TERMS OF SERVICE: The Legal Bit (Made Readable By A Human With A Pulse)

Nobody reads Terms of Service.

You scroll past them like they’re your ex’s Instagram stories. You click “I agree” with the same energy you use to accept cookies on websites you’ll never visit again. I know. I do it too. We’re all out here lying to lawyers and ourselves.

But since we’re doing something real here, let me tell you what you’re actually agreeing to. In sentences your nervous system can actually process.

THE SHORT VERSION:

You pay, you get access. You stop paying, access stops. Don’t steal my stuff, I won’t steal yours. Be decent. We’ll be fine.

THE ACTUAL TERMS (Still Readable, I Promise):

1. WHAT YOU’RE GETTING

When you subscribe, you get access to what I create. Free subscribers get some things. Paid subscribers get more things. Founding members get the most things plus my eternal respect and first dibs on everything.

What you’re NOT getting: ownership of my work, permission to resell it, or a license to screenshot entire posts and pass them off as your shower thoughts on LinkedIn.

2. MY WORDS STAY MINE

I write these things with my actual brain and my actual nervous system and my actual 3am insomnia. They belong to me.

You CAN: Quote me with credit. Screenshot something for a friend. Print it out and tape it to your bathroom mirror. Read it aloud to your cat. Reference it in therapy. Send it to that one person who needs to hear it.

You CANNOT: Copy entire posts. Republish without permission. Sell it. Teach it in your course without asking. Feed it to an AI and pretend you wrote what came out. Build a business on my words without a conversation first.

Your nervous system knows the difference between sharing and stealing. Trust it.

3. DON’T BE AN ASSHOLE

This space is someone’s living room, not a gladiator arena. Not a billboard. Not a place to promote your crypto scheme or your cousin’s essential oil business.

The vibe we’re going for: Honesty. Vulnerability. Occasional swearing. Real questions. Actual connection.

The vibe we’re NOT going for: Personal attacks. Trolling. Unsolicited promotion of your side hustle. Whatever that thing is where people argue in comments just to feel alive.

If you make this space worse for other humans, I’ll remove you from it. Not dramatically. Just quietly. Like a bouncer who’s too tired for confrontation but still knows how doors work.

4. YOUR DATA IS SAFE

I collect your email because that’s how newsletters work. I don’t sell it to anyone. I don’t “share it with partners.” I don’t have partners. I have a laptop, a Substack account, and a strong opinion about privacy.

Substack handles the technical stuff. They have their own privacy policy. It’s long and boring but not evil.

If you want out, unsubscribe anytime. No guilt trips. No “we’ll miss you” emails stalking you for six months. Just... gone. Clean break. We’ll both survive.

5. MONEY STUFF

Payments go through Substack. I don’t see your card number. I see your name and that you paid. That’s it.

Canceling: Do it anytime through your account. You keep access until your current billing period ends. No drama.

Refunds: Handled case by case, like humans, not corporations. If something went wrong, talk to me. We’ll figure it out. Don’t just file a chargeback and vanish into the night. Give me a chance to make it right. I’m one person with a heart and an inbox, not a machine with a legal department.

6. I’M NOT YOUR THERAPIST

I write about nervous systems and bodies and patterns and all sorts of things that might feel therapeutic. But I’m not a licensed therapist. Or doctor. Or lawyer. Or financial advisor. I’m a person who notices things and writes about them.

This is insight, not medical advice. Perspective, not prescription. Take what lands. Leave what doesn’t. Use your own judgment. You’re a grown adult with a body that knows what it needs. I trust you to trust it.

7. IF SOMETHING GOES WRONG

Email me. Seriously. Before you post angry things anywhere. Before you spiral. Before you assume the worst.

I’m one human running one operation. I make mistakes. Things break sometimes. But I care about this working, and I care about you being okay. Give me a chance to fix whatever needs fixing.

8. THINGS MIGHT CHANGE

I might update these terms sometimes. If I do, I’ll tell you. Nothing sneaky. Nothing buried in paragraph 46 designed to steal your firstborn.

BY SUBSCRIBING, YOU’RE BASICALLY SAYING:

“I read this (or at least skimmed it with good intentions). I agree to be a decent human. I understand Dea is also a decent human doing her best. If problems happen, we’ll talk like grown-ups. Cool? Cool.”

That’s it. That’s the scroll.

Welcome.

Dea 🔥