WARNING! Grown-up and personal post!

You've been warned. If there's things you think you don't want to know about me and my personal habits, just don't read this.

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I've decided to go through a period of abstinence as a test of not only my will and mental ability but to see if I can get some feeling back into my old boy. Having a high libido and a very inactive sex life appears to be something of a curse as my regular routine of stress relief, and my method of achieving release, appears to have taken away a lot of the natural sensation I used to have. It now takes me a good ten or fifteen minutes to get where I want to be and while it's fun and ultimately satisfying I know that if I carry on this way, when I finally get get going with a partner I won't be able to finish without doing it myself.

This has been an issue for a fair while - three or four years. With two partners I had - the last almost three years ago - I had real difficulty finishing not only psychologically but physically as well. I know the reasons behind the psychological issues and I feel completely capable of getting past those now, but the physical side of things is different.

It's for this reason that I'm trying to back off from my regular one or two a day. Most often, two? Yes. Is that lots? I don't know, maybe. Is it bad? No, it's brilliant. It's become routine, like something nice I do when I wake up and a treat before I go to sleep. That sounds kind of trivial now I mention it; it should be a treat but treats should only be taken occasionally else the shine wears off them. I guess we'd get bored of sex if we had it once or twice a day. Okay, personally I might not get 'bored' of sex as such... but I think my point is clear.

What this does mean is that I'll have an extra fifteen or twenty minutes free most mornings to do all those things I don't get a chance to do, like make sandwiches or have an extra shower. Nice. It also means that I can build my confidence in my ability to stop doing just about anything that's become routine. I managed it to a reasonable extent with lots of things - cigarettes, weed, alcohol, ready meals, junk food and crisps. That I get myself into these things in the first place is a whole other matter, but it's nice to see a pattern of recognition and strength in my behaviour when it comes to things I need to change.

My walking moved to a new level last week

in a purely metaphorical sense with the first 'official' client for my walking charity Walking for Wellbeing. Eight and a half miles of beautiful countryside, lots of listening and gentle questions and nudging the conversation in certain directions and she seemed to make real progress, just from having someone to talk to. I know from my own experience how helpful it can be to get things out of your brain and into words, but I wasn't really prepared for how much progress she'd make in the four or five hours we spent walking, resting and eating.

The whole process, taking her on with the charity, organising the walk, going out with her and listening, watching that progress being made has filled me with so much joy and satisfaction and given me such a buzz I don't know how to describe it. I even enjoyed sitting down for an hour afterward and writing up notes, making observations on what she said and how the whole thing went. It was a week ago now and I'm still feeling an overwhelming sense of achievement and I'm sure I will after our next walk in a week's time. I think I may have got lucky in that this client was one of my test cases last year so we've already done the introductory and getting-to-know-you stuff but I really enjoyed that too.

I'm incredibly pleased with myself. I've always had faith in the idea and the positive work that could be done with the concept, and it's brilliant to see that come to something. I'm feeling very smug and if I can't do that on my own blog, where can I do it?

During my own therapy I related a story about feeling uncomfortable receiving many wonderful gifts at my thirtieth birthday party. My self-esteem was rock-bottom and I had difficulty accepting the gifts because I didn't feel I deserved them and I felt like I should refuse to accept them. My therapist assured me that the person giving the gift derived pleasure from doing so, and that's kind of how I see this project. I give someone the gift of the great outdoors and an ear to bend, and if they accept it and enjoy it, I get pleasure from that.

I have to keep resisting the urge to pat myself on the back and big myself up but I'm not sure why I feel the need to stop myself. I know there's a fine line between being pleased with oneself and being smug and I guess I'm wary of crossing it, but I'm happy to accept praise from me directed at me occasionally and this time I think I deserve it.

I had a horrible dream last night

where daughter lowered herself out of a high window to climb down to the ground as some kind of extreme sport. I felt quite confident she'd make it and she was smiling as she lifted herself over the cill. She lost her grip as she dangled and started falling, clear as day in my mind. Her destination zoomed gently away as if in a movie, the whole scene stretching like some camera trickery. I said 'Oh god' and daughter's name over and over as she fell and as she neared the ground I knew she wouldn't survive. She started to float back and forth like a leaf and grabbed for a railing. I was sure her arms would be pulled from their sockets but I yelled to ask if she was ok and she shouted she was. I woke up immediately feeling horrible but as it was almost time to get up anyway I dusted myself off and started my day.

I know why I had this dream; I was given some news yesterday which reminded me how fragile life is and how easily events can screw good things up. A colleague's daughter was hit by a car in their home town and rushed straight to hospital, transferred to a specialist unit and underwent brain surgery. From the brief chat I had with another colleague the prognosis wasn't very positive and it made me sad to picture the hurt he must be feeling at having his daughter so cruelly nudged closer to the edge of the window. He has been on a low for some time, work has been slow and he's in debt and almost unable to pay his mortgage, and now this. I can't imagine where he's getting his strength although I know his family, friends, colleagues and religion will all support his family.

I made a point of hugging daughter before bed last night. I told her a short version of this story and told her I love her. It doesn't take big events or strange dreams to remind me that I love her - her presence, the things she says and the actions she makes every day remind me well enough. But sometimes it's good to let it out.

