One rare night I was out with a friend, and she’d brought along a colleague. The woman spent at least the first 45 minutes ruining my buzz by complaining about her crappy boyfriend. I’d had Ada for all of 4 months and was still reeling from grief and brand new parenthood. Suddenly, I’d had enough.

“Jesus Christ on a cracker Susan, he’s a shit. Probably ‘cos your dad’s a shit and your just perpetuating a cycle. If you do what you’ve always done, then you'll get what you’ve always got. So if you're not gonna change anything, shut the fuck up and let me enjoy my drink.”

I’d expected her to stalk away, obviously insulted, though I didn’t care at all. They both stared at me, mouths agape until I got uncomfortable enough to get a new drink at the bar. Soon after I got a text saying they were going home for the night and I shrugged the guilt away. I didn’t have any space inside me for it.

But then a week or so later, I get another text. According to my friend, Susan suddenly had a whole new lease on her life. She’d broken up with her boyfriend and told her dad to go to hell. Then I got another text from the woman herself, praising me for telling her honestly in 10 seconds what her therapist hadn’t been able to in 10 months.

So, I give advice. It’s not my day job, but it supplements my measly teacher income. It’s all online, and I don’t take on anyone who hasn’t been referred to me by someone I have given explicit permission to. I don’t have the time for a clientele, and honestly, it’s not like I even have a license for this sort of thing. But the people who come to me know that.

I must be at least a little helpful, I have a steady stream of clients. It’s a three session maximum that’s exclusively online, so no face to face. Writing it is better anyway: I can think things through and maintain professional distance. And if (or when) someone realizes that I don’t pull my punches and tries to have a go at me, I just block them.

I don’t always have an answer though, and I’m honest about that too. Sometimes, at the end of the day, people just want to know that it’s ok to be confused, or clueless, or sad, or angry.

I’ve been doing this for years, and what I’ve learned more than anything is that what people want most of all is to be heard.

Right now though, Ada is tugging at my elbow.

“Daddy, I want an Easter egg.” She says, frowning and serious.

I give my five year old daughter a raised eyebrow. “It’s not Easter, so that’s impossible.”

She thinks hard for a moment, then; “A lolly then.”

I squish my lips together. “Hmm, you had one on the weekend though.”

She tilts her head, going from the authentically serious child I know, to a faux winsome one in one smooth movement. “Please?”

I roll my eyes. “Did you clean your room?”

She frowns again and I nod my head once. “There’s your answer.”

She pouts but I ignore it. A deals a deal, and she’s old enough to clean her own damn room. But relent after a second.

“If you go clean it now, you can have one in your lunch tomorrow.”

She perks up and runs off to her room, all haste. So you see, I’m not above bribery. Or above being emotionally blackmailed by my kid.

I finished making dinner. We eat, bathe, and I put her to bed by seven, and then I get started on some school work. After a couple of hours of that, I turn off the TV and go through my client list for any new emails. I spend another few hours doing that. Eventually, at midnight, I drag myself to bed.

This is my life.