Daughter's back

and there's nothing like a few days apart to help you appreciate why you love someone so much.

Separation from daughter is a completely natural thing for me. Until a year and a half ago, it was the permanent situation. She'd visit every other weekend, we'd hang out and she'd return home on a Sunday evening. There'd be a twelve-day gap between visits. It's just the way things were.

I knew that I missed her terribly when she was with her mother, but I buried it. From one to twelve years old, every fortnight when it was possible, daughter and daddy came together, shared a life and moved apart. The anxiety experienced when separating became as routine as the Saturday-morning cartoons or Sunday-afternoon swim. The tears and butterflies evolved into a kiss and a cuddle and a "Love you, see you soon."

When she moved in at Easter last year I didn't dare dream it'd be for good. Any possibility that it might be permanent was buried. As the situation progressed it seemed that her mother wasn't moving forward with her life and daughter would be staying with me. Now we're in a lovely day-to-day routine, although because she's spreading her social wings I've had to learn to let her go again. This has been difficult, not least because it only seems like a brief instant we've been close.

So, after four days away we sat and ate Ben & Jerry's and talked through what she did on her first youth club residential and her first trip to a nightclub. She was so happy and effusive - once I asked the right questions - and reeled off lots of exciting things she'd done and memories that will stick with her forever. That half an hour was one of the nicest we've spent together for a while. We followed it up by pitching and taking down a new tent I'd bought for our short road trip coming up in a fortnight, which was fun too. Then, a little tv, dinner, and off she goes again to youth club.

Letting go is hard. Very hard. But it's wonderful to watch your butterfly learn how to use her wings.

I can't help but admit the feeling

that previously, I was steeled and shielded against my depression creeping back by an emotional resolve and confidence. Simply admitting the possibility that I could be fallible and susceptable to a relapse seems to have let it in and it's rearing its ugly, cloud-bearing head.

I suspect a part of this has come from reading books on counselling and listening skills and relating my situation to what I'm learning from the books and observing in other's behaviour. Another is that I don't have very much normal adult interaction - I'm not as socially active as I'd like to be and I don't see as much of my friends as I'd like to, meaning I don't have a real outlet for much of my thoughts, fears and aspirations.

I'm starting to feel like a bit of a broken record posting this, but lately I've been feeling the loneliness. I think that since things have settled down into a routine at home I've lamented being single and not having someone around to share my life with. I see the relationship dynamic in action with many of my friends and I have to admit I'm rather envious. I've spent much of the last few years at ease with being single but if I'm honest, that's because I've hidden behind a river of cider and a mountain of crisps. Now that I've cleaned-up my act and my diet, and as my emotional needs become apparent, I feel the solitude more than ever.

So, what to do? A friend suggested internet dating, speed dating and the like; my reaction was simple. I'd prefer to meet someone the old-fashioned way, meet someone new and get to know them, find a spark and perhaps turn that into a relationship. I find these dating services to be incredibly 'forced' and they create an aura of desperation that really turns me off. Am I wrong to want to follow tradition and try to meet Miss Right without skim-reading hundreds of profiles online? Maybe. Am I limiting my options for finding love? Probably. But I feel it'd mean more, be more tangible, to do it naturally, than to force it by joining a dating service.

I guess if I was just looking for a physical relatonship then dating sites would be the way forward. I'm sure there's masses of normal women on match.com that are looking for a meaningful relationship, but it just doesn't do it for me.

One of the limiting factors in this whole situation is where I live. This is a town people grow up in, then move away from. There's not much to keep people here, but it suits my country upbringing perfectly. The issue is that many people who live here are commuter-belt-seeking families with 2.4 cars and a veneer of Ikea-designed middle-class. Not only does that clash somewhat with this very local boy with a Wingdings tattoo on his arm, but it means most of the local women in my range are preoccupied with trivial stuff like marriage and pre-schools and lawns and fabric swatches. To be frank, there's not much eligible 'talent' locally and I'm not even particularly picky.

I realise that starting a post by saying I'm close to the edge of depression then claiming I want a girlfriend isn't going to win over the ladies but screw it, this isn't a lonely hearts ad. I know that finding a partner isn't going to solve my emotional hangups, but I'd like to hope I could find someone with a good ear and who's willing to listen to help me become a better person. I was mostly fixed anyway and it's a lack of someone to talk to that's let me get to the edge of the slippery slope.

