I like to think I'm a good dad

as I'm sure most parents do, so after going off on one about the state of daughter's bedroom a couple of nights ago I spent some time thinking about my reaction and looking on the internet for inspiration for how to deal with it.

I spent the first thirty-two years of my life being incredibly messy. My god, if there were photos of some of the messes I've let my dwellings get into I'd be ashamed to post them here. It's safe to say that for various reasons I was incredibly lazy in terms of keeping tidy and often let things get completely out of hand before taking weeks or months to do anything about it. I absolutely hated it, but wouldn't change - in part, I guess, down to depression and self-destruction.

More recently, since I got my head in order I've been more organised and regimented in keeping my surroundings reasonably tidy. This has been increasingly difficult since daughter moved in as the amount of stuff in the house has literally doubled. It's a tiny living space as it is and most of our lives are currently in the loft.

I've known for a while now that daughter is naturally messy. What with me and her stepdad as inspiration, she's learned from the masters. Her mum tries to be tidy I think, but that's not filtered through to daughter and I think my reaction to her messy room the other day shows why. Keeping a room tidy is seen as a chore, something you're ordered to do under pain of punishment. Kids go through a cycle of making a mess and being forced to clean it up by a parent unhappy about standing on hair-clips or having to sort through a mountain of clean and dirty clothes. Something on the internet said that the reason most teenagers are messy is because they haven't learned to be tidy, so I hoped to teach daughter how to keep her room in order.

I came up with a simple strategy. While she was out at her club, I tidied her room and made sure everything had a 'home'. Books, papers, CDs, hair bands, jewellery, teddies, bits and bobs all have a place to live and go back to when finished with. I tidied it top-to-bottom - it took me two hours and looked amazing. I cleared out a fair amount of clutter and put it in the loft. When she came home she was so surprised and really happy. I said 'Wouldn't it be amazing if it was like this every time you came in here?' and typically she rolled her eyes at me. I told her the only reason she's messy is because she hasn't learned to be tidy, and introduced the concept that every single item in her room has a 'home' which is in a drawer or cupboard or on a shelf - not on the floor. Hopefully with some encouragement and praise she can learn where everything lives and continue to keep the room tidy, and I can stop getting stressed about it.

My relationship with alcohol

has generally had its ups and downs over the past ten years. I've been close to crushing alcoholism, been the life and soul of the party one minute and a terrible bastard the next, drank myself up and drank myself down. It's been a real roller-coaster but over the past twelve months I've found myself more in control of my drinking and much more confident as a result. I drink considerably less during the week now and only occasionally on the weekends which is a massive improvement on a year ago when I'd drink to relieve boredom. There've been a couple of indiscretions, but mostly I've been in control, understood my limits and even not drunk a drop on social occasions, much to the surprise of not only my friends but me too.

On reflection, something which is affecting me now has been happening for a few years in the most part. If I have more than a couple of drinks, my sleep is incredibly restless and I find myself waking up long before I'm ready, sometimes three or four hours before I'd naturally wake up. Once awake, I can't get back to sleep and usually turn the tv or the internet on. Only after a couple of hours being awake do I feel tired again, by which time it's either time for work or daughter's due up and it's not worth me drifting off again.

I see this as a mixed blessing. Sleep is so precious to me that losing it in this way has put me off drinking at all. Now, when I think about getting a beer my brain goes 'bad sleep!' and I'm instantly put off the idea. This is a good thing, but I'd love to be able to have a drink every now and again and get a long comfortable slumber like I used to.

What it means though is that I'm generally more switched-on and healthy, I'm less tipsy less often especially around daughter, and I'm taking in much fewer calories than I was, which can only be good things. My hand has kind of been forced much like it was with weed, but I'm not really complaining. I've always known the benefits of drinking less and being coerced into doing so is no reason not to enjoy the benefits.

The right kind of spanner

was thrown into the works yesterday as I discussed my business plans with my entrepreneurial brother. He told me that at their workshop they'd been discussing their requirement for someone in the office to do admin, update the web sites and design leaflets - all stuff I'm entirely capable of doing. The pay would instantly increase my income by 75% with a view to double that eventually. People say money doesn't buy you happiness, he said, but they're completely wrong. He associated my history of mental health issues with never having any money, and said now he's better-off he doesn't have to worry about anything at all. If he has a problem, he throws money at it and it gets sorted.

While that does sound kinda sweet, it's not me. Bro is entirely that person - driven, successful, a go-getter, charismatic and charming, good-looking and buff, always chasing the bigger and better. He is what many people call 'a cunt' but he's also a top bloke and I love him to bits.

