Am I Actually Healing From Mold or Just Having a Good Week?

The question that made every good day feel fragile.

Some weeks felt lighter.

I had more energy. Less fear. Fewer symptoms pulling at my attention.

And instead of enjoying it, I waited for the drop.

I remember thinking, “Is this healing — or am I about to crash again?”

Good days didn’t bring relief. They brought suspicion.

Feeling better didn’t feel safe yet.

Why good weeks didn’t convince me I was healing

Early on, improvement had always been temporary.

Every small lift had been followed by a fall.

My body had taught me not to trust good days.

So when better weeks started appearing again, my nervous system stayed guarded.

Hope felt risky.

My hesitation wasn’t pessimism — it was memory.

I still had symptoms.

They just weren’t constant anymore.

This confusion echoed what I had already lived through in the months when symptoms lingered after leaving mold.

I assumed healing meant symptoms disappearing completely.

Instead, they softened. Then returned. Then softened again.

Healing didn’t erase symptoms all at once — it changed their pattern.

Because I had felt worse after leaving mold, improvement no longer felt linear.

Every dip made me doubt the rise before it.

I stopped believing my body could improve without punishing me for it.

So good weeks felt temporary by default.

My nervous system hadn’t learned consistency yet.

I stopped looking at individual days.

I started noticing trends.

That shift came only after accepting that normal doesn’t return suddenly.

Healing showed up as fewer crashes, not perfect weeks.

Bad days still happened.

They just didn’t erase everything anymore.

Progress became something I could see backward, not forward.

Does a setback mean I’m not healing?
I learned that setbacks didn’t undo progress — they existed alongside it.

Why do good weeks still make me anxious?
Because my body hadn’t learned yet that improvement could last.