The Billionaire's Unwanted Nanny

Chapter 4: Lost

I was nauseous, but I kept my smile in place. Jake was excited his father was taking him on vacation. He was babbling about it after handing me the cutest farewell card. I gave the excited boy another hug before walking him to his dad. Ryan was standing, arms folded, and a pair of sunglasses on his face. I felt as if he was looking down on me.

"Ready to go, bud," he asks, practically ignoring me. Ouch. These last few weeks have been hard. He was completely over it but me? I was still harboring a broken heart about the whole thing. It was to the point I was getting physically sick this past week. He helped the four-year-old into the car before walking over to me.

"Tiera, I would like to thank you for your help this summer. It was a pleasure having you as a nanny. If you need any letters of recommendation, please do not hesitate to contact my secretary. You still have her number?" I nodded at him with a polite smile. I can see why he was so successful at his business. He was ruthless. I get it I am not what you want. You do not have to keep eluding to that.

"Thank you again for the opportunity. I had fun this summer." I tell him. I would be genuine about my feelings. "If I need anything, I will contact her. It was wonderful meeting you," I continued, keeping an easy smile on my face. His cold demeanor softens slightly. I think he was nervous I would cause trouble for him. I wouldn't do that. He nods before joining his son in the car. I waved at the two of them before heading to my vehicle.

What now? I still had a week before classes. I haven't dealt with my family at all these past few weeks. I got a few text messages at first. All demanded I grow up and apologize. I held off because my feelings were conflicted. I wasn't the problem. I don't think I was, anyway. My phone beeps. A reminder that my therapy session started in twenty minutes. I was nervous but headed to the address on the calendar invite.

I barely made it to the building on time. Rushing in, I settled in the office the secretary showed me. I was out of breath, and that seemed just to make the sick feeling in my stomach get worse. I hated being late. Now, on my first meeting, I would be out of breath and painfully aware that moving that fast for such a short time made me this tired. I hadn't been in the gym in the last couple of weeks. I just wasn't feeling well enough to go.

The door opens, and a short woman walks in. Her presence was calming, and I forced myself to take a deep, shuddering breath before standing and holding out my hand.

"Hello, Ms. Hall, my name is Lisa", I smiled at her. "Hi, I'm sorry I was late," I apologized as she ushered me to sit down. "No apology needed you were only a couple of minutes late. No harm. " Her gentle tone caused me to relax. She wasn't mad at me. Good.

"I read the information you put on what you wanted to work on, but I would like you to describe what you hope to get out of this therapy journey." I nodded and gathered my thoughts for a moment.

"Um, I want to feel better about myself. I am working on my weight, but I still feel discouraged. I also have no confidence in most of my decisions. I guess you could say I'm fighting with my family as well." I didn't mention Ryan. I think that was enough baggage to start with.

She looked at me for a moment. Her gaze penetrating. I clutch the pillow from the couch tighter. I grabbed it to cover my stomach. "Okay, those are good goals; let's start with what you first said about your weight. What do you see when you look at yourself in the mirror?"

The disgust and shame I normally experienced when looking at myself enveloped me at her question. "Hmm," she murmured. I started at the sound. "Your face told me a lot there. Would you try describing the feelings that caused the expression for me?"

"I'm huge," I whispered, mortified. "Are you?" I moved the pillow and looked down at myself. I looked back at her helplessly. I see my chubby stomach and thick thighs. I know she can see it as well.

"I've been told to lose about 30 pounds by my doctor, but I should probably lose more." "Tiera, have you weighed yourself lately?" I shook my head. Of course not. Why would I torture myself with those numbers?

"I believe you have body dysmorphia," she tells me seriously. I don't understand the term, and she sees the confusion on my face. I guess I'm easy to read as she starts to explain.

"Simply put, you have a distorted image of how you look. When I look at you, I don't see huge. You are average size for a curvy girl. Could you lose weight? Maybe, if it is affecting your health, but I think you hit the goal given to you by your doctor."

"Then why do I still have fat hanging around," I asked her incredulously.

"Doing some toning will help you tighten those areas, but you aren't built to be small. You are the body type I wished to be when I was younger. I hated being thin. I wanted curves. I tried everything to gain weight in unhealthy ways. I learned that most people are unhappy with how they look." she tells me easily. I grabbed a tissue next to me as tears started dripping down my face.

"So, how do I cure body dysmorphia?" I asked her.

"It's a mental illness that isn't curable in the same way that a physical disease is. We need to change your mindset around your body. How you perceive yourself in this world and if you have any other conditions feeding it like depression or anxiety."

"I don't think I am depressed. I get sad, but I still function. I've never let those feelings stop me." I might have had this dysmorphia issue, but I wasn't depressed.

"Is that what you think depression is, just sadness that stops you from accomplishing things?"

"No, I know it is more than that, but I don't believe I have it," I told her sheepishly. I wasn't one of the people who didn't think depression was real and that people just needed to get over sadness. I know it was a real condition I just don't think I have it.

"One of the first things you told me was you wanted to feel better about yourself. Let's examine what you feel about yourself?"

"I don't know how to describe it. I, at times, doubt my decisions. Like, I am in my last semester of design school. I'm good at designing clothes, but I don't have the look to fit into the fashion world. My parents thought I would make a good teacher, especially for smaller children. I was a nanny this past summer, and I was good at it. Yet, I took an extra three years in school because I applied for a scholarship to get into a design school which they refused to pay for. Why would I do that? I don't know if I will make it in this career field. I try to be confident, but it's hard. " I blurted out to her.

She was silent for a moment. " What do your grades look like?" A smile forced itself on my face. "Good," I breathed. I was proud of that, at least.

"If you have successfully been completing classes. Getting good grades and probably praise from your professor. Why so much self-doubt?" My body froze at her words.

"That crippling self-doubt coupled with your ideas about yourself points to you having depression and anxiety issues," her tone is kind, but I can't wrap my head around that idea.

"Then why am I still functioning? My apartment is clean, I am social, I don't oversleep or stop doing things to take care of myself. I don't see how I am expressing that condition." I looked into depression when I was younger. I thought I might have had it, but I didn't see any of the symptoms in my mind anyway.

"Depression isn't a cookie-cutter disease. You call it functioning, what you are doing. I call it surviving. You aren't living. You aren't happy. Yet, you have this idea of what you should be doing, so you focus on that instead. You try to be proud of yourself, but it's hard because you feel like an imposter. Fake it until you make it. I think your family dynamic will shed more light on that, but I think for today, we have touched on a lot."

I would say so. I am more f****d up than I ever thought. "I didn't see any more sessions posted for you. I would love it if you come back. You can schedule sessions with my secretary.

I chuckled wetly. "I'm not too hopeless, huh?" my joke was self-deprecating. She didn't laugh as I expected. "Of course not, dear. You are just lost at the moment." I blinked at her before heading out and scheduling more appointments. I was uncomfortable doing so. Yet, I felt seen. I wanted to explore this more.

I walked out exhausted and starving. I headed home to fix that. I had a small smile for the rest of the evening. I couldn't explain it, but I felt a lot less lost.

"