I met Bri in January of 2021. I reached out to her on Twitter because I saw she shared a tweet about looking in to starting an Only Fans and I offered to help her if she used my referral link. But she already had a page so she didn’t and I still gave her advice and encouraged her.

On June 20th, 2022 she reached out to me and asked what Fanhouse was. I gave her the scoop and offered the same thing, to help her get started on there if she used my referral code. I had spent hours giving her advice and tips and then after I saw she had made a page, I asked her if she used my referral link. She lied and said yes even though she didn’t. She claimed she ‘‘meant to but didn’t know what happened.’’ She then had her boyfriend use my link, which was probably the stupidest thing ever because it’s not like he was going to be making any money on there. Regardless, I still continued to help her grow her page. I however, did not send her a free invite to mine. So she was paying me $5 a month for access to my page. I continued to help her and gave her advice every single time she reached out.

At one point, she reached out asking if I minded if she made a ‘‘VIP page’’ on Fanhouse. (At this point I was the only creator on Fanhouse with two pages.) I told her I didn’t mind as long as she used my referral code this time. She then claimed she couldn’t because she ‘‘already made the page.’’ So she just went ahead and did it without me saying it was cool, which wasn’t very cash money of her. I asked her to reach out to Fanhouse and ask them to add my referral to her page. That didn’t really matter though because basically no one subbed to her page.

Anotherrr time, she decided to make a VIP Only Fans page and woop-de-doo, big surprise, did not use my referral code. Instead she messaged me saying ‘‘I just realized I could’ve used my referral code from my free page for this one.’’ HUH? And guess who still kept helping her? *THIS GIRL*

At this point I am just a dummy because I was helping this girl for nothing in return and when I would talk to anyone about it, they were like ‘‘There’s no way she’s not doing this on purpose.’’ I like helping people though so I let it slide.

Later when she joined Shotcall she didn’t use my referral code AGAIN so I had to reach out to Shotcall and ask them to manually add me. I decided at this point to just not expect anything in return ever for helping her. It was pretty disheartening.

A few months in to being on Bri’s page there was a sub who was coming for her pretty hard in her housechat and being insanely rude so I ripped him a new one and defended her. Because of this, one of her subs liked how I handled the situation and subbed to me. I built a friendship with the sub and since then he’s become one of my biggest supporters. Sadly Bri became very jealous over time about this and one night a few weeks ago, she started to spiral. She was asking me questions about how much money he sends me, how often we talk, the nature of our conversations, etc. I was very uncomfortable but answered the questions. She began to spiral even harder and I feared she would reach out to the sub and mention me, which could have drastically affected my income. And then she did just that, but thankfully the sub realized she was being crazy and stayed on my page.

I also made an engagement group on Twitter with a bunch of creators in it. The point of the engagement group was to hype each other up, share our successes, and retweet each other’s tweets to get more engagement to bring subs to our pages. It was a very wholesome thing and I loved giving creators a space to talk in, vent in, and be supported in.

But every time I would post successes, she would get very insecure instead of hyping me up. The engagement group blew up after I posted in it after getting a new sub. I was asking two girls in the engagement group that were mutuals with this sub how he is as a sub and she got PISSED because she had been talking and interacting with this sub for free on free platforms and didn’t even know he was on Fanhouse. So seeing that he chose to support me and not her upset her so much that she ended up leaving the group. I told her she was welcome back at any point but that I didn’t advise coming back if she can’t exist in a space where people are sharing their successes without feeling jealous or insecure over it. I halted most interactions with her because I realized what a volatile person she is. I continued to support her, just lessened my interactions with her.

But then she assumed every single post I made was about her, even when I was honest about who my posts were actually about. Cue more spiraling. I mean I could have posted ‘‘I hate this snaggled toothed brunette bitch’’ and she would still probably think somehow despite being a not-snaggled toothed redhead, that it was about her. It was very exhausting.

