Sure, getting my wallet stolen is a good reason to be upset. I can get that.

I canceled the cards, reported it to the police, sat at the station for over 4 hours hungry and thirsty, then got home after midnight only to toss and turn all night.

I am usually able to shake things off pretty quickly, but that feeling of being emotional and of being upset…it remained. The more I unpack the emotion, the more I feel…violated.

The thief broke through my personal space bubble, reached into my purse, and stole my very identity.

When I went to the social security administration this morning, I had my marriage license, birth certificate, my old passport, current mail with my name and address, a checkbook, everything I could think of to prove I am who I say I am.

And it was not enough.

Because I had nothing in my married, legal name (ID, credit cards, and social security cards are all stolen!), they said I couldn’t get a replacement card.

They said my marriage license no longer counted because it was in my old name. Same for birth certificate, passport, everything.

In one day, I was reduced from bestselling author, on an unmatched high, to someone who cannot prove their own identity.

To my shame at the time, I cried at the social security office. I didn’t mean to, and I felt weak and helpless. Someone out there is walking around with my only means of proving who I am, and they don’t even care.

And I am here, left feeling silly for being so upset. It’s just a wallet. Things can be replaced, and after all, I’m safe and healthy and my Kindle wasn’t taken.

Yet that feeling of violation remains.

Written by

Entrepreneur, writer, editor, book coach, cat lover, weirdo, optimist. Author of “Write. Get Paid. Repeat.” & “Concept to Conclusion.”

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