Thoughts on Punishment

Someone has asked a really good question regarding types of punishments I receive from Dad. I couldn’t really answer that for several reasons. Primary one being I’ve never received a punishment from Dad. Second, Dad is not a huge supporter for punishments. I certainly do not doubt his ability to administer one, but both of us do not like to resort to that to correct and resolve our problems.

Due to the nature of BDSM community, punishments are often confused with “funishments”. I was once largely drawn towards that. But the more I thought about it the more confused I was. If a punishment is meant as a deterrent, why is it so alluring? Dad once said that true punishment is kinda sorta like death. It’s an unknown. Us humans do not like unknown for an answer. So either we work to find the answer or we assume or fantasize to fill in the gap. It’s a bit abstract, but that certainly explains the alluring part.

Punishment should fit the crime. When something goes wrong, most of the time it’s not solely follower’s fault. There’s an oversight on leader side as well. A wise leader will look at the situation and decide if the follower has truly committed a crime or there’s something else that has caused the failure. If it’s something else, the leader will then troubleshoot with his follower so that they can both learn from that failure and avoid future pit falls. If it’s follower’s fault, the type and severity of the punishment should match the crime committed. Goal is to one correct or mitigate the damage from that failure and two not to have that repeated ever again. If done right, one punishment should be enough for one’s lifetime.

As for me personally, I am always horrified at the thought of disappointing Dad. Many times, Dad would mention something and I’d immediately do it. Think of me as teacher’s pet if you will. I am always driven so that Dad can be proud of me. Think part of that drive is largely due to my past. Don’t think Dad 2.0 was ever proud of something I do or achieve. So that need to be seen and loved out weighs the inconveniences or reluctance to follow orders from Dad 3.0. That said, I am also a submissive at heart. I love to please everyone around me. I want them to be happy. So I’d always try my best to avoid conflict wherever I go.

With all that said, I do have areas of weakness. I get passionate and emotional over things I belive in. Most of the time, it’s a good thing. Like learning a new skill or helping someone in need. Once in a while, I’d let my negative emotions cloud my judgment. Dad would often step in and give me warnings that I was venturing close to making mistakes that’d hurt me. I’d say 99.9% of time, those warnings were enough to keep me grounded. That leaves 0.1% chance where I’d truly fail. I am terrified at the thought of that. I am not really fearful of the actual punishment from Dad, but punishment from my own inner judge. Dad’s punishment will probably pale in comparison to the never ending negative spin that my judge can send me into. I’ve done enough of that to understand how miserable and painful those spins can be.

So when it comes to punishment, both Dad and I are actively working hard to avoid. It has its place, but should not be the first tool to reach for when things go wrong.

Year of Many Changes

It’s been a while since I last wrote anything. This year has been and will be a year of many changes. Those changes are going in the right direction. So don’t worry. Since I am a creature of habit, the Taurus in me is struggling to embrace all the changes that are thrown at me once. Again not a bad thing, just need time to adjust and go with the flow.

Anyway in the past months, I’ve sensed much stress building up. When stress had crossed my threshold of tolerance, I was prompted to ask if Dad would take over some of the power I have over myself. He agreed and this is more or less a temporary power exchange arrangement. I get to choose if I want to keep it for long term or call it off when the need subsides. Because during this time of change, I don’t really trust my own judgment. I need someone else to step in and be like “hey! You are entering a danger zone. Stop! Before you get hurt” For those of you who are pondering what this exchange means, Dad is not my Dominant. Dad is my father forever and always. He just now have firmer grip to my life until I feel safe to venture out again.

Read the Four Agreements book in full this time. Thank you Nora for the suggestion. I’ve gained a deeper understanding of why I need Dad to counter balance me. The book has mentioned that we are our worst critics. We all have a judge and a victim. Our judge goes by our own book of morals and ethics that we wrote during development. For certain people, our judges are extremely harsh on ourselves. They punishes us for the mistake we make over and over again. It goes from just to abuse. Thus people suffers from depression, mood swings, self harm, and a whole list of negative behaviors. What I mean by giving Dad more power is I am handing him my ability to judge myself. I’ve grown tired and exhausted from the self inflicted abuse. I am ready to hand that control over to Dad. He now gets to say if I’ve done a good job or if I messed up. He gets to carry out my reward or punishment. He gets to give me warnings that I am close to danger zones. That sensation is incredibly freeing. It’s like sending my judge to a remote island for a vacation and the inner me can finally come out and play. As long as I follow Dad’s lead, I am safe. Even if I were to make a mistake the punishment will be quick and just.

