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The Life and Times of a Dark Knight

by Trevon Mosby about a year ago in coping
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The Life and Times of a Dark Knight
Photo by ActionVance on Unsplash

To be my wife's "knight in shining armor" is an honor I'd rather not live without. I'm aware of and sensitive to her trauma, even while I balance the challenges of and address my own.

"You're her knight in shining armor," our counselor suggested. I turned to my wife; she smiled at me and nodded. Though she's never said those words, I accepted her nod, reclaiming this mantle with the new purpose of reconstruction. Our world cracked and crumbled under the force of the rift between us. The end of the world was happening to us. And the rift reminded me of when I first took on the symbol.

Throughout high school, I was publicly humiliated, ridiculed for my relationship decisions, loving and losing without interruption, and mocked for my failures. I faithfully suffered in silence unto an implosion that led to a desperate, terrifying attempt at suicide. The only reason I was able to reconsider was the friend who had commissioned me to best total darkness like this, the friend that first gave me the symbol as a token of gratitude. She was my Rachel Dawes, I her Bruce Wayne.

One day during class, she surprised me with a large group of our classmates, a gigantic card, and a small card for my sixteenth birthday. Beyond enjoying the smiles, hugs, singing, and signatures of well-wishes I received from them, I was especially drawn to open the small card, written by my dear friend. While I don't remember the words she wrote, I do remember her sincere, heartfelt "thank you" as well as the pin she removed from the card and put on me: the Bat symbol.

She addressed me as her "hero". She loved me fiercely and patiently, as only an angel can. She thought of me as a gift of Love from heaven - so much like herself. She honored who I am, who she believed I'd always be. She thanked me for more than our relationship - she thanked me for being alive, for existing, for sharing with her the beautiful creation I had become and am still becoming. She knew how dark my thoughts could be, how low I could sink, how often and willingly I'd sacrifice my life for hers and everyone else's, just so they could know the Love I once imagined and now realized.

She loved me. I failed her. And I failed my wife too.

When she thanks me for my patience and understanding towards her, she sounds exhausted for me, appearing to comprehend the weight of the symbol I've adopted. She thanks me for my hard work, all mostly accomplished away from Home. For her (as she has expressed), this speaks strength, perseverance, and sacrifice which yields respect, value, necessity, and adoration.

I respect the "knight" that I've been to my wife. How I've braved the ferocity of her parents and endured the most draining of circumstances with the ultimate strength that is Love. Doubt terrorized me. I barely survived the abuse of Fear. Evil stabbed me every time I looked past it. Illusions haunted my every decision. Manipulation pitted me against myself all the while and the longer I fought to stay awake for war, the longer it took for my Heart to break completely.

It's because I love so fiercely, that I stand so quickly after taking crippling emotional blows; that I fall so heavily when my mind is overwhelmed with questions, exhaustion, should-haves, would-haves, and other taunting imps.

To bear this mantle of "hero" - to my once dear friend and now, to my wife - is to win and lose, to love and hurt. To harm and be destroyed often, under pressure to do what is right for them - for all - when it is and is not right for me. To be this symbol of a Man is to be broken, always, bandages ripped off by the same person who applied them. I hurt myself daily bearing this burden. I am alone in this heroic Act of my life.

I live to serve with Love and will continue to be the hero my world needs. I pray that one day, I will be relieved by the hero that I still desperately need.

coping

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Trevon Mosby

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