A bit self-indulgent and not as funny as usual but nevertheless very insightful.

I've recently been promoted at work.

Hurray. Go me, etc.

I'm not just showing off. As you might expect, this has brought with it more pressure and stress. I'm gradually getting used to these consequences of earning a bit more, and of being a little bit more proud of myself. But at first I really struggled to cope, as the added tension triggered some sort of depression in me and left me crying into my wife's arms and phoning my parents in the middle of their holiday to feel sorry for myself at them. I had a crisis of confidence which made me question my ability to do the job I had been given and, worst of all, to be a father. How could I fulfill my stereotypical role as protector, carer and role model when I had been reduced to a pathetic, quivering mess?

Believe it or not, I'm trying not to be melodramatic, and as I say, I'm adjusting to it all now with the help of those mentioned above as well as my colleagues, to all of whom I'm extremely grateful. But the experience has caused me to question where the balance should lie between being somebody you and your child can be proud of, and ensuring that you maintain a happy and stable demeanour.

My memories from my own childhood are of pride in my father's importance at work, and in his self-evidently hardworking nature, but also of worry at the obvious stress this caused him. Undoubtedly these memories have influenced my thinking in either direction. I'm sure most boys just want to impress their dad deep down. Mine made no attempt to disguise his joy when I told him of my promotion, and I think this was a factor in my applying for it in the first place. Yet I had decided long ago that I considered happiness to be far more important than wealth or status. So why the change of heart?

Of course, as a parent, it would be irresponsible of me to refuse a chance to earn a few more pennies for the family coffers, but I think pride was a bigger factor. I'm ashamed to say it, but I didn't like the idea of telling my daughter that I work in a shop. Now at least I can say that I'm a vaguely important person in a shop. To reiterate, I'm ashamed to confess to this feeling, but the lesson I'm learning here is that the responsibilities of parenthood force you to confront your ideologies. I'm still of the opinion that happiness is better than wealth or importance, but I no longer always feel that my opinions should come first.

So the balance has shifted, whether I wanted it to or not, but I'm also learning that you can still have it both ways. I come home from work a bit more stressed than I used to, but it is precisely by then being the best father I can that I can overcome the tension and the worry. It's a bit harder, but that's why getting the balance right is the real source of pride. Tellingly, it was the same stressed father of my childhood who used his experience to help me through my own little episode. Thus it all falls into place, and it turns out that everything's OK after all.

Hurray. Go me, etc.