Member-only story
Some Betrayals I Can Overcome. But Not This.
The Rev broke my heart and erased every shred of goodness he ever possessed.
Like most people, I deeply admire the civil rights leader Martin Luther King. What some people might not know is that MLK was a serial cheater.
This revelation is probably a big “So what?” Because what matters in the end is MLK’s legacy. And I agree. He betrayed his wife, not millions.
Anyone who knows me knows how weirdly judgmental I am about adultery. No one ever cheated on me so my “she that doth protest too much,” must come from somewhere.
When I was five my adopted mother left me, my sister and three brothers. And so trust has always felt fragile.
While I make and keep friends easily, somewhere in my gut, trust is to be earned and fiercely protected.
Breaking trust is like a shattered precious vase. Even when you glue the pieces back together it’s never the same. The vase is weaker, no longer able to support water for the beautiful flowers it once held. Damaged permanently.
At the time my mother cheated she’d gone on a bird-watching cruise to the Seychelles. During a stopover, she met a successful world wildlife photographer in an African hotel lobby and decided to leave my father.
