The Contra - Rebecca Palmer

The Contra by Rebecca Palmer

Book excerpt

Sometimes, it appears that you have all the fundamental sections in your life which should make you complete: a house, a husband, good friends, a supportive family, and the perfect job—yet still there’s something missing. Almost like a young child faced with their future as a series of jigsaw pieces they must collect and slot into place along the way; although I was lucky enough to have all of my pieces, the picture I was presented with when my jigsaw was finally complete appeared bland. It was not exciting. Somehow, there was still something missing, I just didn’t know what.

My job, my husband, my family, all the major things in my life which I somehow cast aside and deemed as being not that important in relation to ‘finding myself’—I now realise they were the best things in my life until I neglected to appreciate them. The picture on my jigsaw only looked bland because that was the way I chose to see it. Others would have found my jigsaw exhilarating; others would have envied my complete jigsaw as they scraped to find even one piece of theirs.

It’s been five days since they took me here. I have to admit it is truly beautiful, and there appears to be no conflict or war. It feels like I’ve left my world where things were like Desperate Housewives on a daily basis to stepping onto the set of High School Musical. Everyone has a cheesy smile on their face and, God forbid, people even break into song at least twice a day, with everyone joining in like some bizarre kind of cult. Cult. That’s a good word for it. I feel like an outsider here. I’m told I will get used to it. I’ve been provided with my new ‘home’ and people keep smiling and waving at me as if they’ve known me for years. I believe I’ve cried enough tears these past few days than all these people here combined have cried in years.

On arrival to this strange and unfamiliar place, I was presented with five pairs of the ghastliest large frilly knickers and two identically hideous bras, which resembled maternity bras as opposed to the lace lingerie I was used to back home, alongside two towels and a notebook. I wasn’t entirely sure what the notebook was initially for; however, an old and overly happy woman told me it was to ‘write down my thoughts and feelings’. Initially I thought how this was a rather odd thing to be presented alongside clean underwear and towels. Then again what wasn’t odd about this place? I understand now that perhaps the notebook was their way of trying to give you some sanity through a safe space—the only space—to express your true feelings.

I am aware that I have jumped ahead of myself, but I suppose that’s what I’ve always done in life. I was never one of these kinds of women to live in the moment; everything had to be pre-planned and booked. Spontaneity just wasn’t my style. From a young girl I had my whole life mapped out. I would go to university, fall in love, get the perfect job, and marry my perfect man. They were my pieces of the jigsaw. I went to a fantastic University, studied Law, met Jake in my second year, and we married at the age of twenty-five, just three months after I graduated. I enjoy helping people complete their jigsaws. Or should I say enjoyed. My never-ending optimism seems to be vastly running out in this place. It’s my job to create solutions for people, to be able to see the bigger picture and create resolutions, and for the first time in my life I’m struggling to see any solution or plausible explanation for what has occurred in these past five days.

Here’s my story.