Who knows, maybe when my judge comes back from her vacation, she will be more relaxed and forgiving. Saying that tongue in cheek, of course. My judge will always be there. Dad will help me to tone her down. Help her understand that it’s okay to let certain things go. She is not a villan. Still need her for my moral compass.

Happy Lunar New Year everyone!

Be kind to each other and most importantly be kind to yourself. Stay safe and healthy!

Hanging on by a Thread

Wide awake at 4am in the morning. Thought to a comment made by my coworker yesterday. It was made to complement my fluency in manderin, but it kinda hurts a little inside….

You see, ever since I cut my ties with my family, there is really no use for me to speak Mandarin on daily basis. However, what’s unique about my work is that a lot of my clients speak Mandarin only. So…pretty much the only time that I get to speak Mandarin is at work. And that was the comment that my coworker made and said my Mandarin is still so good…

Yup, I pride myself in my bilingual ability. Not that I am good in either language, just good enough so people can’t really guess where I am from. In a way it’s a fun little game I play with my clients at times. They’d ask if I was from Taiwan because of the slight Taiwanese accent I picked up from my highschool years. “nope, I came from China.” “Oh…” the dissapointment in that “oh” was often palpable, but I still get a kick out of that. Once in a while my shanghainese clients would talk to eachother in shanghainese and I’d understood their dialect perfectly. That’s always a surprise for them when they realized I understood what they had said. It’s all fun and games until I am reminded that my roots are slowly dying or hanging on by a thread. That definitely stings a bit, I am not gonna lie.

So when I look at my orchids in the morning, I often marveled at one of the orchids with one root system hanging on, literally, by a thread. The root had squeezed itself through a tiny opening under the pot to get to the water thats pooling underneath. In doing so, the root got strangulated at that choke point and is now dangling by a thread. The surprising thing is though, if you look above and under the choke point, the plant is actually doing amazingly well. Strong root systems, healthy leaves, and a flower stem about to bloom. I totally could trim that root, but there is no need to. It’s symbolic in away that I am like that orchid, sprouting new roots but keeping the old. A past thats forever with me no matter where I go.

Personal Mission Statement

Since around Christmas time, Hubby has asked me to write a personal mission statement. I’ve been pondering on that for a while now. It’s pretty much a personal road map for me to abide by, but to draft it has been a bit of a daunting task. Then, an image I came across this morning kind of summarized my thoughts in a neat little package.

Yup that’s what I have been thinking for my personal statement. Of course not in the exact wording, but general thought process. I can extrapolate that and apply to my relationship with Hubby, Dad, sister, coworkers, friends, and everyone else. However, I shall be most strict about it with myself. Shall change my phone’s lock screen to my mission statement, so when I wake up each morning, I’ll be reminded of my actions for the day.

Work tomorrow will be a bit challenging. Another fourth year vet student is scheduled to follow me around. Not that I mind teaching others, it’s just the scrutiny from those students usually makes me keenly aware of my shortcomings. I always see that as a learning opportunity, but still…shall open up my phone, read my mission statement, breathe, and move on.

Don’t think this is the final version yet. It’s a start. A very good start. Life tends to change as we age. Therefore, my road map will also change with whatever life shall offer.

Quiet Reflection

So much is going through my head right now, but much of which are good thoughts mixed with bad memories of my past life. In the last ten days or so, Hubby and I managed to escape the COVID chaos that’s in California and visited Dad and Sister in the quiet parts of countryside. Was fearful of flying due to risk of exposure, but we took every precautions: masks, face shields, gloves, and sanitary wipes. Avoided public restrooms like a plaque and starved ourselves until we reached our final destination. The anxiety of traveling has mostly absolved to contentment. No one is sick so far. Will still worry for a few more days, but I’ll place that on the back burner for now.

As I have alluded earlier, part of many reasons why we made the trip was for me to safely explore my past. Last two days was an emotional roller coster ride. It was still hard to talk about some of my past in person. It felt overwhelming at times but Dad, Hubby, and I talked and listened. The warmth from the wood burning stove did wonders. It was cathartic.

Last two days I could feel my emotions going all over the place. I’d laugh at one moment, cry at another. I went through anger, fear, joy, and sadness in rapid succession. In moments when I felt I was on verge of losing control, Dad lovingly recentered me through his care and guidance.

There was a moment when I wanted to beat myself up and hide my ugly side, but Dad held me firm and forced me to confront the bully that was Me. With hands bound behind my back, and an arm around my neck, all of a sudden I was restricted unable to move or think…Dad protected me from Me. “Freedom in the chains that bind me” a quote that suddenly made more sense to me now.

