There is a cost to chronic illness and disability that goes far beyond copays and insurance premiums. It’s the cost of not being believed. When your symptoms don’t perform the way people expect, disbelief can follow you from exam rooms into your own home, leaving bruises that don’t show up on scans and wounds that linger far longer than the physical ones.

Living with chronic illness is already a full-time job. Adding depression on top of it doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re human. This post is an honest look at what life actually feels like when your body won’t cooperate, your brain won’t either, and you’re done pretending that survival needs to be inspirational to be worthy.

I wore a heart monitor for six days, and it didn’t just record my heart. It recorded pain, skin loss, insomnia, and the quiet violence of medical compliance when you have MCAS. This is the part of chronic illness people don’t see. The aftermath. The waiting. The hope that the suffering mattered. And the love it strains, even when no one did anything wrong.

Silo isn’t just about survival. It’s about who gets to define it. Watching a society built on surveillance, medical control, erased history, and “safety at any cost” hit differently as a disabled person. This isn’t subtle science fiction. It’s a warning label. In Bed Jail™, with my service dog pressed against my legs and the world narrowed down to one glowing screen, Silo asked a question I can’t stop thinking about: What happens when the systems designed to protect you decide you’re expendable?

Six days. Wires, adhesives, and a monitor that hated me almost as much as I hated it back. Bed Jail™, pizza rolls, cheese fondue, and a shadow of fur named Luna keeping me alive in ways no chart ever could. This is field notes from a reluctant cyborg.

Meet Luna: medical alert service dog, professional Velcro shadow, and temporary CEO of The Crippled Cryptid. In this New Year takeover, Luna shares what life looks like on seizure watch, how service dogs actually train for life, why joy matters just as much as tasking, and how a family learns to carry grief while still moving forward. Equal parts education, humor, and heart, with Costco salmon skins heavily implied.

Luna’s Guide to Surviving the Holidays (Even in Bed Jail™) shares cozy, practical, and slightly chaotic tips for navigating the post-holiday slump. From claiming your blanket fortress to mini adventures, snacks, and cuddles as currency, learn how a Service Dingo™ survives- and thrives- through winter chaos. Perfect for anyone managing chronic illness, low energy, or just the overwhelming holidays.

2025 tried to take my health, my peace, my love of writing, and even my dog. It didn’t succeed. In this end-of-year reflection, I look back on what was lost, what survived, and why I’m carrying cautious, stubborn hope into 2026. Through dark-fantasy imagery, real medical experiences, and cryptid-style predictions for the year ahead, this post is about choosing adventure, connection, and survival even when the future still feels uncertain.

A reflection on survival, service dogs, grief, disability, and fragile hope, this post looks toward 2026 not as a reinvention, but as a reclamation. From losing a car and navigating medical trauma to honoring Bear, training Luna, and learning how to be kinder to myself, this is a chronicle of what it means to keep going when your body and heart are exhausted. Not a “new year, new me” story, but a promise to live anyway.

At midnight, the door to the Cryptid’s Den opens into a brand-new year. This is a quiet, intentional welcome to 2026. One that leaves the ghosts of 2025 where they belong and steps forward with hope, ritual, and a little everyday magic.

Step into the static-filled, Hawkins-flavored chaos of The Crippled Cryptid as I break down my biggest Stranger Things Season 5 predictions- written before release, spoiler-free, and powered entirely by caffeine and cryptid energy. From the truth behind Henry Creel, Vecna, and the Mind Flayer, to heartbreaking theories about Eleven, Max, Dustin, Hopper, and the fate of Hawkins itself, this post dives deep into Seasons 1–4, the canon stage play The First Shadow, and the show’s long-running mysteries. Whether you’re here for analysis, nostalgia, or emotional support, consider this your cozy corner of the internet- lights strung, walkie-talkies charged, and no spoilers until everyone’s caught up.

2025 tried to break me. It tried to take pieces of me I didn’t know I could lose- my courage, my hope, my stubborn spark that says I am still here. But through grief, accidents, surgeries, and loss, there were the people, the animals, and the small everyday magic that kept me upright. This is my candle-lit inventory of the ones who refused to let the year win.