I had subs reaching out to me complaining that they felt like interactions with her weren’t genuine and they were feeling sick of being used as a piggy bank. One sub was literally in the hospital and she reached out and asked if he was okay and then five minutes later was like ‘‘Did you see I sent out a locked message?’’ She’s also reached out to creators she shares mutual subs with asking ‘‘Why isn’t he unlocking or tipping ever?’’ and reaching out to subs that didn’t re-sub asking if they’re planning on coming back.

There was one time where I had to reach out to her and let her know that her behavior in another creator’s housechat was really inappropriate. She would always be really active in housechats if there was a sub interacting in there in an attempt to get him on to her page which was embarrassing for me because I was the one who brought her on to Fanhouse and she was sneakily sub poaching. I warned her it was not a good look and I didn’t want the creators on Fanhouse to start getting negative opinions about her.

There would be days where I would post something and she would get low-key upset and say ‘‘Well I was going to do that today.’’ As if we can’t post the same sort of content on the same day. (I literally rented an Air BNB on vacation just for the bath tub and she was planning a bath tub set that day.)

I had been talking for months about a set I planned on doing and she posted suddenly that she ‘‘found some pasties and it gave her the idea for a set’’ and the set was very similar to the set I had been talking about for months and when I asked her about it she said she had been planning it. Which is ironic because she had just posted that she ‘‘just’’ had the idea. I let that slide too, but a lot of the ideas and things she posted really were not original ideas, just ripped off versions of ideas that I had. I stopped sharing ideas for sets in the engagement group because of this. She is also the reason I closed my housechat for awhile.

Basically, and this is what it boils down to…she’s incredibly insecure and does not like to see people doing well unless she feels that she too is doing well. She does not know how to go about getting subs organically and tries to build these fake relationships with other creators to gain access to their subs. She does not build up other women as she claims she does. She does not view the majority of her subs as actual humans, but as piggybanks. If she is not making money, she belittles herself and feels worthless over it.

She ended up soft blocking me on everything and I just felt compelled to share my side of the story because people have been asking. I genuinely hope she gets the help she needs because I don’t see her lasting long as a content creator with the way she treats people and the bridges she’s burned. I will still continue to help creators and keep being the person I am.

Thanks for reading!

We’re sitting at the bar towards the end of the night. We’re chatting, we’re having a blast. I don’t want it to end. We’re cracking jokes and people love us. They think we’re funny and they don’t want us to leave. We get invited to the back of the bar…it’s exclusive. We’re special. We go. We drink more and we don’t go home until we literally have to. We don’t want to go home until we literally have to.

Fast forward to the same place with a different person. Two years later.

I’m happy to be here. We’re in different places talking to different people. I look over and I see you laugh. It sounds like you’re talking about politics. I feel warm. I love to see you laugh. I want to take you home and lay in bed and laugh with you. I’m having fun but I’m excited to go home with you. I hope we don’t get invited to the back. I’m making friends while you’re bullying someone over their views on oppression. We made a friend. I want to run my fingers through your hair. I am looking forward to going home with you so much.


Happy 2 months. I’m sorry we couldn’t be together today but when I see you I’m gonna smooch you until your face falls off!

We’ve had so much fun together the past two months and I know it will only get better as time goes on.

From all the spontaneous adventures we go on to just doing life together, I’ve come to learn that everything about life with you has felt spontaneous. I never expected you to come in to my life but now that you have, words can’t express how eternally thankful I am that you are here.

The way that you love me and take care of me is unmatched and I am so excited for life with you.

I love you. Thank you for loving me.

Wholly yours, Heather

Would you be a friend? At the end of us would I find a warm shoulder where a lover used to be?

I love you, forever, that’s true. But at what point do we call it? Maybe this is the last time I’ll let you make me cry. Maybe this is the last time that I’ll lay here attempting to conjure up your reasons to stay. When does love become a burden?

This quarrel, a losing game. Would you kiss me on that night? Stroke my hair on that night?

Despite everything you’re about to lose could you love me and let me go?

On this day in 2015, I was sitting in bed with Ethan (Willow’s father) and the phone rang.

Upon seeing my geneticist's phone number on the caller I.D, I immediately felt my heart drop in to my stomach. I had been waiting for exactly a month for this phone call and knew it could only go one of two ways: Either Willow had Cystic Fibrosis...or she didn't. Either our child would be born with a genetic, terminal disease...or she wouldn't.

