Bellevue is called "The Birthplace of Nebraska," and there could not be a better place to exemplify the Heartland of America. What is it like to be a divorced woman in this small city, surrounded by farms, churches, a neighboring Air Force Base, a place where folks are friendly, patriotism is abundant, and conservatism reigns.

Sara Muse, 23, knows what it is like to endure a divorce in this conservative part of the country, and she knows what it’s like to do it with a 3-year-old daughter, Rhyanne, in tow.

"I was married for about a year and a half before she was born," Sara says. Her eyes light up when she speaks about Rhyanne, whom she has essentially been raising by herself since her divorce a year ago.

"He sees her a couple of times a month … at my house, not at his. He'll come over for a few hours and then leave. He doesn't take her overnight."

Sara does not fit the stereotypical image of a divorced woman, and a single mother. She’s a Staff Sergeant in the U.S. Air Force and a semester away from earning her bachelor's degree in marketing management.

She volunteers, and is active in her church. "When I first separated I was 21 with a small child, and I was walking around with no ring on my finger,” she says.

“People will look at you and the child, then your hand and there’s just this, 'How old are you? Did you get pregnant in high school? Did you make a mistake? Did you not play by the rules?'"

She’s also heard people say, “Oh you are so young to already be divorced.”

She says, “Like I’m starting on this path to five or six husbands."

Check back tomorrow for the story of Sara’s marriage

I am about a month into my new life — and I am slowly losing my mind.

Actually, it’s not that slow.

Since leaving school, I have traveled back to the West Coast to present some research, moved — to the suburbs, no less -- and have not managed to find a job. I cannot tell you how badly my nerves are frayed. If not for the fact that I am afraid of lightning storms, I would probably be able to run about 100 miles fueled by nervous energy.

I know life changes are not supposed to be easy. I have been through enough of them to know this is the case. But that doesn’t keep my insecurities from welling up and overriding my rational mind.

I think the thing that bothers me the most is that so much is out of my control. Nothing chafes me as much as being without a job. Living in a country where people are defined by what they do, (I’m an investment banker, I’m a teacher, I’m a dog trainer), doing nothing leaves them feeling like they have nothing, like they are nothing.

I hate labels, always have, but that doesn’t fill the cavernous hole in my soul that not having a job has created.

There are a lot of men in my life who are telling me what to do.

I didn't realize it until recently. I was driving home from a session with my therapist and I started to wonder why I sought his approval so much. I mean, it's great that he's there for me to unload all my problems on, but it wasn't until that drive home that a light bulb came on in my head and I realized that just about everything my therapist says, I take to heart.

When he agrees with something I say, I'm pleased. When he disagrees with something I say, I start to wonder what I can do to fix my way of thinking.

I look for approval from my pastor a lot, too. We'll have conversations where a lot of the time my sentences end with, "...don't you think so?" or "...but what do you think?" Then when he tells me what he thinks, I mull it over for quite some time.

I look for approval from my husband. Even though he wholly ignores my writing I still mention some of my new jobs to him once in a while, hoping that he'll take a look on his own and tell me what he thinks. When something happens that I'm proud of — paying off a bill, getting a big project around the house finished, or whatever other good things I may do — I hope that my husband will give me a pat on the back for it.

How did I get so needy? It's not like I had an absent father growing up or anything like that. Is this something that most women just innately do?

When I was readying myself to leave my husband, all I really wanted was for someone to tell me it was the right decision. When my pastor told me he thought a trial separation might be a good idea, I felt empowered. When my therapist didn't like the idea, I began to rethink the whole thing. When my husband said that he didn't want to separate, it was like the wind was taken out of my sails.

What do I have to do to start thinking for myself?

In my preparations for graduation, I have come to realize that I am not making a big enough deal out of this. Ironically, it's for the same reason I have heard from people going into a second marriage. Mind you, not everyone shares this sentiment, but I have heard it enough to pose this question:

Why is it that the second chance is always downplayed?

I know that the fear of failure is always in the back of people's minds, also that the second "whatever" is testament to the fact that the first time didn't work out as planned.

Finally finishing my BA at the tender age of 32 is bittersweet. While I am thrilled that this day has come, and I am proud of what I have been able to accomplish — in spite of life's curveballs, there is a rather large part of me that wishes my mother didn't ask me to buy announcements, wasn't flying in for the ceremony, and that I didn't have to buy the commencement garb.

Thank goodness for those people who more or less make you celebrate the good times. Otherwise, not taking advantage of celebrating one of my biggest accomplishments — and certainly one of the happier milestones of my life — might in fact have turned out to be one of my biggest regrets. Celebrate the second time. Celebrate the third, fifth, ninth time. Just celebrate for Pete's sake. Be happy in the moment, and for the moment. Rejoice in the fact that you have another chance to be happy in life. I know I will.