That's honestly how my first (what? remission?) happened. Following 5 years of chaos, blood, death, pain, drugs, alcohol, sex, and generalized insanity. Pure dumb luck. So when this second bout hit? I waited a year (thinking it was just going to be another short run of a few bad months)... Looked back at how I "cured" myself the first time... Was violently ill... And flung myself at therapy, and trying to do anything but a repeat of those 5 years. Sniff. I miss when I had the energy to do that. Fling myself at a problem. It was the wrong kind of therapy. But it took us awhile to figure that out. 3 years into this run, and I'm honestly starting to consider the kill-or-cure chaos model. At least in my more screwed up moments.
Nope. Just waiting to wake up normal? Hell. At this point I wouldn't even trust it. I'm still learning all of the dozens of things that happened (badly) in those 5 years that equate to pieces of therapy. That I could have done without all of the nonsense. That I'm trying to learn to do on purpose, now, instead of on accident. So this doesn't happen again. Or at least, if/when it cycles around, I can stop it before blowing up this badly. Nope. If I woke up normal tomorrow? Not worth it, unless in can keep it. And to keep it, it has to be done on purpose. At least, that's my experience.