So I swallowed the lump in my throat and answered the phone...

And she didn't.

The day Willow came in to the world is and always will be my favorite day...but finding out our baby girl was healthy comes in with a very, very close second.

Sometimes I have a hard time dealing with the fact that she will more than likely be my only child...that every time we have a kid there is that looming chance they won't be so lucky as Willow. (If I happen to be with a carrier again.) I spend a lot of time quietly picking up tiny little outfits and pjs she's outgrown, imagining what it would be like to box them all up and say “I'm saving these for the next one.” And for a few seconds it's nice to dream about the sound of four little feet running through the house instead of two...but then Willow says something like “Mommy, look!” (with pure amazement on her face) and it's a toy she's had for over a year that she forgot she had, I snap out of dreaming and remember that what I have in front of me is something so much sweeter than anything I could have ever possibly dreamt up, and not a single day passes that I don't think about just how lucky I am to call her mine. To have her. To see her sweet little hands reaching in to my bowl of snacks, to trip over one of her gazillion toys that are laying on the floor, or to wrestle her to take acetaminophen when she's running a fever. I love every single aspect of motherhood, even the not so glamorous parts. The random temper tantrums, the feeling like I'm assisting in an exorcism during bath time, the liking bananas one day and hating them the next...I love it all. And although when I was younger I envisioned a future with multiple sets of feet running, tornado-ing through our home, I have to say that the sound of just one pair is literally music to my ears.

Today I will not box up outfits and think of what we don't have, but will instead celebrate and be thankful for what we DO have...because believe me, it is so much more than enough.

Saturday morning at 9:00am my doorbell rang and I groaned and rolled over, ignoring it. I had just helped a friend move the day before and I feel like I moved enough boxes to last me a life time. I ignored the first doorbell ringing and pretended to be dead because in my opinion, no one should have to do anything before 9am on a Saturday. The doorbell rang again at 12pm and I was a little more accepting of this and ended up in the back seat of a car with 5 people in it headed to Tampa. If you’ve ever been to Ybor City, you shouldn’t be surprised to learn that I now have a giant bruise on my left knee and lost an entire fingernail dancing. Despite this, I had never felt more at home than I felt on the journey home stuck between two friends and retelling stories of the night before. My favorite part of the entire trip was being able to have the aux cord for four minutes and playing Devotchka’s ‘‘How it Ends’’ while I stuck my head out of the window on the way to a casino and no one talked the entire way, we all just listened.

On my way to go get my nail fixed the following night, I contemplated whether I should walk or ride my bicycle. The decision was solely based off of what I was wearing. I decided to walk because the dress that I wore already had tire marks forever engrained in it due to riding my bicycle in it before. Before leaving my house, I took $15 out of my tip jar I leave on my kitchen counter. I did this because I knew on my way there I would happen upon multiple homeless people…and honestly I never carry cash on me so I wanted to this time for that reason alone. It did not go to waste and as I took my time on my walk, I had some great conversations along the way.

On the walk to the nail salon I said hello to every person I passed. I felt high off of my neighborhood and all of the familiar faces I passed on the way there. I had passed a friend in a vehicle who excitedly knocked on his window to get my attention while walking past and it felt so good to have someone excited to see me through a window. A friend.

I walked in to the nail salon I have been going to for four years now and was met with Judy’s judgement when she learned I had somehow yet again ripped off a freshly manicured nail. She grumbled something about how I am the clumsiest customer she has before she got to work on fixing it. She sat a glass of white wine in front of me without asking and said ‘‘You’re going to need this.’’

I realized over the weekend and on this night that this is what home feels like; being surrounded by a community of people that know you and love you.

I can’t imagine my life any other way.