I spent thirteen years secure in my fatherhood

until, perhaps, the moment daughter got a Facebook account. Now her social life is exploding, not just thanks to Facebook but to her outgoing attitude and recent exploration of youth and music clubs. She seems to have made friends with a nice bunch of people and has spent much of this Easter holiday hanging out with various new people and people she knows from clubs and schools. It's quite lovely to see her going from a somewhat meek and compliant schoolgirl tied-up in playground politics to a functioning and confident member of a wider friendship group.

Over the years, when faced with allegations that I'd be more protective, I'd hate her boyfriends and worry constantly about her as she got older I was always nonchalant and dismissive because I'm a cool cat, relaxed and chilled, man, and daughter has always shown that she's bright and self-aware and quite mature in her ways. In practice now that I'm faced with the task of letting her become more independent and distancing herself from my care and conversation I'm finding it harder than I thought I would, because I've been a full-time parent for a year now. If things had been as they were, I'd see daughter for one weekend a fortnight and maybe occasionally during the intervening days. I think I've been gifted with her final days before she grows up, and I'm eternally grateful for that. If she'd come to live with me now, our reasonably trouble-free integation might have been a completely different story as it would have come as a shock how self-reliant - or friend-reliant - she's become.

That's not to say she doesn't need her daddy any more - I'm sure (and hope!) that'll never be the case. She got a bit of a reality check on Sunday in the form of contact with the police, not because they'd done anything wrong but because one of the group was very worried about someone and called the police for help. You can imagine my surprise when she called me saying she was with the police but not to worry for the above reason - apparently my face gave away the impact it had on me - but my pleasant surprise when she asked me to come and get her and seeked a hug when I did was very fulfilling. I'm very pleased someone had the presence of mind to call the police - the reason was quite serious - and many of them stuck together and waited for the police to come, while others slinked off into the afternoon.

I've always been pretty easy-going when it comes to letting her do her own thing, but that's become harder now she's hanging around with kids slightly older than her. It's something we've all done and I think it'll do her good; maybe this group have gone beyond the catty in-fighting which seems central to her friendship groups at school, and maybe they can concentrate on the fun things about being a teenager while exploring what it's like to be an adult within a safe and tight group of friends. That's my hope, anyway, and I'm crossing my fingers that she gets the opportunity to spend time with these people at school too. Maybe her classmates will see what they're missing.

In loosening the apron strings a little, I'm hoping to give daughter the space she needs to become an adult without going too far and leaving her high and dry. Hopefully she can see that I'll always be there for her if she needs me, and will learn not to neglect me, and appreciate the respect I have for her in letting her be her own person. Finding a balance between overbearing and too hands-off is proving harder than I thought it would, but I'm really enjoying the challenge.

We've been back to reality for a week

after our short break away to Cornwall to see daughter's grandparents. The little car was fun, the drive down was really nice with beautiful views either side of the carriageway, very little traffic and some music to keep us in good spirits. Thanks to an early departure we arrived at lunchtime and were very warmly welcomed by grandma, filled with tea and sandwiches within twenty minutes of getting in and offered maps of the local area to get our bearings. One of my main aims of the trip was to get a good cliff or beach walk in and after a little planning, the following morning I was offered everything I needed to construct a hearty packed lunch, caught the bus up the coast and walked my legs off.

Such was the relentless undulation of the cliffs I really expected my legs to ache like hell the following day but they were fine. I consider the walk to be one of my finest achievements over the past year because I know the climbs and descents would have completely broken me eighteen months ago, and it was definitely a highlight of the whole trip.

The following day was one of relaxation, followed by a trip to the south coast to visit internet friends. It was one of the best nights out in a long time and I definitely plan to meet up with them again. I didn't get horribly drunk - again - which could so easily have happened a year ago. Everyone was so open and confident and funny that I felt so comfortable in their company, which I think says as much about me as it does about them. Again, I'm proud for being myself, not getting out-of-control and getting some lovely compliments, which I accepted graciously instead of letting them bounce off.

The rest of the trip involved visiting the local beach and waterfall and investigating a cave and building an awesome dam, getting well-fed by grandma, buying fish and chips for the four of us, a trip to another beach where our boots were inundated with seawater as it raced up the inlet, a good few beers and chats with grandpa - and daughter calls me cynical! - and a reasonably easy journey home. I had mixed feelings about coming back; everyone loves their home comforts but it was incredibly lovely to be looked after for five days. We wouldn't have received such service anywhere else and I'm incredibly grateful to daughter's grandparents for letting me into their home and treating me like one of the family. When I said this to grandma, she said 'You brought me my granddaughter!' but I know it goes further than that.

I did notice something a bit odd but not surprising: among the multitude of lovely photographs of parents and grandparents and grandchildren and their high-flying son, I couldn't find a single photo of their daughter, my daughter's mother, on display anywhere in the house. Not one. I found it odd because I know that grandma will never, ever lose hope that her daughter will sort her life out, but I'm not surprised because I think deep down she may have come to terms with the idea that it might never happen.

It was nice to get home, even nicer to have the cobwebs blown out and have some different surroundings to explore and enjoy, new people to meet, new conversations to have and new paths to walk. It changed my perspective on my home life somewhat, for the better, and I hope we can get away again, somewhere, sometime over the next year.