On unexpected community, homemade dinners, the heartbreak of endings, and the little rituals that make a life.

Content Note: Chronic illness and disability, food insecurity, community food assistance, and the bittersweet feelings that come with a beloved television series approaching its end. This is primarily a cozy community check-in, with some heavier feelings tucked between the softer moments. Please take care of yourself while reading. 💜

🏡 Welcome Back to the Den

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.

Biscuits is probably somewhere he isn’t supposed to be, wondering why the entire household hasn’t stopped what they’re doing to admire him.

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: Finding Community in Unexpected Places

I’ve been thinking a lot about community lately.

Not the kind that exists because somebody decided to put a label on it.

Not the kind that requires you to belong to a particular group, believe particular things, or fit yourself into a neat little box before you’re allowed through the door.

I’m talking about the kind that happens when people show up for each other.

The kind that grows slowly, sometimes without anyone noticing until one day you realize that these people have become part of your life.

And this week gave me another reason to appreciate that.

🍲 A Seat at the Table

This was the first week that M&M and I got to volunteer at the food pantry on both Friday and Saturday, rather than just Fridays.

Normally, Saturday comes with its own set of logistics because the Yard Yeti is busy at the farmer’s market. But this week, my older brother was able to give him a ride on Saturday afternoon.

So, I dropped BJ off in the morning, came home, took a nap, and then, instead of heading back out to pick him up, M&M and I packed up our things and went to volunteer.

And honestly?

I’m so happy we did.

One of the ladies from the mosque made us dinner.

Homemade dinner.

And it was wonderful.

I want to say it was quinoa with chicken and curry spices, along with a bread I’d never had before that had spices and chocolate in it.

I might be getting some of those details slightly wrong because I was busy enjoying the food, but I know one thing for certain:

M&M has not stopped talking about that bread all week.

We’re going to see if we can find it online so we can try to recreate it ourselves or find a Middle Eastern market nearby that sells it.

Because apparently, we have a new culinary quest.

And honestly, I’m here for it.

But what made that meal special wasn’t just the food.

It was the kindness behind it.

Someone took the time to make something homemade and share it with us. It made us feel welcome. It made us feel appreciated. And it was one of those small moments that reminds you how much a little kindness can mean.

We were there to volunteer, to give our time, and to help where we could.

And someone made sure we were fed, too.

There’s something really beautiful about that.

After this week, we’re going to start volunteering both Fridays and Saturdays regularly because the Saturday farmer’s markets will be finished for the year.

I’m looking forward to it.

And that brings me to something I’ve been wanting to talk about for a while.

💜 How Strangers Become Your People

Honestly, I think volunteering at the food pantry is one of the best things we’ve ever done.

I love going every week.

Even on the weeks when I’m exhausted, my body is throwing a fit, and I’m not feeling particularly great.

Even when getting out the door requires a little extra negotiating with the haunted meat suit.

I love seeing the people I’ve gotten used to seeing.

The people I’ve made friends with.

The people whose preferences I know.

The people I can ask about their kids, their pets, and how they’ve been doing throughout the week.

The same way I check in with all of you here.

And here’s the thing.

A couple of those people now follow me here, too.

Which I think is pretty fucking cool, if we’re being honest with ourselves.

Because that’s how community happens sometimes.

You show up somewhere.

You talk to someone.

You remember something they told you last week.

You ask how their kid is doing.

You remember what their pet’s name is.

And eventually, the person who was once a stranger becomes someone you’re genuinely happy to see.

There’s no grand ceremony.

Nobody hands you a certificate announcing that you’ve officially become part of each other’s lives.

It just happens.

And I think that’s one of the loveliest things about being human.

Especially when life has spent a lot of time making you feel isolated.

Especially when you’re disabled, chronically ill, struggling financially, or just trying to get through the week without your entire existence becoming a logistical nightmare.

Sometimes community doesn’t arrive through the front door.

Sometimes it sneaks in through a food pantry, a shared meal, a familiar face, or someone remembering to ask how you’re doing.

Sometimes it starts because you needed help.

And sometimes, without realizing it, you become part of the place that helps other people, too.

🌱 Sometimes You Have to Find a Different Door

There’s a little more to this story.

We didn’t originally go to this food pantry.

We started going after the one we’d been visiting began going downhill.

The food we were receiving was increasingly spoiled or completely inedible.

I’m not talking about something being a little past its date. Or a bakery item a day or two past it’s “sell by” date on the package.

I’m talking about vegetables turning to goo inside the boxes they came in.

Food that was more mold than vegetable.

Food that needed to be thrown away rather than eaten.

Something that probably should have come with a biohazard sticker on it.

And that’s not okay.

It’s something I didn’t talk about because, I didn’t want to sound like I wasn’t grateful, and I didn’t want to sound like I was being greedy.

