Media Secret: Hidden Johansson

Settling Into the New Normal

The car hummed softly as we drove down the familiar streets of LA, heading towards my mom's house in the hills. I could see the city sprawled out beneath us, a mix of lights and traffic that stretched on for miles. Everything looked the same as when I'd left, but I felt different. The world seemed both too fast and too quiet all at once, like I was watching it through a lens that wasn't quite in focus.

My mother stayed quiet, sensing that I needed the space. Every now and then, she glanced over at me, her eyes filled with the silent question: Are you okay? But she didn't press, and I was grateful for that.

We pulled into the driveway, the house coming into view—a large, modern structure tucked into the hills with glass walls and sleek lines. It was familiar, but like everything else today, it felt distant. I hadn't been here in so long that it was like walking into someone else's life. A life I barely recognized anymore.

The car came to a stop, and we both sat in silence for a moment before she spoke.

"I had the guest room made up for you," she said, her voice soft. "But if you'd rather stay somewhere else—"

"No," I cut in quickly, not wanting to make her feel like I was pulling away. "Here is fine."

She nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Alright, let's get you settled."

We stepped out of the car, the cool evening air a stark contrast to the warmth of the sun that had kissed the city earlier. I grabbed my duffel bag from the trunk, feeling the familiar weight of it on my shoulder as we walked towards the front door. The house felt strangely quiet when we entered, the echo of our footsteps the only sound in the vast, open space.

She led me upstairs to the guest room. It was clean, minimal, everything in its place. A far cry from the chaotic energy of my life over the last few years. The bed was made with crisp white sheets, a suitcase of my things sitting in the corner that she must have brought over from storage.

"I'll let you get settled," she said, lingering at the door for a moment. "If you need anything, I'll be downstairs."

"Thanks, Mom," I said, giving her a small nod. She closed the door gently behind her, leaving me alone in the room.

I dropped the duffel bag at the foot of the bed, standing there for a moment, letting the silence fill the space around me. It felt surreal to be back. To be standing in a room that wasn't a sterile, white-walled therapy center.

After a few moments, I sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress soft beneath me. The quiet was too much. It had always been the quiet that got to me. In Switzerland, it was structured, controlled. Here, it was empty.

I stood up and walked to the window, staring out at the sprawling city below. A thousand lives being lived, a thousand stories happening all at once. And yet, mine felt like it was stuck, paused in some liminal space between who I used to be and whoever I was supposed to become.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me out of my thoughts. I pulled it out, the screen lighting up with a notification. It was a text from Florence.

**Florence:** *Welcome home.*

It was simple, just two words, but it hit me harder than I expected. She hadn't reached out much over the last year, giving me the space I needed to focus on recovery. But now, seeing her name on my screen felt like a lifeline.

I stared at the message for a moment before typing a quick reply.

**Me:** *Thanks. It's... strange being back.*

She responded almost instantly.

**Florence:** *I can imagine. Do you want to talk? Or meet up sometime?*

The offer was tempting. I'd missed her more than I wanted to admit. But at the same time, I wasn't sure if I was ready. My mind was still tangled in the mess of everything I'd been through, and I wasn't sure how to let her back in without dragging her into it, too.

I hesitated before responding.

**Me:** *Maybe in a few days. Just trying to get my bearings first.*

**Florence:** *Of course. Take your time. I'm here whenever you're ready.*

I put the phone down, letting out a long breath. It felt good knowing she was still there, still waiting. But there was no rush. I needed to figure things out on my own first.

The next few days passed in a blur. My mother hovered but gave me space, only stepping in when she thought I needed something. She'd been through this before—watching me come home from deployment, watching me try to reintegrate into a world that no longer felt like mine. But this time was different. This time, I wasn't just coming home from a mission—I was coming home from a year of facing demons I had kept buried for far too long.

On the third day, she suggested we go for a walk. Just something simple, down by the beach, away from the noise and chaos of the city. I agreed, needing to get out of the house, to feel the sun on my skin, to remind myself that I was still alive.

We walked in silence for a while, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore providing a comforting background noise. The beach wasn't crowded, a few people here and there, but it was mostly quiet. Peaceful.

After a while, she broke the silence.

"You don't have to talk about it," she said, her voice gentle. "But I want you to know that if you do... I'm here."

I looked over at her, seeing the concern etched into her features. It had always been hard for her, knowing what I went through but never fully understanding it. But she had never pushed. She always let me come to her when I was ready.

"I know," I said, my voice soft. "And I appreciate that."

She nodded, not pushing any further. We continued walking, the silence between us comfortable, like it always had been.

As we reached the end of the beach, I stopped, turning to face her.

"I'm trying, Mom," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "I'm really trying. But it's... hard. Being back here. Being around everything that feels so normal when nothing feels normal inside."

She stepped closer, placing a hand on my arm. "I know. And I don't expect you to have it all figured out right away. Just... take it one day at a time. You've been through so much, Tom. Give yourself time to adjust."

I nodded, knowing she was right, but the weight of it all still pressing down on me. Time. It was all I had now, and yet, I wasn't sure if it would ever be enough.

We stood there for a while longer, the ocean stretching out before us, the waves crashing rhythmically against the shore. And for the first time since coming home, I felt a small sense of peace. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

Maybe, just maybe, I could make this work.