Found out today that after 28 years, I’m completely disposable.

I have been together with my husband since 1995, nearing 29 years in this relationship. My existence feels futile now.

Recently, I discovered a painful truth about my husband, the man I deeply loved and had to overcome substantial childhood trauma to trust. It all seems pointless.

For a week, an unsettling feeling gnawed at me, urging me to check his phone, which was highly unusual for me to do. I resisted at first, but this inexplicable urge grew stronger.

Eventually, I gave in, and the revelation left me physically ill. I have never felt so worthless, disposable, and unloved. Strangely, I believe I would have preferred if he had engaged in a conventional, physical affair. Instead, he had been the victim of catfishing for the past month. It took only three seconds and a reverse image search to uncover 14 more profiles across various platforms, including online escort sites. The sweet and affectionate messages he sent to these profiles were exactly what I had longed for.

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I had been diligently working on being more laid-back and supportive, trying to suppress my anxiety and be less critical. I even apologized to him, promising to make positive changes, which I’ve been actively doing. However, now I question why I bothered. What was the point? He knows how my traumatic past revolves around not just the physical abuse but the psychological torment my father put me through. My father’s favorite taunt was that no one loved me, and that nobody ever would, not even my future husband.

I shared this painful history with my husband and emphasized that I couldn’t bear feeling that my father had been right. I told him that if he ever contemplated infidelity, he should have the decency to be honest with me. I could handle the hurt, but it would be better than being blindsided by the realization that my father had been correct. He assured me he would never do that; if he ever considered it, he would leave me first. Yet, he didn’t follow through on that promise.

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My love language has always revolved around small gestures, like receiving a heartfelt card or a little token that says, “I was thinking about you.” Just a small act like this once or twice a month would make me ecstatic. However, it’s been months since I received anything like that.

I discovered that he had transferred $545 to the catfish since July 26, sending her affectionate messages and receiving minimal responses, but he continued sending more money. I would have cherished being spoken to in that manner, yet he kept pouring his emotions and resources into someone else, someone he hadn’t even met. I was left speechless, a feeling I had never experienced in my 45 years. I despise this sensation.

Why am I not enough? I strive to be the kind of friend I would want, always ready to help others because I understand the despair of feeling abandoned. I couldn’t do that to anyone, especially not him. I feel foolish. He did precisely what he vowed not to do, leaving me feeling as if my entire being had been drained the moment the air left the room. Why did I deserve this? I sense that my life has been squandered.

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I even messaged the catfish to inquire if she knew about me, feeling compelled to know. She confirmed that she did but asserted that it didn’t matter because it was all about the money, devoid of any emotions. However, my emotions were deeply invested. I always believed I would prefer a bad day with him over a great day with someone else. It appears he did not share that sentiment after all.

I realize this might sound irrational, but I think I would have preferred physical abuse over this emotional torment. I was discarded like trash for no reason at all. He has proven my father right after all these years. I never wanted to admit that my father was correct, and now I feel like I’ve wasted my entire life.

I simply needed to vent, as I have no idea how to proceed from here. I apologize in advance for any spelling or grammatical errors in this post; I couldn’t bring myself to proofread it. I’m afraid I might break down while he’s in the house, and I can’t handle that right now. I don’t have anyone to confide in or help me make sense of all of this. It feels like my entire life has been in vain. Sharing this has not made me feel better, but at least I’ve taken the first step in letting someone know. I hope all of you have better days ahead. If someone loves you, hold them close.