I later requested a spanking from Dad. Not really sure why I needed it, but it was worth the ask. To my surprise, both Dad and Hubby agreed under the premise that I communicate truthfully. If there was any hint of eroticism, Dad would stop. Dominants have their limits too, and that’s Dad’s limit with me. I respect that a whole lot. He made sure that the spanking was not punishment but rather a reward. A reward of me being a good girl of using my voice.

At the time when the incessant pain rained on me, I was struggling to grasp why I want a spanking for reward. Then it dawned on me as I stopped struggling against my restraints and surrendered to Dad. The reward wasn’t really the spanking itself per se but it was my act of surrendering and his act of dominance that made me feel secure in his hands. The reward was that feeling of security and peace. When I finally surrendered, all the internal turmoil simply melted away. My need for a spanking stemmed from the need to feel physical pain that distracts or replaces emotional pain. Instead of inflicting pain to myself, I handed that responsibility over to Dad. He was hesitant and fearful that the act may harm my relationship with Hubby, but I am glad that he saw me through. I went into a deep slumber afterwards as Hubby cuddled me. No dreams, no worries, no nothing. The bad memories feel like distant past. When I woke up, the swellings and pain were notable. Every movement reminded me of what had happend. The skin glowed and radiated heat I’ve never felt before. Smile. I am at peace.

Now I finally understand why I wanted to be spanked. The answer has eluded me for so long and the mystery is finally solved. A bit sad that the swelling and brusing will eventually fade away, but the whole purpose is to watch those heal and realizing that most wounds will heal given time and care…

I was not a failure

Since the talk regarding my previous dad, my mind has been doing a lot of time traveling. Not really reliving my past, per se. Just recalling and observing. Dad said not to think too much of that for now, because he wanted to catch me in person if I were to go into a negative spiral. It’s easier said than done. Certain emotions tend to bring out certain memories. When one memory pops up, rest tend to follow. It’s hard sometimes to tell the brain to stop. So I’m coming here more often to write and clear my head.

In the past, whenever I write something, I’d let Hubby and Dad know right away. I’d get their feedbacks and we’d talk after. Recently, I’ve been coming here alone to write. Not even sure why I want this “privacy”. I mean, they can check on this blog any time they want. I just didn’t want to alert them to some of my thoughts right away. I suppose this is a journal of some sort. Just have this odd urge of wanting to distance myself from any of my transient thoughts.

Was flipping through suggested YouTube channels today and stumbled upon a short documentary of an adopted black-asian kid growing up in Shanghai-China. He grew up with his adoptive grandparents and something the grandmother said had struck a cord with me. The grandmother wanted the grandson to succeed not only for himself but for her as well. A little cultural lesson to insert here. In China, it’s really common to see grandparents raising grandchildren while parents were busy off working. I was raised that way. For the first 11 years of my life, I hardly knew my parents other than their voice through our weekly phone calls. So there has always been this saying of making the grandparents proud for kids like me: a product of grandparents’ sweat and tears…

After I came here to live with my parents, I felt personally attacked at times because my personality was not what my parents had expected. I was too shy, was too quiet, too lazy, too slow. Many times, they blamed my grandparents for not raising me right. Some times, I felt the need to defend my grandparents, but most of the time I felt like a failure. I had failed my grandparents because I did not meet my parents standards.

I know now that was not the case. I didn’t fail. In fact, given the circumstances, I did the best I could to represent my grandparents, especially my grandmother. I had showed my parents patience, tolerance, and grace. I never was a brat, I was always considerate even at a young age, I was docile, I was me. I was not a failure but a child who did not fit with their parents ideal image. It still hurts thinking back to those days. I just can’t help it at times to let my mind wander.

I suppose that’s enough of recalling. Only a few more days until Christmas. For those of you parents out there, your kids are not you. Don’t raise them to be like you or push them to acheive a dream you did not acheive. Yes, you created your children. It’s your job to guide them, protect them, and show them way of life. It’s not your job to ask them to be someone they are not.

Honest, not nice

It’s better to be honest, not nice than dishonest, but nice. This is an extension of having a voice. Dad always harps on it and today was my turn to be honest to Dad. It’s extremely uncomfortable for me, the people pleaser, to say something that may hurt or offend Dad. But sticking with Dad’s mantra, I went with the honest route.

