People who know nothing about you can often be the source of most comfort. In my stupor, I sought out these tiny communities nestled into the strangest corners of the internet, filled with broken souls that had gone through my pain and things much worse. Young people, spouses with children, people in their sixties and seventies—no matter the age or upbringing, the pain of betrayal weaves a coarse thread that links these hearts together from miles and continents apart. These are communities forged out of pain. But their pain is shared rather than left to fester, for turning inward can leave scars that are difficult to heal.

To return to the idea of distance, the strangers that replied to my cries for comfort and provided answers to my endless questions are as far from me as anyone can be. But behind their words flows an undercurrent of camaraderie, a pool of shared experiences for people that have seen both the most beautiful and the ugliest sides of the pain of infidelity. “Forget about her and hit the gym,” they say. “My ex-wife was the same way.” They told me to pick up a copy of Leave a Cheater, Gain a Life. I did. The strange thing is, I’ve never seen their faces and likely never will. But the willingness of these communities to struggle with us, to provide shelter to those newly broken and those with old wounds, tells a story of compassion and empathy.

One day someone messaged me after looking through my posts, telling me that I‘m “a good person” and that I deserved much better. I hope to death that that’s true.