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In somewhat better news, I mentioned to my landlady yesterday that I needed a letter proving my residence to support our application for a council house. This is a big step; part of delaying the application has been an unease with telling her that we would be looking for somewhere else to live. Bless her, I shouldn't have worried. As ever, she was supportive and pleased for us. I've just set a reminder to get a passport-sized photo for the application and there's only a couple of other bits I need to get together before I can submit it. Getting the form in to the council will be a big boost and will take some of the pressure off my shoulders.

It's time. We deserve it.

Yesterday's post was to make a point

I didn't get around to making. It was an observation that, having made a few phone calls to find out how to gain Parental Responsibility for daughter, once the going got a bit tough I gave up, closed in and switched my mind off the subject.

This is a typical reaction to something which is likely to cause me stress or frustration. I shy away from challenges which will bring me down before resolving to a positive climax. I guess I'm trying to protect myself, but from what.

I'm interested in the answer to that, so I'll ask myself a question. Can you remember a time when you made plans but they fell through and caused you stress?

When I met daughter's mother, aged 20, I was a stoned, naïve grunge/jungle hybrid barely experienced in relationships but naturally-talented with computers. I had a job where I was effectively idolised for being gifted and able to solve most computer issues with very little effort. I was completely at ease in the situation and when they offered to send me to Australia for six months or so to develop the systems in their office I jumped at the chance.

A couple of months after I agreed to go, when plans were in place and flights had been reserved, pregnancy was announced and, because she'd be heavily pregnant for the return flight, the whole deal was cancelled. No dream trip to the other side of the world. No urban integration. No cultural expansion. I was gutted, not just because of the lost experience but because I'd failed in front of all my colleagues and family.

Looking back at that I can see why I might shy away from making plans that might fall through, and why I'd avoid stressful actions even if there was the possibility of a positive reward. I don't think it necessarily gets to the root of the issue, but it's definitely interesting to see how events in your past can shape your actions and reactions in the present.

Today I made a few phone calls and enquries

about gaining Parental Responsibility for my daughter. Because legal Parental Responsibility wasn't automatic for fathers before 2003, I have to get it by one of two means: first, her mother and I fill out forms and take them to court to be processed by a judge. I don't see this as very likely to happen, simply because I can't imagine her mother being cooperative. Second, I go to a solicitor and they ask the mother to cooperate; if she doesn't, they can apply directly to the court for an order.

I've been to the solicitor twice to follow this through, and twice I've failed. I know exactly why and I'd like to clarify that now before I go any futher. Again, two reasons:

Asking daughter's mother is likely to open a can of worms
I've written previously that almost every interaction or negotiation with daughter's mother has ended up with me coming off worse. Whether big or small, she used to make life difficult for me in whatever way she could when it came to talking about access or money or events or problems. It never was a two-way relationship between her and I; although I'm surely biased I feel like she always took while I always gave, both when we were together and for ten years after we split up. Her position as "parent-with-care" gave her the power and she totally loved that, wielding it whenever she felt like she could put me down or spoil my day. That went on for a fair while, at least until her last child was born and she mellowed out a bit. Even after that, it was often a roller-coaster and I've always dreaded any kind of interaction with her.

It's true that previously she's held "all the cards" in terms of being able to restrict access to daughter, bad-mouth me, or whatever, but this is all seriously in the past now. Not least has daughter been living with me for almost 18 months, but this is all based on the person she was at least 18 months ago, and for the ten-ish years previous to that. I'm 99.9% sure she hasn't changed at all in the past year and a half, perhaps becoming more bitter, distant and devious.

Who knows? But writing this out has got me thinking. As a related aside, I recently offered someone advice about seeking help for symptoms of depression. During part of the chat, I said

"Many of our coping strategies and defence mechanisms are out-of-date. Perhaps they served us well at the time we developed them and we relied on them to get through a period of our lives, but now they may be out-moded, stale and at worst a hindrance to progressing through life."

This sounds exactly like what I'm describing above. The dread I feel when I think about this woman, the switching-off, the enclosing myself in cotton-wool, the shielding and meek demeanour… it's all old reactions, old strategies.

I'm different now. I'm stronger, more self-aware. I'm a single father. I've taken responsibility for my daughter and given her a stable, secure and honest life. I've taken responsibility for myself and developed my emotions and personality way beyond any expectations I could have had when I started the process. I'm reasonably happy, and daughter seems so too. A close friend recently said "It's all thanks to you, that," and I baulked, but realise now that I should let that in. Referring back to something else I wrote recently about accepting compliments and letting them build my self-esteem – my instant reaction to that comment was defensive but I should let it in.