We’ve all encountered this scenario at some point in life. With Christmas around the corner, giving and receiving gifts just come with the season. Inevitably, we receive a gift that may not be the best fit, what do we tell that person?! Depends on the situation right? Most of the time, I pretend I really like the gift. Took it home and never to touch it again or I may decide to re-gift that item to someone else whom I think may appreciate it more. Both are not possible options when I opened a box of kitchen knive set from Dad last night. (We decided to open gifts early this year because of our up coming trip, but that will be another story) Anywhoozly, the knives were not what I wanted nor needed…I am looking for a single Chinese chef knife not a set of knives that perform all the functions that a single knife can do…

Rewind back to last year. Dad and I had talked about a type of knife I wanted. We even went to a local butcher shop at one point to look for that particular knife. But it being a small ma and pa shop that served mostly Caucasians (no offence) an every day Chinese chef knife that can cut through bones was a foreign concept for the butcher. Since then, we never spoke of that again. Life got busy and I got distracted, getting a new knife kinda went to the bottom of my wanted list. That is, until last night.

I knew I had to tell Dad that those knives were not a good fit. He tend to follow up on many of his gifts days, weeks, and even year later. He can sniff a lie out from miles away. I had to tell the truth, because he’s going to find out one way or the other. The question is how…Knowing that when Dad send gifts, those gifts were always thoughtful and had always bettered my life in one way or another, I really had a hard time to blurt out whats on my mind. So I remembered the mantra of honest and not nice…

Today on the phone, I was about to blurt out my premade speech, Dad, as if reading my mind, reminded me of honest and not nice. “How?!” Was all I managed to ask. He just chuckled and said he knew the moment I opened that box. So, out came my thoughts and reasonings behind why those knives were not a good fit and such and such knife may be. He listened and took mental notes. As we talked more, I came to learn that he bought that set as a prompt for me to start researching for the knife I wanted. He knew he may be off the mark, but the act of gifting would be enough for me to start looking again. All of a sudden, his intention became clear and I am still amazed at his ability to lay down a path miles ahead for me to follow.

You see, last month I decided to cut back my work hours because Hubby and I are financially sound. More hours at home meant more time for me to experiment in the kitchen. Whats the most important tool an aspiring home chef need? A good quality knife. Dad saw all of that coming and he acted before I realized. So I spent my day today searching for that perfect fit while pondering the meaning of gifting.

Spoke to Hubby that finding a perfect gift should not be a chore. If we truly don’t know what the person need, just ask and seek feed backs. Treat it as a bonding experience. By understanding that gift, you understand a part of that person as well. In a way, the process of finding that gift is more valuable than the gift itself. Afterall, you can’t place a price tag on your love and care for the person who’s have a significant impact on your life.

Happy Holidays everyone.

Stay safe!

Having a Voice

Dad’s most important mantra for me or anyone important in his life is to have a voice. We all have it, but not all of us use it.

It’s not hard to find my voice when life was good. But when life was rough, my first instinct was to bottle up and pretend everything was okay. That pretty much was how I was raised. When problems came up, everything was “fine” so that I was not a bother to anyone else. To intentionally worry someone else was considered rude. It was an odd way of being polite I suppose. No wonder mental health was one of those most overlooked aspect of one’s well-being in a lot of asian cultures.

Looking back in my life, there were a lot of problems that could be solved if people were to simply speak up. Admitting that they need help or admitting that they feel lost or confused or frustrated or any range of emotions is a huge step towards effective communication. Took me a while to finally see the importance of that voice. Certainly took a lot of patience on Dad’s end to get me talking about my real problems. It’s not fair that a lot of times he knew what I was struggling with, but would wait for me to find my voice first before he offered any advice or comfort. But during those time of struggle, I slowly learned to recognize my emotions from my thoughts. I learned to set aside those emotions and convey my thoughts. Things that truly bothered me and steps to solve those problems.

It wasn’t easy initially. In first year or two, I’d find my voice through my emails to Dad. Often times when I spoke to Dad about certain difficult subjects, I get choked up with emotions or I blank out because the noise in my head would prevent me from having any coherent thoughts. After my evening chat with him, I’d spend some quiet time to reflect on what I wanted to say. Writing those thoughts down definitely helped. So I kept at it. Day after day, weeks after weeks. As time went on, I wrote less and less. As I start to understand more of myself and the way I think and feel, I find it a lot easier now voicing my problem and concerns. It’s freeing in away because I can share my burden with someone else. I am not expecting Dad to solve most of my problems, but for him to understand and empathize is enough support for me to find my own answers.

Dad often said that I don’t need to fight a battle alone. I just need to use my voice and help will be there when needed. Am I perfect at finding my voice now? Hell no. I am a girl afterall.

A Story of Two Dads

I have two dads. Well if I want to be technical, I have three dads. I was adopted when I was just 5 months old, so my memory of my biological father is non-existent. That pretty much leaves me with two dads. The dad I grew up with was domineering. I’ve never experienced any physical abuse from him, but he’s done plenty psychological damage that I’d feel even to this day. My current Dad is a dominant. For the past three years we’ve known eachother, he’s undone a lot of damage that my previous dad had inflicted and showed me a kind of paternal love I’ve never experienced.

