It's 12:23 and. My birthday is officially over

I didn’t top myself and I’m stilll cat-less, and new iPad-less.  I’m surprised at how much I loved Jaime; I remember, the first few days, when I had to force myself to love her, ‘cause she was slightly stand-offish for a while.  I remember running my hands over her rail-thin body, thinking, over and over, I WILL love this cat; I MUST love this cat.  And soon enough, boy howdy, how I did.  She had never peacefully taken a shit in her life before, always terrorized by other animals ; so she sprayed her shit at first.  I got her a Booda-belll letterbox, and problem solved.  She was happier; her turds solidified and i was happier:   no more mess.  I quickly developed an “us against the world” mentality with her, and it survives through her death.  I feel picked on , by my Trustees. Who I feel, are failing to let me recover control of my finances.  They let me try once, in the very early days of my recovery, and of course I fucked it up. I’ve been suggesting with increasing firmness, they. put me back in the mix,  but so far, it falls on deaf ears.  So Butch has control.  Endowed by my Trustees because it’s easier, for them.  Jaime NEEDED me; I didn’t feel needed before her, and , there’s no need for me, on the horizon.  Unfortunately, I’ve realized that feeling needed is VERY important to my recovery.