Me, I'm different, and more aware of myself than I've ever been. I'm determined to get my own small business off the ground to show me I can actually do something worthwhile, that I can start something and finish it and make a success of it. I've known for a long while that sitting in an office in front of a computer pumping out design and data and communication really isn't my thing, and no amount of money will ease the potential for hating my job and it dragging me down into a dark place. The outcome of that would be having to let my brother down (again), quit and find another job or try to start this business when at the bottom of my game, and that's not something I'm prepared to risk. Not only would it be an investment of time and money and effort on on my brother's part and while I know he's more than willing to take the risk and give me the chance to prove myself, I'm reasonably sure it's a dead cert I'll fuck it up.

It's not only this that's stopping me considering it. I'll happily admit I'm scared of letting him down and disgracing myself openly in front of my family and colleagues, but it's much more than that. Since I stopped cleaning windows more than two and a half years ago, I've craved the outdoors and the activity and the driving around. I don't care about the cold or the rain, the dirt or the ladders, the money collections or the admin, the leafleting or the pricing. Doing those things for myself, getting work from people, completing it and getting paid for it, all off my own back, is something I have to do. I want to provide a reasonable income for daughter and I and respect myself for building up a good income from nothing. I know I can do the work and enjoy it, I know the work is out there, and I know how to get it.

Bro is hopefully coming over on Saturday to discuss the business prospects and help get me on my way. It's crossed my mind that I might ask him to fund the business start-up in return for, say, twenty days work over six months for his business, which might suit us both. Who knows, but it's great that we're open enough to discuss the nuances of each other's personalities and finances.

I'm pleased I've finally taken the plunge and asked him to come over. I need to keep the momentum going with the business and get it launched while the spring is... springing.

She said

"She said it seemed pointless for me to see her today on my birthday as it'd only be for a couple of hours between school and us going out for dinner, so can we do it tomorrow instead? I don't know if I want to see her or go to the club, because she'll probably only say she's got to *air quotes* work after I've been there two hours anyway."

I gave her a hug when she said this as we walked into town for her birthday meal. She seemed very happy despite her mother's indiscretions; she'd been the centre of attention a couple of times at school, once because all the girls in the changing room sang Happy Birthday really loudly for her, and the other because she totally crashed onto the teacher while attempting a vault in PE. She'd opened a few lovely presents from various branches of family in the morning, a few more on returning from school and some gifts from me shortly before going out. She loved her gold sleeper studs which I've wanted to get her for a while but the cost has been prohibitive.

So, as we walked to the Chinese restaurant she came out with this phrase. It's the first time I've heard her actively predicting that her mum will mess her around, and certainly the first time I've heard her express a simple choice between something like her club and seeing her mum.

This is what it's come down to. Her mum's been so lax and apathetic in her contact with her daughter that she's tempted to go and hang out with a few girls of varying ages at her 'support club'. Mummy or club? If it were Daddy or club, I'd make absolutely sure that I was the more attractive option... In fact, no. I'd never let our relationship be in a position where the question needs to be asked in the first place.

Her mother made no effort over the past week to make arrangements to see daughter on her birthday. When daughter finally texted her to ask if she wanted to meet up, she effectively told her 'I don't care if you're going for dinner with Daddy, it's a mother's right to see her daughter on her birthday.' When daughter tried to arrange to see her on Sunday, she was told mummy would phone back within a couple of hours. Guess what? No phone call, no text, nothing. It was up to daughter to chase her mother, and nothing came of it. Eventually, she went to see an ex-friend of her mum's and by all accounts spent a few hours bad-mouthing her. This ex-friend, who's incredibly sweet and really adores daughter, ultimately saw through her mum's lies and deceptions and was even hit by her once. So, after being disappointed for the umpteenth time, daughter went to this lady's house and probably slagged her mum off over a cup of tea and a biscuit. This is evidenced by a couple of facts daughter passed on yesterday - she never actually worked 'there' or she did 'such and such'.

I'm constantly confused by her mother's nonchalant attitude towards her daughter, especially on such special occasions as her becoming a teenager. It baffles me that someone can do these things to someone they purportedly love and cherish, yet still carry on as if everything's fine, no worries, they'll love me unconditionally no matter what I turn into. Totally out of the ballpark.

It's superbly comforting and quite telling that despite all this, daughter is pretty happy and balanced overall. It shows that she's a real tough cookie, that the support she's receiving from people such as her grandparents, school friends and counsellor is really helping, and that the stability at home over the past ten months has been a very positive influence.