So, having got my head around what I'm doing and why, maybe I can move past that now and see the situation for what it is. Positive, constructive, off my own back and secure. Result.

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OK, rewind. I said there were two reasons why I'd failed to follow-through with gaining Parental Responsibility for daughter, and here's the second:

I try to stay off HMRC and Inland Revenue's radar.

That's not to say I avoid paying tax. OK, to an extent, that's right. But it's a combination of failings, not only in me but in an odd, complex and incredibly unhelpful system.

About five years ago, my brother started a company and I went to work for him. I was self-employed and his advice to me – I remember it as clear as yesterday - was to make sure I saved at least 30% of my pay to give to my accountant, so he can pay my income tax and National Insurance.

Of course I'd do that. Not this month, though. What a lovely pay-packet. I'm going to spend all of this one, then start saving next month. Oops, nope, not this month, but definitely next month! Etc, etc, on and on until three or four years later things have cascaded, I'm seriously depressed and wasting money like it's going out of fashion, I owe my accountant money, I'm liable for an "estimated" £5,000 or £6,000 of income tax and I've not saved a single penny towards the payment. So, I did what I was so positively capable of doing at the time and buried my head in the sand.

The Revenue chased me a couple of times, put me on payment plans and the like. They still send me tax returns and statements and reminders and fines because I simply haven't submitted a tax return, payment or letter telling them I'm still alive in the past four years. So terrible is my memory, my ability to keep records and my lack of a proper bank account over the past five years that I've no idea where I worked, when and for how much. It would be incredibly difficult to work it all out and submit back-dated returns to see how much I actually owe, and bloody tough to pay it back because I don't physically have the money to do so.

This keeps me from even applying for Child Tax Credits, which I'm aware might flash my name up on a computer somewhere and I'll be under investigation and liable for thousands of pounds of tax. And, finally, to the point: It's stopping me claiming full-blown legal financial assistance with my solicitor for exactly the same reason, and I'm sure the solicitor will want to see a tax return or confirm details with the Revenue, and that's when my status as a tax-dodging bastard would become apparent.

I don't deny that I owe tax. I owe this country a hell of a lot in terms of medical care, schooling, services and the like and I'd be happy to pay if it was taken out of my wages at source. I wish it had have been, all this time. I wish I'd had less free money in exchange for getting this monkey off my back. But hopefully the picture I've painted has helped you understand why I'm so terrified of getting it sorted out. I've never had much money, and still don't really, with a child at home and an incredibly low-paying job. Child Tax Credits would definitely keep us in Mars Bars, but I'm so scared of applying that the chances are we'll just continue living close to the edge.

I honestly have no fucking clue what I'm going to do about the income tax situation, but I know it's holding me back and I'd like to get some advice on where to go now.

So, there we go. Some solutions, some admissions and some real, tangible fear. Maybe in all this swirling confusion there's a glimmer of hope that I could start sorting my financial obligations out and take off some of the weight that pushes onto my spine every single day, even days I don't actively think about it. There's definitely the sowing of a seed of confidence and posture that shows I can take on Parental Responsibility without fear of awakening 'the beast'.

I do think I should have written those the other way around, though. I felt great after I'd written the first half but now, having run through the realisations and emotions involved in the tax situation, I feel particularly run-down.

I've confiscated daughter's phone for 24 hours - again

- this time for taking it to bed with her when she knows she's to leave it charging in the living room. My reasoning is that if she has her phone in bed she'll stay up late texting and Facebooking until all hours, effecting the quality and length of sleep she'll get. When I got in last night she was in bed and her phone wasn't on charge so I assumed she had it with her and decided to see how she handled it in the morning.

Morning, etc. Where's your phone?

Not sure, maybe in my blazer pocket?

*checks* Nope. Is it in your room?

At this point, I'd love it if she just held her hands up and admitted to taking it to bed with her, but no. We go to her room and she checks shelves, the table, under her bag, under the increasing pile of clothes: no phone.

Is it under your pillow? Nope.

So I start removing bedclothes and dressing gowns and pyjamas and there it is, pretty much exactly where I expected it to be, face-down under her dressing gown. Even now, caught out, she digs a little deeper.

You knew it was there.

No, I put it on my bed when I got undressed and I guess it moved.

Show me the last text message you sent on there.

She flicks through her phone with her tail between her legs and shows me her last message, sent at 9.47pm, thirty minutes after she turned her light off and I went into her room and said goodnight to her.

