My Identity


I’m finally a Nevadan, Nevadian or whatever you may call it. In other words, I’m officially a legal resident of Nevada. Apparently, when you move down here, you are supposed to get your state ID within the first 30 days of residing in your new establishment. However, I broke that rule because didn’t make the effort to get my ID established until last weekend. It just received it in the mail today. It feels kind of weird to be holding this piece of plastic that determines my identity to others. It’s lighter and flimsier than my Kansas one, and my picture is much smaller. I’m not sure I particularly care for it.

There are a few reasons why I didn’t get my Nevada ID on time. It was partly because I didn’t have time, but partly because I felt I was shredding my Kansas identity. Shredding the remnants of who I was. Having my Kansas ID was what I considered the only piece of Kansas that I took with me when I left. It’s quite difficult for me to part with. I remember when I had just turned 21 and I was finally able to discard my “minor” identification that let everyone know I was underage. They took my old one from me and gave me a receipt-like piece of paper that would serve as a replacement until my new ID would come in the mail. When I was I getting my ID for Nevada they punched holes in my old Kansas one, therefore, christening my transition from Kansan to Nevadan. The lady at the DMV informed me that once my new ID came in the mail I could toss my old one.

I didn’t want to toss my old one. I turned it over in my hand, running my fingers over the little small hole punches that were put into it. Instead, I keep it tucked behind my new one. Hidden away from others. It’s like my little secret that only I know about. It serves as a reminder to me that although I have moved to another state, another city, my identity that I see myself as will always remain a part of me. I don’t want to be that person that thinks they are too good because they were able to leave and shuns everyone that had to stay. I was always told to never forget where you came from. Where you came from is who made you who you are.


About meetmeinnevada

A Kansas girl trying to navigate the changes of the big city of Las Vegas, Nevada by talking about life, thoughts, and relationships.
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9 Responses to My Identity

  1. I can relate to this. Here in London we don’t have any sort of identity cards so my way of keeping my identity is by intensifying my accent – even though I don’t really like my accent. There is a clear difference in accents between the North and south of England. The minute people speak to me they realise i am not from the south then go on to ask about my home town. Being able to speak about it even though i’m not there is a big thing for me.

    Liked by 2 people

    • I know that people have accents from everywhere in the United States, but it’s not as distinguishable as yours. It’s mostly in the words I say or how i refer to things is when people take notice, but other than that it’s like I blend in with everyone else like I’ve lived here my whole life. My identification card is for driving because we drive everywhere here. It’s a bog city. Honestly I love English accents, they are so proper. I used to watch a British TV show Misfits because of the accents and plus they didn’t hold anything back. American shows are nothing like them

      Liked by 1 person

      • I do love the variety of accents we have in England, it’s so diverse, you can tell where somebody is from by listening to them speak one word. Oh yeah I saw misfits a few times. What I find strange is that uk Netflix has a lot of American tv shows whereas US Netflix has a lot of English tv shows 🤔

        Liked by 1 person

      • I got hooked on it from a friend’s mom. She liked it because she was dirty haha. It’s not on Netflix though, I watched it on Hulu. I prefer UK shows. They are more creative.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Accidentally Single says:

    Awww congrats. You’ll always be a Kansas girl at heart.

    Liked by 1 person

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