I used to think I wanted to be as far away from Jacksonville as humanly possible. I was in a relationship where talk of moving was incessantly being had. New York City, DC, North Carolina, the mountains in Georgia. There was just no way the person I was having these conversations with could ever understand what Jacksonville meant to me but I had the conversations anyways because I was under the impression that home could be anywhere as long as it’s with the right person. But there was always this small part of me that hated these conversations because of the home I had spent years building for myself. I dreaded the thought of giving that up to spend life with someone who couldn’t have been happy with me just anywhere.

I went through a custody battle in the midst of these talks and remember feeling relieved in a way that one of the rulings was that I would have to stay in Jacksonville until my tiny human turns 18, but I immediately knew how the relationship would end, even before it did. Three months later it ended and he is now in New York City living the life he wanted to the entire time we were together; the life I had held him back from. I realize now that if I had went with him, it still wouldn’t have been what I needed because he never could be, and truthfully you just cannot make a home out of a person.

I am happy to be where I am. To be home. To have friends that I love who love me in return.

And it feels so good to be home.

Last night was the first new moon of 2022. I got together with some friends, wrote some manifestations down on pieces of paper, and then burned them at midnight. I’ve never participated in a New Moon Ritual but thought it might be a fun way to set intentions and focus on what I really want for myself this year.

While writing my list, my mind kept coming back to the words ‘‘Be intentional.’’

Throughout the night, I thought a lot about what that meant for me and how I could bring that manifestation to fruition.

To me being intentional means knowing what you want and doing what you can to get what you want, in a very purposeful way.

This could be in any aspect of your life. Work, friendships, relationships, putting better things in to your body, having a stronger focus on goals you want to achieve, letting go of things that no longer serve you, changing the way you speak to people, the way you think, the media you consume, and more.

I realized more than anything that just as much as I want to live more intentionally, that I also want the people in my life to be intentional with me. I can’t expect it from others if I am not living up to it myself.

Here is to being more intentional.

A few weeks ago I was on the phone with my ex I was still trying to be friends with crying over the realization that I needed to end a friendship that had become very toxic. He said something to me along the lines of ‘‘Sometimes you just have to accept that that is who that person is’’ and though he was not referring to himself when he said this, it opened my eyes to how I had been allowing him to treat me for well over a year. It was almost comedic listening to him tell me I deserved better than what I was getting from someone else. But in my already emotionally heightened state, I kept how I was feeling to myself and gave myself time to think about things rationally, separate from the pain I was already feeling from one friendship ending.

It wasn’t until he let me down for the trillionth time just a week later that I finally just said ‘‘You know what? No more. I’m out.’’

Lately I have been trying to be more of a friend to myself and look at things from a perspective of ‘‘If someone did this to my friend and they told me about it, what would I tell them to do?’’

No one should put up with being love bombed, manipulated, lied to, mistreated, and emotionally abused.

I think sometimes we know we deserve better but it’s difficult to go out and get it because when you give so much of yourself to someone, you lose pieces of yourself. Eventually it is impossible to feel like you can be whole without them.

I’m here to tell you that even though in a way that may be true, it is possible to build and find new pieces. To grow. To become whole again, without the person you feel holds so many pieces of you.

If you find yourself making excuses for someone who does not treat you the way you deserve to be treated, I urge you to cut them off and then watch how you blossom when you’re not being weighed down by rotting roots. Replant yourself and give yourself some sunshine. You deserve it.

I made a Fanhouse page so that I could have a safe corner of the internet to share intimate details of my life I wouldn’t typically share on other platforms like Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter; safely hidden behind a $5 paywall.

It donned on me the other day after getting sick with what I thought originally was a Cystic Fibrosis exacerbation that while I share photos of my pets, what I had for lunch, dating drama, and everything else I share on there, I have been leaving my followers out of possibly the biggest thing about my life: That I have Cystic Fibrosis.

I realized that if I have a hospital admission, which is something that typically happens every six months or so, that everyone who follows me on there might be confused and worried—so this is to kind of pre-emptively let my followers know that when that inevitably happens, it’s not that deep.