People who need assistance deserve food they can actually use. They deserve dignity. They deserve to be able to bring groceries home without having to sort through everything wondering what might be safe to eat.

Food assistance should help take a burden off someone’s shoulders.

It shouldn’t leave them with another problem to solve.

Then, one day, I saw a post in one of the Buy Nothing groups we’re part of.

One of the volunteers we’d come to love dearly had posted about the food pantry we’re now attending.

They were welcoming everyone.

All ages.

All races.

All religions.

All backgrounds.

All you had to do was show up and need the assistance.

That was it.

So, we went.

We made friends with one of the ladies.

We kept coming back.

And eventually, we started volunteering there ourselves.

Now, I can’t imagine it any other way.

Because the people there have become part of our lives.

And I think that’s worth talking about.

We live in a world that often wants to turn everything into an argument about who deserves help.

Who should receive it.

Who should be allowed through the door.

Who has done enough to earn a little kindness.

And yet, here is this place where people from different walks of life come together because people need to eat.

Where someone can show up needing groceries and leave having made a friend.

Where someone who came looking for help can eventually come back to help someone else.

Where a woman from the mosque can make a homemade dinner for volunteers, and one of those volunteers can spend the following week trying to track down the recipe for the bread because her girlfriend loved it so much.

I don’t know about you, but I think there’s something worth protecting in that.

Community isn’t always something we build by agreeing on everything. Sometimes we build it by making sure there’s room at the table.

And sometimes the best thing we can do is make sure the door stays open.

I’m grateful we found ours.

I’m grateful for the people we’ve met.

And I’m grateful that, in a world that can feel awfully cruel sometimes, we’ve found a place where kindness is something we get to practice every week.

That’s what’s carrying me this week.

Not because everything is easy.

But because I’m reminded that we’re not meant to do everything alone.

📺 A Little Heartbreak From the Couch

Unfortunately, not everything has been sunshine, homemade dinner, and exciting new bread discoveries.

I also have something bringing me down this week.

And I know this isn’t something I normally throw into our Thursday Check-Ins, but I’m kind of a crybaby when it comes to my comfort shows ending.

There. I said it.

I’m emotionally attached to fictional characters, and I refuse to apologize for it.

Yesterday, Wednesday, M&M, the Yard Yeti, and I gathered around the television to watch the final episodes of this season of Helluva Boss with hotdogs and mac and cheese. Or… this part of the season at least. Because they decided to split the season up into strange parts now that it’s on Amazon Prime.

And now we’re done until the next season.

Which is heartbreaking for two reasons.

First, I love this show.

Second, there’s only one more season after this.

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

Especially when we don’t know how the season is going to end yet, and you know me… I don’t spoil TV for people. So, how can I go and make a Bed Jail™ Broadcast about something that’s only partially finished?

🎭 The Particular Heartbreak of Knowing the End Is Coming

If you’ve ever had a favorite show end, you probably understand what I mean.

And I’m not talking about a show getting canceled.

That hurts, too. There’s a particular kind of heartbreak that comes with knowing a story you love isn’t going to get the ending it deserved, or that you’ll never get the answers you were waiting for.

But there’s another kind of heartbreak that comes with a show ending because it was always supposed to.

The story has a destination.

The people telling it know where they’re going.

And eventually, they’re going to get there.

When a showrunner tells you there are only two seasons left, you know what that means.

You start watching differently.

You pay attention to things you might have overlooked before.

You appreciate the little moments because you know there are only so many left.

You realize that the characters you’ve spent years getting attached to won’t be around forever.

And even though you want them to get the ending they deserve, you also desperately want more time with them.

It’s a strange contradiction.

You want the story to finish.

You just don’t want to say goodbye.

And we’re right there in the middle of those final two seasons now.

One more season after this.

And then…

That’s it.

No more new episodes.

No more gathering around the television to see what happens next.

No more waiting for the next installment of a story that’s become part of our lives.

And yes, I know they’re fictional characters.

I know I can rewatch the episodes.

I know the show will still exist.

That doesn’t mean I won’t miss it.

Stories matter.

The things we love matter.

And sometimes, a television show becomes more than entertainment because of the memories we make while watching it.

Which brings me to the part that’s making this a little easier.

🛋️ It’s Never Just About the Show

Every week, we make a good dinner, gather around the television, occasionally yell at the screen, and enjoy some family time together.

Sometimes we’re laughing.

Sometimes we’re arguing about what just happened.

Sometimes we’re all emotionally compromised by animated demons.

It’s a whole thing.

And even though knowing the end is coming makes me sad, I wouldn’t trade those evenings for anything.

Because I love TV night with my family.

Even this week, with the Yard Yeti sick, the ritual still matters.

It’s something we look forward to.

Something we share.

