An Identity Stolen, a Life Rebuilt

I recently read an interesting article about a man who stole someone’s identity 35 years ago and built an entirely new life for himself. But unlike typical identity theft cases, this man wasn’t trying to scam anyone or dodge financial responsibilities. He paid his taxes, held steady jobs, and lived like any ordinary citizen. He wasn’t stealing money or running up debts—he was just living under a different name.

What makes the story even more intriguing is how it began. Both men—the real one and the imposter—worked at the same place at the time. Fast forward 35 years, and the man whose identity was stolen is homeless, while the imposter has become a relatively successful individual.

It seems the imposter was running from a troubled past. He was adopted, never quite felt like he belonged, and fell in with the wrong crowd in school. He didn’t graduate and lacked direction. But after assuming a new identity, something shifted. He taught himself coding and IT skills, landed a job in a university’s IT department, and later worked at a hospital. He got married, earned a six-figure salary, sent his son to college, and even bought a new car every year. Life was good—until his secret unraveled.

It sounds like a movie plot, but it’s real. And it made me think: not about how he stole the identity, but how he turned his life around. What flipped the switch for him? What allowed him to go from a lost and troubled young man to a successful professional, husband, and father?

We all struggle with change—even the smallest ones. For example, I’ve been trying to drink more green tea, and I still forget to make a cup most days. But this man didn’t just make a small lifestyle tweak—he completely reinvented himself. He found discipline and motivation. His wife even described him as a great husband and father. That kind of transformation is remarkable, especially considering where he started.

It’s almost as if taking on a new identity allowed him to become a better version of himself. It wasn’t just a name he adopted—it was a mindset. And while I don’t condone what he did, I’m curious: is it possible to make such a dramatic change without stealing someone’s name?

Maybe we can. Maybe we can declare, "This is the new me," and actually commit to it. Maybe I can say, “The new me drinks a cup of green tea every morning.” The new me saves more money, complains less, goes to bed at 9:30 p.m., and shows up on time for gym class.

What this story reveals is how powerful identity can be—not just who we are, but who we believe we are. We often say, “I am who I am,” as if change is impossible. But maybe it’s not. Maybe we’re just not motivated enough, or maybe the stakes don’t feel high enough.

For this man, the stakes were everything. He had a criminal past, no direction, and likely felt his life was spiraling. Stealing an identity gave him a blank slate, and he used it to build something better. That urgency pushed him to change.

So, I wonder—can we make real change without hitting rock bottom or starting over completely? Can we decide today that the "new me" begins now?

I think I’ll start with green tea.