Staci Swedeen

It showed up as a form letter yesterday.

“I am writing to inform you that sensitive personally identifiable information about you may have been viewed by an individual who should not have had access to such information.”

The letter goes on to say that a man has pled guilty to conspiracy to commit identity theft. There are two pages of dense information, apologies, web sites, and addresses to file complaints. The letter concludes with “We hope this information is helpful to you and we sincerely regret any adverse impact this incident may have on you.”

I almost threw this letter away – but then, upon reading it and realizing the implications, I followed up on the web sites, enrolled in the offer of free credit monitoring and printed out my current credit rating. I contacted the US Attorney’s Office and read a copy of the indictment. It was easy to figure out that “Individual #38” was me.

Now, looking at this stack of papers, I think – hey, someone out there wants to steal my identity? Go ahead! Because this morning I feel anxious and uncertain. I don’t quite know what I want to be when I grow up.

“Honey,” my husband said, “You ARE grown up.”

That strikes me as bad news. This is grown up? How is that possible? I feel anxious and uncertain about so many things. About my writing, my work, about what to do next. Is it time to consider changing careers? Should we move to a less expensive house, a less expensive area of the country? What would we do there? What am I really doing here? All these thoughts swirl around, my personal form of internal dust bunny. The national negative drum beat marches on. I feel paralyzed.

And I think – hey, someone wants to steal my identity? Go ahead! I’m a bit tired of being me. Perhaps we can all play “musical identity chairs” Start the music. Everybody walk. I want to circle a few times.

I wonder who I’ll be next.