are you, really?

This Den has never been just about me.

It started with my stories.

Then came the health updates, the adventures, the writing, the folklore, the dogs, the Bed Jail™ broadcasts, and all the strange little corners that grew around them.

But somewhere along the way…

people started pulling up chairs.

You started telling me about your lives.

Your good days.

Your terrible ones.

Your tiny victories.

Your losses.

Your weird little joys.

Your “I survived today” moments.

And I realized something.

This place isn’t just a blog anymore.

It’s a Den.

And a Den is supposed to have room for people.

So, every Thursday, we check the locks, put the kettle on, make sure the porch light is working, and see how everybody is holding up.

Luna is usually supervising.

She’s very serious about hydration.

Binka is usually doing something that makes absolutely no sense but makes somebody laugh.

M&M is somewhere nearby asking whether everyone has what they need.

The Yard Yeti is probably at Home Base, contributing to the Den through snacks, Wi-Fi, and the occasional deeply questionable commentary.

And me?

I’m here.

Still figuring things out.

Still living in this haunted meat suit.

Still learning that surviving isn’t the same thing as failing.

Still trying to remember that rest counts.

Still writing.

Still laughing.

Still making room.

So… come sit down.

You don’t have to have good news.

You don’t have to have bad news.

You don’t even have to know how you feel yet.

Just be here for a minute.

The porch light is on.

🌿 What’s Carrying Me This Week

Well, here we are.

It’s hard to believe that July 9th was nearly seven weeks ago.

That’s how long it’s been since my foraminotomy.

That’s a weird sentence to write.

Because July 9th somehow feels like yesterday and approximately three geological eras ago at the same time.

And somehow, in that same stretch of time, we’ve also managed to acquire one extremely large puppy-shaped creature who has now been living here for almost as long as I’ve been recovering.

Binka is 13 weeks old today.

Thirteen.

Weeks.

Which means we’re officially starting something I’ve been wanting to do with him:

Weekly growth photos.

Same spot.

Same outfits.

Same basic setup.

Every week.

Because apparently, I have decided that documenting this puppy’s growth is now a scientific endeavor.

And I’m very excited about it.

Can I promise that he’ll be wearing the exact same bandana in every photo?

Sadly, no.

Because while he’s a puppy right now…

What fits him this week may not fit him next week.

Or the week after that.

Or the week after that.

Puppy growth is apparently governed by the ancient laws of:

“Good luck, I guess.”

But that’s okay.

These are the kinds of things you’re going to see documented in Blitzø’s Big Adventure.

In the Cryptid Kennel.

And eventually, with considerably more consistency, on his Instagram, which is also called Blitzø’s Big Adventure.

I really need to post over there more.

And honestly?

This weekly photo project might force me to.

Which is probably a good thing.

Because if I can use “I need to photograph my rapidly expanding puppy” as an excuse to spend more time taking pictures of my dogs… why wouldn’t I?

🌻 Maybe We’re Going to the Market

One of the things I’d really love to do this week is take the puppies to the farmer’s market to see BJ. (Yes, the Yard Yeti is not in fact his legal name.)

The weather is supposed to be nice, with a high around 79°, and Luna absolutely loves going to the farmer’s market to see the Yard Yeti.

And this would be Binka’s first time.

Which makes me want to go even more.

But… we’ll see.

Because this is going to depend on several highly scientific variables:

How’s the weather?

How’s my body feeling?

How much energy do the puppies have?

And perhaps most importantly:

Are the puppies behaving like reasonable members of society, or are they tiny furry agents of chaos?

Because if they’re being wild children, I don’t think I’m going to want to take both of them to the market.

Maybe one.

Maybe neither.

Maybe M&M comes with me and we turn it into a little family outing.

Maybe we get some doggy things.

Maybe we pick up some vegetables for dinner.

Maybe we take everything home and throw something on the grill after BJ has spent the day working the farmer’s market.

Actually…

I really like that idea.

Get up at the ass crack of dawn.

Take the Yard Yeti to the farmer’s market.

Come home, because no way in hell is your ghoul going to get up at 4:30am and stay up at 4:30am… and take a little nap.

Make sure I’ve got something nice pulled out of the freezer for dinner.

Go back later with M&M and the puppies.

Pick up some extra vegetables before the market closes.

Let the dogs sniff around and explore for a little while.

Then head home.

Let the dogs run around in the yard.

Make a nice dinner.

Everybody gets fed.