Cystic Fibrosis is a progressive genetic disease so as you get older, it gets worse. It mostly affects the lungs and over time, limits the ability to breathe. It is the most common genetic disease affecting more than 30,000 children and adults in the United States. (70,000 worldwide.) You inherit one CF gene from your mother and one CF gene from your father. Approximately 1 in 35 Americans are a carrier of the CFTR gene mutation, which means that 10 million Americans are Cystic Fibrosis carriers. If two people are carriers, there is a 25% chance that your child will have Cystic Fibrosis. In 1982 hospitals started implementing tests for CF as part of the newborn screening process but as new genes were discovered throughout the years, a lot of babies slipped (and continue to slip) under the radar. Because of this, I was not diagnosed until I was two years old.

I was very frail as a child and was diagnosed because I was going through something called failure to thrive. At diagnosis, it was discovered that I needed a feeding tube to help intake more calories than I was able to take by mouth. I had a g-tube from age 2-15. When I was 15, I was able to demonstrate that I had my calorie intake by mouth under control and was able to maintain a healthy enough weight for my CF team to feel comfortable with me removing the feeding tube. I actually took it out myself and it was supposed to close up on it’s own but did not so for an entire month every time I drank anything, it came out of my stomach. (Which made me very popular with the guys—just kidding!)

People with Cystic Fibrosis are born with a protein in their cells that doesn’t work right. That protein is called CFTR. CFTR controls the flow of water and certain salts in and out of the body’s cells. As the movement of salt and water in and out of the cells changes, mucus becomes thickened.

In the digestive system, CF mainly affects the pancreas. The thickened secretions can block the ducts in the pancreas. This blockage causes a drop in the amount of digestive enzymes the pancreas puts out, which makes it difficult to digest food. Because of this, CF patients have to take digestive enzymes before consuming any calories.

In the lungs, the mucus clogs the airways and traps germs, like bacteria, leading to infections, inflammation, respiratory failure, and other complications. For this reason, avoiding germs is is a top concern for people with CF. An increase in infections can cause the lungs to deteriorate over time which results in a loss in lung function. My lungs currently function at about 60% which means that eventually I will have to receive a lung transplant. Most people do not realize that transplanted lungs only last for about 5 years but can typically last for a shorter amount of time or longer. The longest documented single-lung transplant patient survived 30 years post-transplant.

When I was diagnosed, I was not expected to live past 8. Today, because of improved medical treatments and care, more than half of people with CF are age 18 or older. Many people with CF can expect to live healthy, fulfilling lives into their 30s, 40s, and beyond. This is thanks to medications like Kalydeco, Orkambi, Trikafta, and Symdeko—all of which I am ineligible for due to my genes. I am in the 10% of CF patients that CF modulator therapies will not help, but pharmaceutical companies like Vertex are constantly working on new drugs and it’s just a matter of time before something I can take is on the horizon.

Hospital admissions usually come in the form of a two week stay where a tune up is done. During a hospital admission, a PICC line is placed in one of my arms. A PICC line is a long, thin tube that’s inserted through a vein in your arm and passed through to the larger veins near your heart. It is generally used to give medications or liquid nutrition. A PICC line can help avoid the pain of frequent needle sticks and reduce the risk of smaller veins in your arm being damaged. One of the risks of a PICC line is blood clots and infections. PICC line infections aren’t fun and can cause sepsis if not caught early enough. Sepsis is life-threatening.

I am actually allergic to one of the I.V medications I have to receive through my PICC line (Vancomycin) to treat my lung infections so before each dose I have to take I.V Benadryl through my PICC line which basically makes me feel like an extra on the Walking Dead.

Being hospitalized in general is pretty risky for a CF patient because hospitals are filled with germs, so most CF hospitals will allow a patient to do I.Vs at home through a home health agency. I typically do 7 days in and then continue the IVs at home, along with other parts of my CF regime like oral medications and breathing treatments alongside chest physiotherapy using a VEST—mine is pretty and pink, of course.

I’m due soon for a tune up so stay tuned for that and as always, thank you for reading. If you’d like to follow my journey with CF and receive health updates as well as updates on all the happier parts of my life, go here.

If you’d like to donate to the Cystic Fibrosis foundation you can do so here. :)

Being in love with the wrong person is like drinking a nice cold glass of water but still feeling parched.

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