Here's me, inside, calm but pissed-off: ARGH! Do you honestly think I'm totally stupid?! I've known since 9pm last night that you had your phone in here, yet you spin me a web of bullshit to try and worm your way out because I've caught you red-handed doing something you're not allowed to do.

Here's me, outside, pissed-off but calm: Right. Why do you try to bullshit me? When you're caught, just admit you're caught. The fact that you had your phone in here after bed isn't that big a deal, but bullshitting me and searching around your room for something you know the location of is deceitful and an insulting charade. I can smell bullshit a mile off; I've had lots of practice.

I confiscated her phone on the basis that I'd told her if I caught her taking advantage of my absence again I'd ground her. I was aware her youth club meeting wasn't on tonight so I decided to 'hit her where it hurts' and take her phone for a day instead.

When I asked why she preferred to lie over coming clean, she said it's because she's afraid I'll yell.

Am I yelling this time?

No. (I was a bit, not shouting but definitely frustrated)

Have I yelled the past few times?

No.

Please, I'm much more likely to get pissed-off and yell if you're lying to my face, and much more likely to stay calm if you just admit what you've done so we can talk about it properly without the deceit and inference of stupidity.

I can see that she's testing the boundaries. I'm aware she's trying to get away with small things to see how far she can get. I know she's growing-up. I feel like this was blown out of proportion, but I'm not sure I was the one doing the inflating. I think my response was measured and proportional, although perhaps confiscating her phone for 24 hours was too harsh. I may give it back to her half-an-hour before bed this evening instead of keeping it for 24 hours. I may ultimately decide she can keep her phone in her room. Maybe I'll give her a 9.30pm lights-out instead of a 9pm.

It's interesting that I'm thinking about giving her more perks or freedom in return for her breaking the rules and trying to deceive me. Mabye this is a response to her saying she goes to bed earliest out of all her friends, and saying it more than once. Last time I defended her early-to-bed routine she said 'I wasn't complaining' but I'm not sure I believe her. Fundamentally, I know how important good sleep is to an efficiently-operating mind and I've been encouraging her into a good sleep routine for this reason. However, I may be depriving her of a fundamental teenage tradition: staying up late during the week and sleeping in at the weekends. I'm sure that being tired during the day will effect her performance at school and I think I'm trying to protect her from mistakes I've made in the past.

Hmmmm. Maybe she's old enough and mature enough to make these mistakes for herself. In fact, she definitely is. Maybe its time to loosen the apron strings a little more.

I've got 'meh' and butterflies

and a desire to understand why. A brief spat with a good friend this morning caused it and I'm a little confused as to how it blew up. I think it's down to how I handled the conversation, even though I stayed calm and coherent throughout.

A good friend cancelled a movie with me, daughter and friend. Daughter predicted she'd cancel because it happens more often than not and I reassured her it'd be ok. I told daughter that if she cancelled I'd tell her how I felt about it.

We made plans and set times and that was that, until she called this morning and said she'd double booked. I was busy at work and caught somewhat off-guard and pretty pissed-off. I guess normally I'd brush it off and make other arrangements but I couldn't help being frustrated. Part of that frustration stems from the look on daughter's face last time I told her we couldn't do something in similar circumstances, caused in the same way. Another part is how the person is treating not just their friends but themselves too.

It scares me how much she seems to be tied-up in knots. I hate the fact that I can't do anything to help - not even take her out for a treat to brighten her day.

Anyway, my frustration was obviously contagious because I somehow inflamed the situation. I probably should have just said 'It's fine' but I was annoyed and that effected how I handled it. I'm concerned now that I've managed to give myself the 'meh' and I've probably pissed my friend off a fair amount too.

By trying to do something nice.

I've spent the last three days feeling low

- nothing major, but definitely under the weather. Today I'm a little better; I finally feel like I've fully recovered from the bash weekend, having caught up on sleep and got over a cold.

I took so much away from that weekend it's hard to put it all into context. I met so many lovely people, laughed so much and enjoyed the locality completely. I got plenty of compliments from various sources and some continuing praise and appreciation really put me on a high for the whole weekend and since.

Unfortunately since Friday I've felt pretty shit. It's probably mostly down to the lack of sleep, feeling lethargic because of the cold and losing a little self-esteem due to almost completely dropping my new food plan for a week. I haven't walked as much as I'd liked over the past week so I want to sort that out tomorrow with a big walk followed by a visit to some good friends for a bit of a vent, both of which I know will help me get my head straight again.