Something that gives us a reason to put everything else down for a little while and be together.

Which is why we’re going to start trying to bully BJ back into Supernatural nights with us again.

Affectionately, of course.

Mostly.

Because we used to love gathering around the television to watch Supernatural together, and I’d really like to bring that back.

There’s something comforting about returning to a story you already know.

You know the characters.

You know the world.

You know the moments that are going to make you laugh, the moments that are going to hurt, and the moments when you want to reach through the screen and shake someone.

You get to experience all of it again, this time with the people sitting beside you.

And honestly, when you think about it, our household has developed a bit of a pattern.

Luna is named Luna. If you’ve seen the show… you know that there’s a Loona… and we love her.

Yes, she came with her name, and yes, we’re in the Helluva Boss fandom, so even though it’s spelled differently, we’re counting it.

We named Blitzø after Blitzø, of course.

And then there’s the kitten.

Cheddar Bay Biscuits.

Whose actual name is Castiel, after Supernatural.

But one of his nicknames is Mew-cifer, which is very Hellaverse adjacent.

Even if we call him Biscuits approximately 99.999999% of the time.

Apparently, our household naming conventions are just fandom references wearing disguises.

At this point, I’m not sure we should be trusted with another animal.

But that’s a problem for another day.

For now, I’m going to enjoy the shows we have, appreciate the time we get with them, and try not to think too hard about the inevitable endings.

And maybe, just maybe, we’ll get our Supernatural nights back.

Because sometimes, when one story is winding down, it’s nice to return to another one.

And sometimes the best part of loving a story isn’t just the story itself.

It’s the people sitting beside you while you watch it.

🌿 What’s Carrying You This Week?

I’ve talked a lot about what’s been carrying me this week.

The food pantry.

The people we’ve met.

A homemade dinner.

The little routines that keep our family connected.

And the stories we share around the television.

But I want to hear about you, too.

Because that’s what this space is for.

Sometimes what carries us is something enormous.

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

Sometimes it’s a meal someone made for us.

Sometimes it’s a friend who remembers the details.

Sometimes it’s the knowledge that we’ll see familiar faces again next week.

Sometimes it’s our pets, doing whatever ridiculous thing they do that makes us laugh despite ourselves.

And sometimes it’s simply knowing that Thursday is coming.

That there will be a place to sit.

A place to tell the truth.

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

Whatever is carrying you this week, I hope you have something.

Even if it’s small.

Especially if it’s small.

You don’t have to have a grand, inspiring answer.

You don’t have to find a silver lining in everything.

You don’t have to turn a difficult experience into a lesson for everyone else.

Sometimes it’s enough to say, “This is what got me through the week.”

And sometimes it’s enough to admit that you’re still looking.

Both answers belong here.

🐾 Luna’s Hydration Reminder

This is your reminder from the Department of Extremely Obvious Things:

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.

And if you have a medical condition that affects your fluid or salt needs, follow the guidance you’ve been given for your particular situation. Taking care of yourself doesn’t have to look the same for everybody.

Luna has spoken.

🐾💧

🐄 Binka’s Reminder to Do One Happy Thing

Binka would like everyone to know that happiness is extremely 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 you:

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.

🐈 Purrgatory Notes: A Little Biscuits Intermission

The newest member of the household would also like to remind everyone that life is better when you have something to purr about.

Biscuits has no major philosophical contributions this week.

He is a cat.

His current priorities are being loved, receiving attention, and ensuring that nobody forgets he’s in the room.

Preferably while making biscuits on a human.

Preferably while purring loudly enough to qualify as household background noise.

He has no interest in your productivity.

He has no interest in your five-year plan.

He has no interest in whether you’ve answered your emails.

He would, however, like to know why you are sitting there doing absolutely nothing when you could be petting him.

Honestly?

Fair question.

So, here’s your reminder from Purrgatory:

You are allowed to enjoy the little things.

You are allowed to ask for affection.

You are allowed to want company.

And you are allowed to take up space in the lives of the people who love you.

Sometimes you need a grand adventure.

Sometimes you need to change your life.

And sometimes you need to curl up somewhere warm and let yourself be loved without having to accomplish anything first.

Biscuits recommends the last option.

Biscuits is a cat.

He may be onto something.

🌱 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 someone 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.

Maybe you’ve found your people this week.

Maybe you’ve had to walk away from a place that wasn’t good for you.

Maybe someone showed you unexpected kindness.

Maybe you’re grieving something that other people don’t understand.

Maybe you’re looking forward to something wonderful.

Maybe you’re just tired.

All of those things can be true.

And if you want to share something, I hope you do.

Tell us about your tiny victory.

Tell us about the thing that made you smile.

Tell us about the person who helped you through a difficult day.

Tell us about the show you’re not emotionally prepared to say goodbye to.

