I’m 28 years old, and I just found out that my credit is completely destroyed. Not because of anything I did, but because my parents have been committing identity theft against me since I was a teenager. And now that I’ve discovered it and confronted them, they’re acting like I’m the bad guy for not wanting to cover their debt and fund their retirement. I feel like my entire life has been a lie.
I’m 28F, recently engaged to my wonderful fiancé “James” (30M). We’ve been together for three years, and we recently started the process of buying our first home together. We were so excited—looking at houses online, talking about neighborhoods, planning which room would be the nursery eventually. We’d saved up a decent down payment and felt ready.
Then we met with a mortgage broker, and everything fell apart. She ran our credit reports, and while James’s looked great, mine was a disaster. I’m talking a credit score of 512. Multiple maxed-out credit cards, a car loan I didn’t know about, collection accounts, late payments going back years. The broker looked at me with pity and said there was no way we’d get approved for a mortgage with my credit in this condition.
I was completely shocked. I’ve always been responsible with money. I have one credit card that I use for gas and groceries and pay off in full every month. I’ve never taken out a loan. I’ve never missed a payment on anything. There was no way my credit should look like this.
James and I left the broker’s office in a daze. As soon as we got home, I pulled my full credit reports from all three bureaus. What I found made me physically ill.
There were seven credit cards in my name that I’d never opened. Total debt: $47,000. A car loan for a 2019 Ford F-150 that I’d never purchased: $31,000 still owed. A personal loan from a credit union: $8,500. Multiple accounts in collections. Late payments reported monthly for years. And all of it had started when I was 16 years old—twelve years ago.
The addresses associated with these accounts were my parents’ house—where I lived until I was 22. The phone numbers were my parents’ numbers. I started pulling statements that were available online, and my hands were shaking as I logged into each account using password recovery.
The purchases told a story I didn’t want to believe. Furniture stores. Electronics. Cash advances. Payments to mortgage companies and utility providers. Vacations to Florida, Vegas, cruises. Restaurant charges, grocery stores, gas stations. One card had been used to pay for my younger brother’s college tuition. Another had several charges to luxury retailers where my mom shops.
My parents had been using credit cards in my name to fund their lifestyle for over a decade. They’d been making minimum payments (sometimes—other times they just didn’t pay at all) to keep the accounts active and keep me from finding out. The car loan was for the truck my dad drives. The personal loan had been used to pay off their actual credit card debt three years ago.
I felt like I was going to throw up. My own parents had been stealing my identity since I was a child. They’d destroyed my financial future before I’d even had a chance to build one.
James wanted to call the police immediately. I told him I needed to talk to my parents first. Maybe there was an explanation. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe they’d been planning to tell me and pay it all off. I was grasping at straws because the alternative—that my parents had knowingly and deliberately destroyed my credit for their own benefit—was too painful to accept.
I drove to their house that evening. My mom answered the door all smiles, asking if I wanted to stay for dinner. I told her we needed to talk. Both my parents sat down at their kitchen table—the table they’d probably bought with one of “my” credit cards—and I pulled out the credit reports.
“Can you explain this?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
My dad glanced at the papers and his face went pale. My mom looked at him, then at me, and I watched her calculate her response in real-time.
“Honey, we were going to tell you—” she started.
“Tell me what? That you’ve been committing fraud against me for twelve years? That you destroyed my credit before I was even an adult?”
My dad jumped in. “It’s not fraud. You’re our daughter. Family helps family. We needed help, and we knew you’d understand.”
“I was SIXTEEN when this started! I couldn’t even legally consent to credit cards!”
My mom reached across the table like she was going to hold my hand. I pulled back. “Sweetie, we were going through a hard time financially. We didn’t have good enough credit to get cards ourselves. We only meant to use them temporarily until we got back on our feet.”
“Temporarily? It’s been twelve years! There’s almost a hundred thousand dollars in debt here!”
My dad got defensive. “We raised you. We fed you, clothed you, put a roof over your head for eighteen years. This is how children repay their parents. We sacrificed everything for you and your brother, and now when we need help, you’re going to abandon us?”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Repay you? By letting you commit identity theft? By destroying my financial future? James and I just got denied for a mortgage because of what you did!”
My mom started crying. “We didn’t know it would affect you like that. We’ve been making payments! Most of the time. We thought it would be fine.”
“Making minimum payments on maxed-out cards isn’t fine! And you haven’t even been doing that consistently—half these accounts are in collections!”
We fought for over an hour. They alternated between apologizing, making excuses, and guilting me. They said they’d always planned to pay it off before I needed to use my credit. They said they didn’t realize how much it had added up to. They said they were sorry, but also that I was being ungrateful and selfish for making such a big deal out of it.
Then came the real bombshell. My dad said: “Look, we can’t pay this off right now. We’re planning to retire in three years, and we need to save for that. But once we’re settled in retirement, we’ll start making more regular payments. In the meantime, maybe you could just take over the minimum payments? You and James both have good jobs. You can afford it more than we can right now.”
I stared at him. “You want ME to pay the debt that YOU accumulated by stealing MY identity? And you want me to do it so YOU can retire comfortably?”