Two nights ago, I had a nightmare about my previous dad. I felt trapped and terrified to have to go back to my old house to face him. Woke up in a cold sweat and texted Dad briefly about my dream. Dad offered to call, but feeling a bit overly dramatic, I told him I was fine and struggled to go back to sleep. Next morning, on my way to work, I told Dad in detail of what had happend in my dream. Dad explained that the shadow casted by my previous dad is like a boogy man that sometime hunts me when least expected. I haven’t thought much about that man, but when I do, I’d feel my chest tighten ready for fight for flight. Never saw that as an anxiety attack, but it was very much so as Dad had pointed out later.

I’ve cut ties with my previous dad after mom passed away. It’s been years since I’ve last seen or talked to him. There were a lot of legal dispute left tangled between him and I. In his mind he “won”. It was unfair to say the least and he took advantage of whom I was and had gotten away with a lot of the bad things he had done. I was fighting him alone at that time and didn’t have the strength to stand up for my self. I ran away from him and closed that chapter with much resentment and hurt…but now with support of Dad and Hubby…we are actually thinking of revisiting that horrible chapter. It’s not really for money per se but for justice. A closure that I need to fight back the boogy man…An unthinkable is now something that has been occupying my mind lately.

I can feel my heart racing and hand sweating just at the thought of confronting him. Honestly told Dad that I still do not have the courage to face previous dad alone. Dad mentioned not to worry. We will work at my own pace and stop when I need to. It’s about healing not revenge. May hurt a bit during the process but should never aim to do more damage. Told Dad that I want a win-win outcome this time. I wish no harm to my previous father, but at the same time I want a peaceful resolution so that the boogy man no longer exist in little girl’s world. “We will try” Dad said “we will try”


An odd article recently popped up on my BBC news feed that there is a guy in Sweden who practices therapeutic shibari on people who may benefit from being bound. It immediately piqued my interest and the submissive side of me waited patiently and breached the subject to Dad that same day. For those who just joined my blog, Dad has been very adamant and very careful about not doing any “kink” related activities between him and I. He’s more than happy to answer any questions Hubby and I have relating to kink, but he actively avoids that type of relationship between him and I.

That and along with not being able to assign Dad any other lables other than Dad has been a huge source of frustration to her, the submissive. So when I tentatively asked him if he’d be interested in tying me up in a platonic way just to quiet my mind, I wasn’t expecting much other than another firm “no”. To my surprise, he agreed. The door finally cracked open… well just a little bit.

The irony to the whole situation is that I am so used to Dad saying no, I don’t know what to react when he said yes. Her mind is not racing in a sub frenzy way as I would’ve expected. She is actually approaching this in a calm and rational manner. She communicated with rest of me and we approached Hubby with the news. Initially she was sure she wanted it and needed it, but as we sat down and talked more, we realized the danger of it and she grew hesitant and called it off with Dad. Until Hubby and I are both okay, we will not proceed. That’s the rule set by Dad and she wants to dig deep to see if Hubby is truly okay with that.

You see, currently Hubby is not actively engaged with the submissive side of me. To be frank, he don’t really understand her. He’s grown somewhat apathetic towards her as she‘s mostly taken care of by Dad. Hubby just, over time, grew apart from her. He is still close to the little girl and big girl part of me, but he has little to no connection to her. She is worried that if she was to allow Dad to tie her up, she‘d grow more distant from Hubby and closer to Dad. Therefore putting a strain on the marriage. It’s a real danger. she knows it, Hubby knows it, and Dad knows it as well. An physical act of submission can be extremely sacred to her. Had expressed to Hubby that even a simple act of kneeling by Dad’s side (if Dad allows) can have a profound impact on her psyche. If Hubby remains apathetic towards her, then she’d rather forego her desires and preserve the marriage…As painful as it maybe for her, it will be more painful if our marriage goes down the drain.

That talk seemed to have triggered something in Hubby. He expressed that he will no longer hide from her and will at least try to understand her. Whether or not he will get “It” does not really matter that much anymore. As long as Hubby is actively engaging with her and trying to understand her, she will feel more comfortable with trying therapeutic bondage with Dad.

At this point, it’s up to Dad to decide what to do and it’s up to Hubby to put in the effort in understanding her. As far as she goes, she is just happy that Dad has yielded a little to her desire. She is just simply content at current turn of events and dared not to ask for more. Looking forward to Hubby’s reintroduction to her, and looking forward to what the future will hold.