Tell us about the ridiculous thing your pet did this week.

Tell us whatever you feel comfortable sharing.

You don’t owe us your whole story.

You don’t owe anyone an explanation for the things you keep private.

But if you want to share a little piece of your world with us, there’s room.

Pull up a chair.

Tell us where you’re at.

Or just sit quietly with us.

The porch light is on either way.

🏡 Before You Wander Back Into the Woods…

Take a few things with you.

Drink some water.

Eat something if you can.

Rest before your body has to demand it.

Let someone help you if they’re offering.

Do one small thing that makes you happy.

Celebrate the tiny victory.

And remember that you don’t have to make your life look impressive for it to be worth living.

Sometimes the biggest thing you accomplish today is getting through today.

That’s enough.

And if this week has been particularly heavy…

You don’t have to carry all of it tonight.

Set some of it down.

Let somebody else hold a corner.

Let the dogs sit beside you.

Let yourself be cared for.

That’s not weakness.

That’s what having a Pack is for.

I’ve been thinking about how people become part of our lives.

How a place we visit for help can become somewhere we belong.

How a person we barely know can become a familiar face we look forward to seeing.

How someone can make us dinner, and we can spend the following week trying to find the recipe for the bread because it made someone we love so happy.

How a television show can become a family tradition.

How a fictional character can become part of a memory we share with the people sitting beside us.

How the things we love can hurt to lose, even when we know we were lucky to have them in the first place.

And how, sometimes, the most important parts of our lives aren’t the things we set out to build.

They’re the things that grow while we’re busy living.

We didn’t go to the food pantry expecting to find community.

We didn’t know we’d make friends.

We didn’t know we’d eventually become volunteers ourselves.

We just went because we needed help.

And then we kept showing up.

Sometimes, that’s how belonging begins.

You show up.

Someone welcomes you.

You come back.

You remember their name.

They remember yours.

And little by little, the world becomes a little less lonely.

I think there’s something beautiful about that.

I think we need more of it.

More places where people can show up without having to prove they deserve to be there.

More kindness without an expectation of repayment.

More shared meals.

More checking in.

More remembering the names of people’s pets and asking how their kids are doing.

More gathering around the television to yell at fictional characters with the people we love.

More room for people to be complicated, imperfect, exhausted, joyful, grieving, and human.

More places where we don’t have to earn our chair.

Because the world is already hard enough without making belonging another thing we have to fight for.

And if there’s one thing I want this Den to be, it’s a place where we remember that.

A place where we can talk about chronic illness and disability without pretending everything is inspirational.

A place where we can celebrate a good day without feeling guilty about the people having a bad one.

A place where we can be heartbroken about a television show, excited about a new recipe, grateful for a stranger’s kindness, and honest about the things we’re struggling with.

A place where we can be ourselves.

Not polished versions of ourselves.

Not the versions we think other people want to see.

Just ourselves.

Because you don’t have to be having a good week to belong here.

You don’t have to have something interesting to report.

You don’t have to turn your life into a story with a lesson at the end.

You can just be here.

And I hope you know how much that matters.

Luna will keep watch.

Binka will probably make an absolutely unreasonable amount of noise before falling asleep somewhere inconvenient.

Biscuits will continue his campaign to ensure that nobody in this household ever experiences a moment without feline supervision.

M&M will ask if everybody has what they need.

The Yard Yeti will probably be somewhere nearby insisting that he is not involved while being extremely involved.

And I’ll be here, too.

Still writing.

Still figuring things out.

Still making room.

Because this Den isn’t just mine.

It never was.

Every story you tell.

Every comment.

Every “me too.”

Every little victory.

Every time you show up when you don’t feel like you have much to give.

You add another chair.

You make this place fuller.

So, thank you for being here.

Thank you for letting me be here with you.

And thank you for remembering that sometimes survival is quiet.

Sometimes healing is slow.

Sometimes joy is tiny.

Sometimes community begins with a homemade dinner.

Sometimes love looks like a familiar face asking how you’ve been.

Sometimes the thing that carries you through the week is a story you share with your family.

And sometimes the best thing you can do is drink some water, eat a snack, curl up somewhere soft, and wait for tomorrow.

There is no shame in that.

There is no failure in that.

There is still life in that.

So, until next Thursday…

Keep the porch light on for yourself.

You deserve to know how to find your way home, too.

Love you.

Now say it back.

💜

– Sky

© The Crippled Cryptid

Disability. Chronic illness. Dogs. Cats. Community. Survival without the performance.

🐾 Luna says: Drink your water.

🐄 Binka says: Do the happy thing.

🐈 Biscuits says: Stop reading and pet the cat.

🏡 The Den says: There’s always another chair.

🔗 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, mobility, and building a life anyway:

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

The porch light stays on.