I went to the DMV expecting to prove who I was. I left wondering whether I’d been married for the past 32 years.

That feels like a lot to get out of one appointment.

While applying for my REAL ID, I learned that the marriage certificate I’ve used for decades was invalid. Now I’m trying to figure out whether there’s a problem with the paperwork or something more complicated. Nothing has been settled. This may be a clerical error, fixable with enough phone calls, forms and patience.

Unfortunately, patience is currently on back order.

Our 32nd wedding anniversary is this month. I’ve been married longer than I wasn’t. Somewhere along the way, “wife” became part of my identity without requiring much thought. It was running in the background while I worked, raised kids and handled whatever needed handling.

I consider myself independent. I have my own opinions, ambitions and a sturdy sense of who I am. So, the possibility that I might be single as a Pringle has unsettled me more than I would have expected.

Even typing that sounds ridiculous. Yet here I am.

My children, naturally, have found the situation hilarious.

“It would be fun to have a wedding!” my daughter announced.

Would it, though?

We eloped 32 years ago. A wedding wasn’t something I wanted then, and this development hasn’t inspired an interest in centerpieces. But running down to the courthouse to put a stamp on something I thought I’d already done doesn’t appeal to me, either.

I’m still trying to understand why both possibilities make me want to sit down and stare at a wall.

Maybe it’s because I wasn’t looking to make a decision about my marriage. I was trying to get an identification card.

There’s something unnerving about having an ordinary errand turn into a question about your life. The years still happened. The kids exist. The history doesn’t vanish because a document raises questions. I know all of that.

Knowing it hasn’t stopped the strange, unmoored feeling.

I suppose this is an opportunity to reflect on how much of my identity rests on things I rarely stop to examine. Apparently, independence doesn’t make me immune to being rattled when something familiar becomes uncertain.

I’d just have preferred to schedule this reflection for a year with fewer other difficulties.

I believe every struggle has a purpose. Lately, though, life has handed me enough change, heartbreak and strife that I’d appreciate a little less purpose and a little more peace.

The universe appears to have misplaced that request.

I’ll make the calls. I’ll find out what happened and what needs fixing. I’ve handled hard things before, and I’ll handle this.

But first, I need to let it marinate. I need a minute to figure out where my head is before everyone starts offering solutions, booking courthouses or shopping for dresses.

For now, the wedding planning committee can stand down.

This previously married woman is still processing the plot twist.

Kim Van Meter is a former full-time reporter for The Oakdale Leader, The Escalon Times and The Riverbank News; she continues to provide a monthly column. She can be reached at kvanmeter@oakdaleleader.com.