Accessibility isn’t about specs- it’s about how a device supports you on your worst days. Samsung or iPhone? Neither is universally better; each serves different bodies and minds. Here’s my field guide.

Being stuck in Bed Jail™ is frustrating, boring, and surprisingly illuminating. From tiny victories to rogue imagination and Luna’s boops, I’ve learned more about resilience, gratitude, and chaos than I ever expected.

Ever wondered what it would be like if mythical creatures could be your service animal? From centaurs helping with heavy loads to dragons keeping you warm during a POTS flare, this whimsical yet practical list imagines magical companions for real-life chronic illness challenges. Plus, meet Luna, my Kitsune-inspired magical sidekick who proves that small pups can have enormous impact.

Tomorrow I’m venturing back into the wilds of the hospital- this time with a five-day wearable heart monitor stuck to my chest, Luna by my side, and Greggy in scrubs for moral support. Adhesive chaos, MCAS reactions, and mysterious wires await. Five days. One heart. And hopefully, a little truth.

Derry, Maine isn’t a town. It’s a wound that keeps reopening every twenty-seven years. IT: Welcome to Derry doesn’t just ask what happens when evil returns- it asks who gets left behind when a town decides some suffering is easier to ignore than confront. Set decades before the Losers’ Club ever rode their bikes, the series peels back the rot beneath the sidewalks and shows how fear, silence, and generational trauma become a kind of civic tradition. Pennywise is back, sharper and crueler, equal parts dark humor and cosmic hunger. But the real horror lives in the spaces between people: in what’s dismissed, normalized, and quietly endured. Watching this as someone who understands chronic pain and PTSD, Derry felt painfully familiar. Trauma doesn’t disappear just because time passes. It echoes. This is a love letter, a reckoning, and a descent- with red balloons tied to every memory. Because we all float back here.

Some Saturdays look like productivity. Some look like safety, fog warnings, and choosing to stay home. In this week’s Saturday Health Update, Sky talks burnout, disrupted routines, Keppra side effects, and why rest isn’t failure. Just adaptation.

The holidays barely ended before cardiology handed me a five-day heart monitor and a new set of worries. Between chronic illness, MCAS, restlessness, and a very vigilant service dog, staying still might be the hardest part.

Christmas showed up in a different font this year. Chronic illness, grief, found family, prime rib, pajamas, and choosing softness when the holidays don’t pause for your body. A very Cryptid Christmas.

This year, Christmas came a little differently in the Cryptid household. The feast happened on Christmas Eve under loving French supervision, the leftovers became sacred, and Christmas Day was reserved for pajamas, memories, and healing. Through food, laughter, grief, and joy, Luna Bean takes over to remind us that the quiet holidays can still be the most magical.

Winter nights have always carried a touch of the uncanny. Long before satellites tracked storms, people believed the roaring winds of midwinter weren’t just weather- they were the Wild Hunt thundering across the sky. Ghostly riders, spectral hounds, ancestral spirits, and otherworldly queens or gods swept through the darkest weeks of the year, bringing both danger and wonder. From Odin and Frau Holle to Gwyn ap Nudd and the Sluagh, these storm-born hosts remind us that winter is not only cozy and festive- it is ancient, mysterious, and fiercely alive.

Surprise! Luna is taking over early with a Christmas Eve Eve special. From sweaters and salmon skins to missing Bear and wishing for a better year ahead, our favorite cryptid pup shares her holiday list, her hopes, and a little extra warmth for a hard season.

Discrimination isn’t always loud. Sometimes it looks like a canceled ride, a judgment made from a pickup location, or a disabled person left standing in the cold. This post explores how ableism, religious prejudice, and racism intersected during a routine trip to a food bank, and why these biases harm not only marginalized communities, but everyone who depends on systems of care and community support.

This year, Christmas in the Cryptid’s Den is a mix of sticky chocolate, misfit gingerbread houses, and the hollow echo of Bear’s absence. Between Keppra-induced exhaustion, group bathroom trips, and the chaos of Instacart fails, M&M, Luna, and I are carving out moments of love, laughter, and low-key holiday magic. From Christmas Balls to prime rib victories, this is how we’re showing up- even when grief, illness, and distance try to steal the cheer.