I know almost nothing about the Lord of the Rings, to be honest. I’ve never read the books and couldn’t make it through more than 30 minutes of the movie.
My husband and oldest daughter are big fans, though.
I decided to look up the distinction between Gandalf the Grey and Gandalf the White to try to understand what my daughter told me yesterday.
And wow, wow, wow. I am beyond honored and humbled to have that comparison given to me.
It’s kinda funny. All three of my kids see me as this person who’s really committed to growth and to making sacrifices for them. They hold my husband in higher esteem than me, of course, as everyone does. But that doesn’t mean I come in a distant second.
I still don’t feel that way. In my head, I’m still the same as the worst version of myself that I’ve ever been, even though according to my kids, that old version of me is long gone.
I’ll be honest: I’m struggling a lot with suicidal ideation again. I don’t think I can handle going through my husband’s death, at all. I think that’s why yesterday affected me so profoundly—it made it very undeniably real to me, in ways I couldn’t avoid.
I have to keep reminding myself that maybe my kids want and need me around too. It’s just SO HARD to keep going sometimes. Death seems so peaceful in comparison.
But I think my kids see my strength as a reason to go on themselves. (I know they do because they’ve told me or written it in cards.)
It just seems kinda ironic that to be seen as a pillar of strength, you have to keep going when it feels like you can’t.
I just wish for a life with only normal problems instead. I don’t feel cut out for this inspiration porn lifestyle.