For some reason, or maybe for no reason at all, Kentucky now requires her residents to “upgrade” their drivers’ licenses to what is being called a “REAL ID.” This multi-step process requires several items to prove, once and for all, that we really are who we say we are. Had I known that a passport, two pieces of mail addressed to me at my current home, and my latest pay check stub could solidify my REAL Identity, I would have driven to one of those conveniently located regional Drivers’ Licensing Offices years ago!

Decades of struggling with how I prove myself to others, and all I needed was a REAL ID – issued by none other than the state government? What a stunning discovery. Perhaps, like me, you are already calculating the money you could have saved on counseling, and all that chocolate. Who needs comfort food to compensate for personal insecurity? A little laminated card tells everyone who I am, and it’s REAL. No one can argue with this definitive documentation, not even me!

Oh, the stress I could avoided: Overcommitting myself, reading stacks of books promising to help me improve; dressing for success, earning all A’s in college (OK, so I didn’t flourish in “Geography of the National Parks,” who cares?), offering the perfect word at just the right time to someone in pain, none of these things established my true identity like I had hoped. Apparently, settling the matter was infinitely less demanding, and clearly explained on my state’s official website. All I had to do was:

1. Activate Waze to find the not-so-conveniently-located DLO;
2. Walk through the clearly marked door with my folder full of required documents;
3. Retrace my steps back to the car to wait for a phone call (All the black plastic chairs were occupied upstairs, even though I had made an appointment; they were “running just a little bit behind.”)
4. Decide whether or not to keep my heater running on a below freezing day, complete with gale force winds affecting the feels-like temperature;
5. Return to the right building when texted;
6. Take a seat in an over-heated, over-populated room with 8 agent stations (4 of which were abandoned);
7. Overhear a conversation between one agent and a 96-year-old who couldn’t seem to focus on the blue dot long enough to result in an authorized photograph (so many questions left unanswered there);
8. Step forward when my name was called;
9. Produce the proper items;
10. Initial an incomprehensible statement on an official iPad;
11. Focus directly on the blue dot (success!); and
12. Wait 10 days for the new card to arrive in the mail.

So, it was a bit of an ordeal, but nothing compared with all the people, places and ways I’ve tried to establish my true identity over these last 61 years. Come on, friends, step right up and get your own REAL ID! Finally, we can rest secure in our authenticated existence – well, at least until those pesky renewal notices show up in the mail.