Everybody gets some fresh air.

Everybody gets a little bit of enrichment.

And I get to spend time with my favorite creatures.

My body may still be healing.

It may still be arguing with me.

It may still occasionally decide that functioning is an optional side quest.

But at least the household will be fed, the dogs will be exercised, and I’ll have done something that feels like living.

Right?

Right.

So, I guess you could say I have some plans this week.

Maybe not huge ones.

But still things I’m looking forward to.

Things like Silo on Friday.

Dinner with the family.

Snuggles with the dogs.

Hopefully more tomatoes from the garden.

Good weather.

Maybe the farmer’s market.

Maybe a little adventure.

And honestly?

Sometimes that’s enough.

🌿 The Little Things Count

This is where I tell you what’s been keeping me upright this week.

Sometimes it’s something enormous.

Sometimes it’s coffee.

Sometimes it’s a person who checked in at exactly the right moment.

Sometimes it’s Luna.

Sometimes it’s Binka doing something so ridiculous that I forget, for five whole minutes, that my body has been arguing with me all day.

Sometimes it’s a good show waiting for me at the end of the day.

Sometimes it’s dinner with family.

Sometimes it’s a dog asleep against my leg.

Sometimes it’s knowing that Thursday is coming.

That there will be a place to sit.

A place to tell the truth.

A place where I don’t have to turn survival into a performance.

That’s important to me.

Because when you’re used to measuring yourself by what you can accomplish, it’s very easy to forget that being here is an accomplishment too.

Rest counts.

Joy counts.

Connection counts.

A tomato from the garden counts.

A puppy doing something stupid enough to make you laugh counts.

Getting out of bed counts.

Staying in bed because your body needed it can count, too.

Whatever is carrying you this week…

I hope you have something.

Even if it’s small.

Especially if it’s small.

🕯️ For the People Who Helped Build Our Childhoods

There are some weeks when the world reminds you that grief doesn’t always arrive because someone you know personally has died.

Sometimes it arrives because someone who helped build your childhood is suddenly gone.

This week, I lost two people I never actually knew.

But I knew their work.

And sometimes…

that’s enough to leave an empty chair.

🌈 Dolly

Dolly Parton died on August 25 at the age of 80.

And I don’t think I’m quite ready to talk about that without getting a little emotional.

Because Dolly wasn’t just a singer.

She was one of those people who somehow existed in the background of childhood, even when you weren’t paying attention to the fact that you were growing up with her.

Her voice.

Her stories.

Her movies.

Her ridiculous amount of sparkle.

Her enormous heart.

And for me, there is one song that will always belong to my Papa.

“Coat of Many Colors.”

My Papa, Richard, loved that song.

And I can still remember him singing it in the van when I was growing up.

That’s the kind of memory that grief can’t take away.

The song isn’t just the song anymore.

It’s my Papa.

It’s being little.

It’s being in the van.

It’s hearing his voice.

It’s a tiny piece of a life that existed before I understood how precious those ordinary moments were.

And that’s one of the strangest things about losing someone whose work has been part of your life for so long.

You don’t just lose the person.

You suddenly realize how many memories have their fingerprints on them.

Dolly’s music carries pieces of my childhood.

And because of that… a little piece of my Papa lives there, too.

So, thank you, Dolly.

For the music.

For the stories.

For the laughter.

For reminding generations of people that kindness and generosity can be powerful things.

And for giving my Papa a song that I will carry for the rest of my life.

Rest easy. 💛

🎈 Tim

And then there’s Tim Curry.

Where do I even begin?

Because Tim Curry was everywhere in my childhood.

IT.

Home Alone 2.

The countless animated movies and television shows where that unmistakable voice would suddenly appear.

The villains.

The weirdos.

The dramatic characters.

The characters who were terrifying.

The characters who were hilarious.

Sometimes the characters who were somehow both.

Tim Curry had one of those voices that you could recognize almost immediately.

He didn’t need to tell you who he was.

You just knew.

And for a kid who grew up loving strange stories, spooky things, fantasy, animation, monsters, villains, and anything even slightly weird…

of course, Tim Curry ended up everywhere.

Of course he did.

He was part of the landscape.

And now he’s gone.

Tim Curry died at 80, leaving behind a career that stretched across stage, film, television, music, and voice acting.

But honestly?

Those credits don’t quite explain what he meant to people like me.

Because when someone has been part of your childhood for that long, their work stops feeling like a filmography.

It becomes memory.

