A Year to Heal

Today marks one year exactly since I got sick… and what a wild ride it's been. 

The pictures below are taken four months apart. The first photo is the last picture of myself before I got sick. 

The photo below is probably one of the most sickly photos of me, if not the most. Bryce took that roughly three weeks before I got my labs back, showing I had high levels of toxic mold attacking my body. As a result of the mold, several of my major organs were disfunctioning, in addition to the contraction of multiple parasites. 

I was sick. Flat out fighting for my life. 

I don't say that to garner sympathy or to be overdramatic. I say it as an honest and raw example of my desperation for healing. 

Mold, no matter how bizarre it may seem or confusing to those on the outside, is a silent killer. And because it's often misdiagnosed, hardly understood, and a dismissed disease -- a path of treatment is unconventional. 

I've been walking a road untraveled by anyone personal in my life. My treatments, protocols, and healing have heavily been guided by myself through avenues of podcasts, books, online forums, and, most notably, prayer. 

Each day was a guessing game if my treatment was working and if there were issues other than the mold I needed to address.

I lost any semblance of control over my life within a matter of a few hours. July 26th, 2023, my body went into a panic attack that just never left. My brain was firing off many signals, yelling at me that my body was breaking down.

I was falling apart.

I lost an unhealthy amount of weight in a matter of weeks, not of my own choice but a combination of parasites, mold, stress, and dietary choices. My brain fog was so intense that I could hardly concentrate to make lunch. My brain was in this constant state between exhaustion and overstimulation unless I was vegetating on the couch. My memory, recollection, eyesight, muscle mass, coloring of my skin, and even yellow splotches on the whites of my eyes were daily reminders of how desperate I was for some hope of healing. 

On top of the physical and mental stress I was under, I also had the stress of being separated from my husband, Bryce. Five grueling months of bimonthly visits for only a weekend weighed heavily on us. Only by God's Grace did he sustain us through such a barren time—a perfect opportunity for Satan to attack us at a time when we were weak, sick, and separated. The spiritual warfare that was waged on our marriage had a palpable feeling. There was tension, upset-ness, and a fair share of unwise words hurled into our marriage. Yet, the unity of our marriage is nothing short of God's hand of blessing and guidance over us. It is a true test of how to love, honor, cherish, and respect one another. A practical application of the vows we spoke on our wedding day. 

I've been on my knees daily, asking God for healing, redemption, renewal, and rebirth. Something to redeem all that was lost. Many days, I've found myself sobbing over all the what were's, what ifs, what had's. The mourning of naïve me frolicking around Disney, not knowing I would be a shell of a person by the end of our trip. Or the title wave of emotion when I think about leaving my beautiful house in Charleston without a proper goodbye -- packing up a suitcase and duffle bag to live with my parents for almost half a year. The forfeiting of trips because I was too sick, and the gut-wrenching feeling of watching Bryce drive away every other weekend. 

Oh God. Why?! I'm only 23. This should be the prime of my life. My grandparents, in their 80s, are running circles around me.

I was so confused. My life felt like it had been robbed from me. And I didn't know what healing looked like. I didn't know what new normal to accept and expect. All my medical practices were uncharted territory. It wasn't a three-step process that, by the end, guaranteed success. It was truly hope and prayer. 

Yet, through this storm, I heard God like I had never heard Him before. I felt Him and saw Him. I knew of God at this point last year, but I certainly didn't know Him like I do now. (I pray I say the same thing five years from now.) 

Scriptures jump off the pages at me and minister to me like never before. From the beginning of this journey, I heard Christ's still, small voice saying two things. The first, "Do you trust Me?" And the second was the word- Rebirth. 

Oh, how I felt like my faith has failed me more than I would like to admit. I constantly cry to God, "I believe, help my disbelief!" I would get so angry when the brain fog or chaos in my brain would come to a fever pitch. My rational cognitive abilities would elude me. I could feel the disconnect but couldn't stop it. In these moments, I felt so forsaken and forgotten by God. What was happening to my body felt so wrong. But these fits of anger exposed that I was trusting my understanding of my body more than my understanding of who God is. Proverbs 3:5-6 rang true like never before. "Lean not on your own understanding, but in all your ways acknowledge Him, and he will direct your path." Whenever Ifelt like my health was slipping, God would be saying, "Do you trust Me?"

What felt like a cruel punishment on my body has really been a loving molding of my character to trust and obey. All along, God has just wanted me and my trust.

Secondly, the word that the Holy Spirit often spoke to me was Rebirth. 

It's a word of hope and encouragement I've clung to on my darkest days. Reminding myself that the God I serve promises to make all things new. However, in full transparency, there were periods when I felt like this hope of Rebirth was false hope—empty words to give me temporary comfort. When you're so shrouded in darkness, it often muffles God's still, small voice. Nevertheless, He is still there sitting, watching, and protecting- never leaving and never backtracking on His word. 

