Internationally renowned singer, songwriter, and author of 'Yndico' Sandra Olajide reveals to Black Voices how she "caught the crazy" and lived to tell about it:

The first time I fell in love is a tumultuous story, but unlike Romeo and Juliet or Tristan and Isolde, my tragedy would be one that I survived and eventually thrived from. I was seventeen, and like most girls my age, I fell hopelessly and completely in love for the very first time. This was a difficult period in my life as I was lonely, things at home were tough, and I rarely had anyone to turn to for advice. I was yearning to experience love, even though all I knew of it was garnered from a few romantic movies and an old beat up harlequin novel. I knew even less about sex, and by the time I turned 18, I was pregnant with my first son.
My boyfriend at the time, was my great love, and we had big plans to raise our child together. He was a football star, who had scholarships and offers from agents, who pursued him to go pro. We were both in college and the fantasy we had created of the life we would live as a family was perfect. Looking back, I can now see how the obstacles were stacked against us. Juggling college and the demands of a new baby, the pressure began to get the better of us. His mother became a negative force in our lives, whispering in his ear that I would never amount to anything, and the baby would be nothing more than a ball and chain in his future. That argument eventually took root, and he came home one night and started a massive fight. He had succumbed to the pressure, and as he spewed his mothers venom, I had hoped that he would come to his senses and choose differently. His words were so spiteful that I could only counter by telling him he was free to go if he felt that way. He surprised me by saying that if I wanted him to go, then he would go. He had found the perfect excuse to get out.

He collected a few of his things, but left behind some of his most prized football possessions. As I touched his favorite game ball, and spied his shoes on the floor, I had the sinking feeling of abandonment and betrayal. I had $20 to my name, and even though I was working at the time, I was two weeks away from my next paycheck. He hadn't bothered to leave any money, and I knew that my only choice was to feed my son, while I went hungry. I became angry and frustrated, and in a fit of rage I took a screwdriver to his game ball, and turned all his other belongings into confetti. I trashed them all, like he had trashed my life, and began shaking my fists at the sky and railing against he, his mother, and god. I loved him and I hated him, and I didn't know how to reconcile such conflicting emotions.

Through out those days I cried constantly until I felt completely empty. On the third day I awoke to giant swollen eyes that felt like two huge sticky golf balls. Focusing my attention on my son, I realized that he had been eerily quiet through out my meltdown. Oh my god! What a great baby life has given me. He didn't make a sound for the entire three days unless he was hungry. He is a blessing and he deserves better. He deserves my attention, and my love. A new strength surged inside of me, and I knew that it was time to say "Enough!"

I grabbed the stroller and pushed him outside into a bright spring morning. The sunlight was burning my eyes, since I had spent the last three days locked up like a mole in a hole. Walking past the mailbox, I refrained from checking it, since it would only be filled with bills anyway. I felt good for the first time in a long time, and I wanted to spend the day enjoying my son. Suddenly something made me stop, and I walked back to the mailbox. You know what? I can face whatever is out there, bills or no bills, it doesn't matter. Opening the mailbox, I pulled out two envelopes that were both from the IRS. Ripping one open, I scanned it quickly and as my eyes fell upon the sum of $1500. Peering down at my son, I felt connected to him, connected to my feelings, and connected to myself, and it made me smile. I was in one of the most awful predicaments of my life, and I was smiling. Suddenly a rectangular paper fell out of the envelope. As I leaned over to pick it up, I realized it was a check for $1500. My heart raced as I tentatively opened the second envelope, sure that the IRS had made a mistake and would want me to return the check. Once again, I scanned it quickly, and found a check in the amount of $1800. I was getting a tax refund for over $3000, and as the realization hit me, I was ecstatic.

It dawned on me that I had learned a profound lesson. I had learned the power of surrender. To surrender enough to feel myself, and connect with a force that allowed me to get up and carry on through an incredibly painful experience. I can see now that the circumstances of how I learned that lesson do not matter. Only that I learned the skill that would color my journey through life. Surrender is simple, though not always easy, but once you embrace it, you will be able to connect with your true self.