You don’t just remember the actor.

You remember where you were when you watched him.

You remember being a kid.

You remember the things you loved.

You remember the strange little corners of yourself that were being built without you even realizing it.

And there will never be another Tim Curry.

There just won’t.

There will be other brilliant actors.

Other incredible voice performers.

Other people who can play monsters and villains and weird little creatures.

But there will only ever be one Tim Curry.

And I’m incredibly grateful that he got to be part of my childhood.

🕯️ Some People Stay With Us

I think that’s what I’ve been thinking about today.

How much of us is made from people we may never have met.

Artists.

Actors.

Musicians.

Authors.

Characters.

Voices.

People who created something, put it out into the world, and had absolutely no idea that somewhere years later, a kid would grow up carrying it.

Dolly gave my Papa a song.

Tim gave me countless pieces of my childhood.

And now that they’re both gone, I’m realizing just how much of the world they helped create is still living inside me.

That’s a pretty incredible legacy.

So tonight, I’m going to let myself be a little sad.

I’m going to remember.

I’m going to put on some Dolly.

I’m going to think about my Papa singing in that van.

And somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I’ll hear that unmistakable Tim Curry voice again, coming from a television screen in some strange little corner of my childhood.

Because that’s the thing about the people who help build us.

They don’t completely disappear when they die.

Sometimes they become a song.

Sometimes a movie.

Sometimes a voice.

Sometimes a memory of somebody you loved singing in a van.

Sometimes… they become part of the person you grew up to be.

And maybe that’s one of the ways we keep them.

Not by pretending we aren’t sad they’re gone.

But by carrying what they gave us forward.

Thank you, Dolly.

Thank you, Tim.

You helped make the world I grew up in a little stranger, a little brighter, a little funnier, and a whole lot more memorable.

And I’ll carry that with me.

🕯️

🐾 Luna Notes: The Department of Extremely Obvious Things

Luna has requested an announcement.

She has reviewed the situation.

She has determined that some of you are probably dehydrated.

Her official recommendation is as follows:

Drink some water.

Yes.

You.

Luna says you’re probably ignoring this.

She’s probably right.

Take a sip.

Take another.

If plain water is boring, find something you actually like drinking.

Hydration does not have to be a personality test.

Just take care of the body you’re currently living in.

Luna has spoken.

🐾

🐄 Binka’s Reminder: DO HAPPY THING

Binka would like everyone to know that happiness is VERY IMPORTANT.

He has conducted extensive research.

His findings include:

Snacks are good.

Sunbeams are good.

Naps are good.

Wrestling your sister is VERY GOOD.

Being told you’re a good boy is VERY VERY GOOD.

Therefore, Binka would like to remind everyone:

DO ONE THING THIS WEEK THAT MAKES YOU HAPPY.

Not useful.

Not productive.

Not impressive.

Happy.

Read something you love.

Watch a ridiculous movie.

Eat your favorite snack.

Sit somewhere soft.

Play a game.

Go outside and feel the sun.

Pet a dog.

Pet a cat.

Pet yourself emotionally, if that’s what the day requires.

You don’t have to earn joy first.

Sometimes you can just have some.

🐄 Moo Memo:

DO HAPPY THING.

HAPPY IS IMPORTANT.

SNACK MAY BE INVOLVED.

MOO.

🌱 Your Thursday Check-In

Okay.

Enough about us.

Your turn.

How are you?

Really.

Not the automatic “I’m fine.”

Not the version you give somebody because you don’t have the energy to explain.

You can tell me the truth.

You can also keep it simple.

🌱 One word for how you’re feeling:

🌱 One thing that’s been hard:

🌱 One thing that’s helped:

🌱 One tiny victory:

🌱 One thing you’re looking forward to:

And if you don’t have answers for all of those?

That’s okay.

You can just say:

“I’m here.”

That counts.

You count.

This isn’t a performance review.

There are no grades.

Nobody gets kicked out of the Den for having a bad week.

Some weeks we celebrate.

Some weeks we survive.

Some weeks we do both.

Pull up a chair.

Tell us where you’re at.

Or just sit quietly with us.

The porch light is on either way.

Love you, now say it back.

-Sky

© The Crippled Cryptid

Disability. Honesty. Survival without the performance.

🔗 https://linktr.ee/skylanarissa

No pressure to donate. Reading, sharing, and existing alongside me is already enough.

If you want to support the long, unglamorous work of survival and mobility:

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