isolation
This Guide to Sexual Grooming Can Protect You and Your Friends from Online Abusers
Seeing You With A Perpetrator Hurts. Here's Why.
Connecting with LGBTQ+ Elders
Seven Things to Do If You’re Alone During COVID-19
Self-Care and Social Distance
The Quiet Voice: How I Stopped Listening to Emotional Abuse
You’ll Grow Out of It
This is a guest entry from I, Asshole for the month-long blogathon to help support Scarleteen!
I was raised in an environment where I felt like I didn’t belong. This wasn’t really anyone’s fault. I just really didn’t belong. I was given some innocuous labels: outgoing, loves to entertain, a social butterfly. There were the less-positive ones, too: wasted potential, weirdo, voted by my graduating class as Most Likely to Relocate to Mars (hey, it turns out Seattle is Mars). I did not know what to call myself, I just knew that I was a little different from all my friends. My precocious age-inappropriate-novel-gobbling self even knew from reading that this feeling was kind of part of the human condition: everyone feels like they are alone sometimes.
I'm her one and only...and I don't think that's a good thing.
My friend wants to be in a relationship with me, but I am afraid to because I am her only means of support (that's not me being full of myself, she's actually said that) and if things were to turn sour I have two parents and countless friends and trusted adults whom I have no problems talking to, whereas she would have no one to talk to, me being her only confidant, and she can't very well talk to...