During this period of sickness, I've frequently thought of Joni Eareckson Tada. If you aren't familiar with her and her story, I encourage you to read about her testimony. In short, she became a quadriplegic as a teenager and never regained mobility. She is the prime example of someone who's never experienced healing this side of heaven. Yet, all the verses about how God is the healer, "For I will restore health to you, and your wounds will be healed, declares the Lord." -Jeremiah 30:17, still apply to Joni. Healing is eternal. Perfect, flawless bodies come when our sinful world is no longer involved. I've wrestled with the thought of healing for myself. There's no promise that I will be healed on this side of heaven and feel healthy, strong, and confident in my body's functionality. I've struggled with this thought, and honestly, with some bitterness. Yet, Christ kept instilling hope in me, and I have clung to the optimism of whatever this Rebirth would look like — earth or heaven side. 

Sometimes, God uses figurative language or imagery to speak to us and deepen our understanding of Him, yet at other times, He speaks literally. 

My "rebirth" is a literal instance. At the end of this April, Bryce was offered a remote job that allowed him to work/move anywhere. What an answer to prayer! Our long-distance time was ending, and the Lord provided us with a clean, mold-free apartment in Richmond, VA. Layers of stress started to peel back. Long distance was over, Bryce and I would be close to our support system, a viable living option was available, and I had been seeing increased healing in my body. Yet, amid the chaos and excitement, God drew my attention to what month it was and the date. It was exactly nine months since I had gotten sick. Nine months to create a new life in me, to grow physically and spiritually. 

The first time I realized this, I was floored. What a beautiful and practical miracle that had taken place in my life. The Lord set me aside, isolating me, not as a punishment but as a proper environment for me to heal and to hear my savior's voice. This season of darkness, quietness, waiting, and purging was in preparation for the Rebirth God was stirring inside me. There is no luck with God's timing. He is methodical and precise. He knows what we need and how long it takes to create something new. 

Since the end of April, I've been in a state of readjustment. I'm becoming a wife again, figuring out a new routine, trying to stay consistent with my treatment plan (admittedly, I got a little off course, which had some adverse side effects, but now I'm leveling out again), and being faithful with what God's given me. 

I feel a huge responsibility placed on me because of what I've gone through. I've navigated this mold/chronic/invisible illness practically on my own. There's so much I have learned that would have been so helpful if I had known a year ago. But outside of the medical realm, I see a need for encouragement and spiritual support for those suffering from sickness and the caregivers of those suffering. It's a heavy burden, especially when you're deep in the trenches. 

This story has been written and given to me by my Heavenly Father. It's not my testimony to keep hidden or a part of my life to breeze over. It's for the sake of the Gospel and Kingdom expansion. 

The Lord has done mighty and wondrous things in my life, physically and spiritually. Here I am, a year out, with far more knowledge and understanding of who God is and how He made me. My story of Rebirth is an example of the everyday miracles we see because of Christ. 

It's also an example that answered prayers aren't always wrapped up in a neat bow with no more suffering. Still, it's a tangible and real example that my God sees, hears, and heals. 

Currently, I continue to stay consistent with my mold treatment. I have lingering symptoms as a result of the trauma this illness caused on my brain that I am now addressing. A few secondary issues have bubbled to the surface because of the mold. However, based on recent testing, mold is no longer my primary concern. 

Therefore, my treatments are working, and my body is healing! Praise be to God! What a mighty and loving Creator we serve!

I am sure that for years to come, the Lord will reveal all the different ways He's using this sickness for immeasurable good. I have already seen that by being sick, the objective hasn't been for me to "just heal." Rather to know my Father so deeply that words could never describe. I pray no one ever finds themselves as sick as I have been. But if this were the only way to know my Heavenly Father to the depths I do now, I would do it again.

  Ironically, just a month ago, I was going through a bout of grief because of everything Bryce and I had gone through. I felt pity for what we had endured — But within a month, perspectives can change. I look back at that dinner at Disney where I got violently sick and have a tenderness in my heart towards that moment. I feel empowered by the knowledge I have; I have witnessed the love of Christ, and he allowed me to get sick in order to heal. I feel so grateful that God has entrusted this story to be a part of my testimony. 

In the days and weeks to come, I'll share a more condensed version of my treatment plan and all the resources I've used and continue to apply in my everyday life. I will also launch one-on-one and group sessions for anyone who wants to work with me. I specialize in mold and spiritual mentorship/encouragement. I'll also keep writing articles about holistic healing, wellness, and Biblical encouragement.

I am so thankful to every single one of you. Your prayers, encouragement, and friendship have meant the world to me through this season. Thank you for letting me share this story and for listening to the words God has given me. I fully trust that the Lord will carry this to everyone who needs to read this. Please share, repost, and send it to anyone who might benefit from talking with a chronic illness survivor — that's me! ¨̮  ¨̮  

The photo below shows me on vacation just this past week. A year since I got sick. Look at how good God is! The Lord truly has restored my health and healed me of my wounds. Jer. 30:17