But this recurring drop in mood bothers me. I spent a good while being on top of the world and not getting caught by the darkness. While I don't feel like I'm too close to the darkness again, my lights definitely seem to dim every now and again.

I think a combination of things is building up to effect me. I want to go through them here to get them out of my head.

I'm sincerely hating my job and my inability to get my own business started is effecting my self-esteem. I've made plans to investigate courses on fencing, hedging and stone wall building which are skills I want to learn and put into practise in any future job. 

My time with wonderful people reminds me how lonely I am. I am starting to feel increasingly like I want companionship and intimacy in my life and not having it is becoming steadily more difficult to handle. Since someone stroked my head for a few minutes at the party I've craved more, dreaming of simple things like kisses and fingertips intertwining.

I'm pretty emotional. This is a source of concern for me because I know I need to work through whatever's causing this emotion to well up in certain situations. For example, twice yesterday I felt like I could burst into tears - during the ending of Nanny McPhee where the kids broke up an imperfect marriage and their father declared his love for the scullery maid I could have cried like a baby, but kept it in because daughter was there. Also, while watching a documentary about rain which showed Boscastle getting flooded in 2004, I actually shed a tear but suppressed whatever was causing it. I walked up and down Boscastle a couple of times at Easter and was quite emotional watching a video of the floods in the visitor centre, and watching it last night brought that back. I know there's an underlying reason for this emotion and I'm not sure why I hold it in - I need to discover the source and come to terms with it so I can let it out. I think this is quite important but I'm not sure how to go about sorting it. I think I might need to see my doctor and ask for some top-up sessions. I remember writing about this before... Why haven't I done anything about it?

Daughter's mother is sticking her nose in again. Daughter appears quite abmivalent but I know the situation bugs her and therefore it bugs me. The history of our relationship shows that I've usually come off worse in our dealing and I don't mind admitting it scares me deeply every time she puts her head above the water. I think this is pretty important and I know my inability and unwillingness to move things forward legally is affecting how comfortable I feel when she gets involved. I need to sort thing out, really. Storey of my life.

I'm very close to submitting forms to apply for a council house. My frustration with our living situation is mounting and we can't stay like this forever. I know getting somewhere more suitable to live will settle some of the concerns I have about personal space and will give me the chance to have people over and consider the logistics of reactivating my sex life. As things stand now, there's no way I'd be able to entertain a lady and that's limiting my enthusiasm for going out and finding one. I'm a little embarrassed about the situation if I'm honest and I know moving somewhere bigger would give both daughter and I more self-esteem.

I reckon that's it for now. I need to do stuff, but I really don't feel that motivated. It's a shame that when I feel like this is takes a kick in the arse to get things moving. I feel there's an opportunity for change here, to learn a lesson and adjust my behaviour so I'm more proactive and get my shit together without the need for that kick to get me moving, to have the confidence in myself that'll allow me to take risks to achieve goals. In fact, some of my therapy dealt with that very subject, but I think I've slipped back into protecting myself, daughter and the stability we've formed and don't want to rock the boat.

I reckon this boat needs rocking. Now to get my head around where to start.

I get a nice butterfly-like anticipation

in my stomach before any walk, but a walk with a client brings an extra nervous edge. That I'll be plodding across beautiful, quiet countryside gives me something to look forward to and knowing I'll be helping someone else adds to the expectancy.

Daughter often tells me she gets butterflies before she goes swimming. I find this absolutely adorable because swimming is something we did together, almost every other weekend for a long time during her early years. I taught her to swim, we'd have a brilliant time and splash each other, dive to the bottom to collect our locker key and bounce over the inflatable. The fact she still gets butterflies now, at 13 years old, makes me smile because it shows me she still has excitement at the prospect of swimming, and it indicates how powerful her enjoyment of the activity was.

I think my fluttering stomach flows from similar sources; I look forward to walks because they bring me contentment, relaxation, solid sleep, good exercise and pride in achievement. Over the last three weeks I've walked 25, 30 and 24 miles respectively, totalling almost eighty miles in twenty days, averaging four miles a day. I haven't put that into context before but that's like walking from here to Guildford in a straight line, in twenty days, averaging only four miles per day. I know for a fact I could easily average nine or ten miles a day if I wanted to... This had just led me to look up where the nearest beach is to see how long it'd take me to walk there. I reckon if I pushed myself I could manage 13 miles or more a day on my current fitness level, so it'd take me 8 days to walk to the nearest sea, all going well. This is definitely something to consider for the future, probably when it's less stiflingly hot.

I hope I never lose these butterflies.