My mom chimed in: “It’s not stealing, honey. We’re family. And yes, we think you should help us. We’re getting older. We deserve to retire and enjoy our golden years. Your father has worked hard his whole life.”
“With credit cards he fraudulently opened in my name!”
My dad’s expression hardened. “Watch your tone. We’re still your parents. And yes, we expect you to help us in our old age. That’s what children do. Maybe if you spent less money on your fancy apartment and expensive wedding plans, you’d have money to help your family.”
My “fancy apartment” is a modest two-bedroom. Our wedding budget is $15,000, which we’re paying for ourselves. But apparently, I was supposed to be saving that money to pay off their fraudulent debt instead.
I left. I didn’t yell or slam the door—I was too shocked and hurt. I just walked out and sat in my car in their driveway for twenty minutes, crying.
When I told James what happened, he was furious. He called them narcissistic criminals. He said I needed to file a police report immediately, dispute all the fraudulent accounts, and cut them off completely. But they’re my parents. The people who raised me. Yes, they did this horrible thing, but the idea of having them arrested felt impossible.
I called my younger brother “Tyler” (24M) to see if he knew anything about this. He was shocked and angry on my behalf, but then he mentioned that our parents had been asking him for money lately, saying they were “struggling financially” and he should “help out” since he has a good job now. He’d given them about $3,000 over the past year. Now we’re both wondering if they’ve opened credit cards in his name too. He’s pulling his credit report today.
I consulted with a lawyer who specializes in identity theft. She said I have two options:
Option 1: File a police report for identity theft, cooperate with the investigation, provide evidence that I didn’t open these accounts. The credit card companies would be forced to remove the debt from my name, my credit would eventually recover, but my parents would likely face criminal charges. They could go to jail.
Option 2: Accept responsibility for the debt, work out payment plans with the creditors, spend years paying off almost $100,000 in debt that I didn’t incur, and watch my parents face no consequences for destroying my financial life.
The lawyer was clear: there’s no middle ground. Either I file the report and my parents face legal consequences, or I eat the debt. The credit card companies won’t just forgive tens of thousands of dollars because my parents are sorry.
I’ve been agonizing over this decision for a week. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. James is supportive but clearly frustrated that I’m even considering option 2. My brother thinks I should file the report. My best friend thinks I should file the report. My therapist (emergency sessions all week) thinks I should file the report.
But every time I try to do it, I think about my parents going to jail. I think about holidays without them. I think about them hating me forever. I think about the rest of my extended family taking their side—because they absolutely will. My parents have already started doing damage control, telling relatives that I’m “attacking” them over “helping them with some bills” and being “ungrateful.”
My aunt called me crying, saying I should be ashamed of myself for “threatening” my parents. My grandmother left me a voicemail about how “family takes care of family” and I’m breaking her heart. Multiple cousins have sent me messages about what horrible parents I must have that they had to resort to this, and maybe I should look at my own behavior instead of blaming them.
None of them know the full story—my parents are painting themselves as victims who borrowed a little money and now their cruel daughter wants to have them arrested. They’re not mentioning the twelve years of fraud, the $87,000 in debt, the destroyed credit score, the lost house opportunity.
I tried to explain to my aunt. She said “Well, you weren’t using that credit, so what’s the harm? And now that you know, you should help them pay it off. They’re your parents.” The victim-blaming is insane.
My parents have been texting me constantly. Apologies mixed with guilt trips. “We’re so sorry, but we love you.” “We never meant to hurt you, but you need to understand our position.” “We made mistakes, but good daughters forgive their parents.” “If you really loved us, you’d help us fix this instead of threatening us with police.”
Yesterday, my mom showed up at my apartment. I didn’t let her in, so we talked through the door. She cried and said that if I file a police report, it will kill my grandmother (who has a heart condition). That my dad might not survive jail at his age (he’s 62 and perfectly healthy). That I’ll be destroying our family. That she understands I’m hurt, but I need to think about the bigger picture.
I asked her about the bigger picture of stealing my identity for twelve years. She said, “We didn’t have a choice! We couldn’t get credit ourselves!”
I said, “So you committed fraud against your own child?”
She said, “We did what we had to do to survive. And now we need you to do the right thing and help us.”
“The right thing? The right thing would have been not committing identity theft!”
She actually said: “You’re being very dramatic about this. Lots of parents use their children’s credit. It’s not that uncommon. You’re acting like we committed some terrible crime.”
That’s when I realized: she genuinely doesn’t think she did anything wrong. In her mind, my credit was a family resource that she had every right to use. My identity, my financial future—it was all just an asset to be exploited when convenient.
I closed the door. She stood outside crying for ten minutes before leaving.
James and I had a serious conversation last night. He said he loves me and will support whatever I decide, but he needs me to understand the reality: if I don’t file the report, WE will be paying off my parents’ debt for the next decade. We won’t be buying a house. We might need to postpone our wedding. We’ll be financially hamstrung for years, all while my parents retire comfortably on our dime.
He’s right. I know he’s right. But the guilt is crushing me.
