My father had a unique and effective method of punishment, and I've thanked him for it at every opportunity.

If we misbehaved, the default punishment was no TV or computer privileges for a week. This could be anything from name-calling to lying to refusing to walk the dog. A week without entertainment.

But here's the cool part. We would be absolved of our crimes if we created some work of art for him. He'd accept drawings, or songs, or even dance routines, as long as they weren't half-a**ed. They all started out terrible, but over time all of us kids developed a real interest in our endeavors and went on to become pretty damn decent. I've been going to school on a piano scholarship for two years and my sister is a talented ballet dancer.

But the best part is that my dad saved all the work we did over the years and has folders and folders of paintings and drawings along with hours of videotaped performances. My mom says he goes through his collection many times a year.

Thanks, dad.

Vaccines dont cause autism.

“I’m not letting you do this alone. I’m coming with you.” - My girlfriend and soon to be fiancé when I had to put down my elderly cat three days before Christmas.

We went to the vet and she watched me bawl, we both cried our eyes out, and even still after that she let me grieve at home for an hour. She brought me a coffee, and everything to make sugar cookies from the store. She came back and she said she couldn’t fix it, but she didn’t want me to be alone.

So we played Christmas music, made terribly ugly cookies, and we weren’t okay; but we were together.

That’s when I saw what real, unconditional love looked like.

I worked the front desk at a yoga studio/spa for a while. I loved it; interacting with all of the people that would come in gave me life. I didn’t realize how extroverted I actually was until I started working there. I got to know all the regulars, remembering everyone’s name and trying to make them all feel warm, welcome, and special. One day, one of the older regulars came in and handed me an envelope. He had typed me a letter that brought me to absolute tears, talking about how big my light was and how truly transformative my weekly welcome to him had been, as a person who had rarely felt welcome anywhere his whole life. At the time, I was struggling with a lot of my own darkness and the fact that I had any ounce of light was genuinely news to me. My heart needed that.