I pulled my credit reports again to document everything, and I noticed something that made my blood run cold: there was a credit inquiry from two weeks ago. Someone had tried to open another credit card in my name. I called the credit card company, and they confirmed the application was submitted with my information but from my parents’ address. It had been denied due to my poor credit.
They tried to open another one. Even after I confronted them. Even after they apologized. They tried to steal from me again.
That’s when something shifted in me. I’d been viewing this as a one-time mistake that spiraled out of control. But it’s not. It’s a pattern of behavior. They don’t feel guilty—they feel entitled. And if I don’t stop this now, they’ll keep doing it. They’ll steal from Tyler if they haven’t already. They’ll steal from my future children if given the chance.
I filed the police report this morning. I provided all the documentation—credit reports, statements, the recent fraudulent application, everything. The officer said this is unfortunately more common than people think, and that I’m doing the right thing protecting myself. The case has been forwarded to a detective who specializes in financial crimes.
I also filed disputes with all three credit bureaus and the individual creditors, stating that these accounts are fraudulent and I’m a victim of identity theft. I froze my credit with all three bureaus so no new accounts can be opened. I changed all my passwords and security questions in case my parents have access to any of my accounts.
Then I sent a text to my parents: “I’ve filed a police report for identity theft and fraud. I’ve disputed all fraudulent accounts. Do not contact me again. Any further communication should go through my attorney.”
I blocked their numbers. I blocked them on social media. I sent a message to my extended family explaining the full situation—the twelve years of fraud, the $87,000 in debt, the destroyed credit, the recent attempt to open yet another card—and said that anyone who continues to harass me on my parents’ behalf will also be blocked.
The responses have been mixed. Some family members apologized and said they didn’t know the extent. Others doubled down, saying I’m destroying the family and I’ll regret this. My grandmother’s message said she’s “disappointed” in me and hopes I “come to my senses before it’s too late.” My brother sent a string of supportive texts and confirmed he’s also freezing his credit after finding two suspicious inquiries on his report.
My dad’s brother—my uncle “Richard”—called me. He was surprisingly supportive. He said my dad has always been financially irresponsible and he’s not surprised it came to this. He said I’m doing the right thing and he’s sorry the rest of the family is being awful. He also mentioned that my dad borrowed $10,000 from him eight years ago and never paid it back, so he has his own grievances. It was validating to hear from someone in the family who understands.
The detective assigned to my case called this afternoon. She said based on the evidence, this is a clear case of identity theft and fraud. She’ll be contacting my parents for an interview. She warned me that they’ll probably try to contact me or have others pressure me to drop the charges, but I should stick to my boundaries. She also said the credit card companies and banks will be conducting their own investigations, and they take this very seriously.
I feel guilty. I feel sad. I feel angry. I feel relieved. I feel like a terrible daughter and also like I’m finally standing up for myself. It’s a confusing mess of emotions.
James has been incredible. He’s been researching credit repair, talking to financial advisors about our future, and just being supportive without pressure. He said regardless of how long it takes to fix my credit, we’re in this together. We might rent for a few more years while my credit recovers, and that’s okay. We’ll postpone the house, but not our life together.
My therapist says I’m experiencing complex grief—grieving the parents I thought I had, the family I thought I was part of, the security and trust that’s been violated. She says it’s normal to feel guilty even when you’re doing the right thing, especially when you’ve been conditioned to prioritize your parents’ needs over your own wellbeing.
I know the next few months will be hard. There will be investigations, possible trials, family drama, and a long road to repairing my credit. My parents might go to jail. The family might never forgive me. I might lose relationships I value.
But I also know that I can’t sacrifice my entire financial future—and James’s future, and our potential children’s future—to protect people who showed no hesitation in sacrificing me. They made their choices over and over for twelve years. Now I’m making mine.
To anyone reading this who might be in a similar situation: check your credit report. Freeze your credit if you have family members you don’t trust. And know that holding people accountable for crimes against you—even if those people are your parents—doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you someone who refuses to be victimized.
I’m not a bad daughter. I’m a daughter who was criminally wronged by the people who were supposed to protect her. And I’m choosing to protect myself now, even though it costs me.
UPDATE – Day 3: The detective called. My parents are claiming I gave them “verbal permission” to use my credit and now I’m just mad about the amount. Their lawyer has advised them not to speak to me directly. My mom sent a letter via my grandmother (who still has my address) saying she “never meant for things to get this bad” and asking me to reconsider “ruining their lives.” I didn’t respond. Tyler found three credit cards in his name with $12,000 in debt. He’s filing his own report. Our parents stole from both their children to fund their lifestyle. I’m done feeling guilty.
UPDATE – Day 7: The investigation is moving forward. The prosecutor’s office contacted me—apparently this case is strong enough that they’re pursuing charges even without my active participation (though my cooperation obviously helps). Multiple family members have stopped speaking to me. I’m sad, but also realizing that people who defend identity theft aren’t people I need in my life. James and I met with a financial advisor who specializes in credit repair. She says with the police report and disputes, my credit could recover to the 700s within 18-24 months. We’re looking at it as a temporary setback, not a life sentence. And we’re doing it without $87,000 in debt hanging over our heads. I made the right choice.
