Treating the Physical, Emotional, and Spiritual Side of Mold Illness





I was hanging on by a thread. I had gone in for my last ketamine appointment before going to treatment. The ketamine helped me to maintain some movement but it was doing less and less each time. I was deteriorating and I knew it. Steve knew it. My parents could see it. My sister could see it.

I was exhausted.

During ketamine, you are pretty out of it. It's anesthesia but they don't put you completely under. You're in and out of it. I had started the ketamine for the severe ptsd, depression and anxiety. I was continuing it for the paralysis. Regardless of why you're using ketamine, it will bring stuff up. Emotions, fears, traumas. It does it in a way that's not quite as traumatic as living it again but it's not fun, nonetheless. 

After each appointment we'd met: the anesthesiologist who administers the ketamine, the counselor (if you had one in the room) and your relative that you had there with you.

So there we sit: Me, Steve, my counselor and the anesthesiologist.

They're kind there. They very gently tell me that they think maybe that I should speak to one of their counselors: a former pastor.

"While you were under, you were crying and looking for God."

I'm a little stunned. God has been the only thing that has gotten me this far. I'm embarrassed. How could I have been so weak?

We set up the appointment for me to come back and meet with the counselor in a week. After we leave, though, I look at Steve.

"I don't want to meet with the counselor. I don't want to have to relay my story to one more person. I'd rather just talk to my dad."

He says he understands and I call back and cancel the appointment.

My dad is a former pastor, bible teacher and certified Biblical Counselor. He has watched me go through all of this. I don't have to rehash the past, we can just dive in. That's what I prefer.

I call my dad and ask him if he can come over. He's amazing so he does.

We sit outside and talk. I spend a lot of time outside. It's the only place I feel halfway decent (in retrospect, a warning sign). I tell him what happened during ketamine, how embarrassed I am.

He looks at me and says, "Well, what do you think is going on?"


I break down sobbing.

"I think I am absolutely exhausted."

"So do I," he says. "We want to separate our lives into compartments: the spiritual, the emotional, the physical, but that's just not how life works. It all effects each other."

We talk for a while and pray and I feel relieved, knowing I'm actually just human.




We see this happen in the book of Job. Job starts strong. In Job 1, we are led right into Job's trials. In one day he loses almost everything, including his children. Yet we are told his reaction:

Then Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head and fell on the ground and worshiped. And he said, "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." In all this Job did not sin or charge God with wrong.
Job 1:20-22

Joel James writes in his e book, Help! I Can't Handle All These Trials,

A second reason Job went off the rails was that he let the termite of time gnaw at his faith. According to Job 7:3, Job's grief and the burning torments of his physical ailments had extended for months by the time his friends arrived. Job's suffering felt eternal; the sheer duration of it was wearing him down.

....Time is a killer in trials. Like Job, we start with strong faith, but as we tick off the days on the calendar, turn the page over to a new month, eventually buy a new calendar for next year, and then a new one for the year after that, we can easily despair. Time makes trials hard.

And that was where I was. Time was affecting me emotionally, physically, and spiritually. It was wearing me down.


The fact is, that the past (now almost) 4 years have had an impact on me. They just have. I have to treat all of these: physical, emotional and spiritual.

Physically, there are supplements and medications that I have to take. There are brain exercises that I have to do.
Emotionally, I have to watch my stress. It's my number one trigger. I have to prioritize relationships.
Spiritually, I have to focus on who God is and who I am.

So, as I am going forward, I am going to seek to blog this journey. I shared this the other day, but I'm going to do this for a few reasons:

1. To hold myself accountable. This is work. It's not easy. If I just keep doing what I've been doing, I will remain where I am.
2. For my own records. This is so I can see how far I've come but also see what's working and what isn't.
3. For those who feel hopeless. I have spoken to those who are struggling with giving up. I have spoken to friends who have lost someone who did give up. I hope to point others to truth and hope.


On the top of this blog, you will see 4 categories. The first is my mold illness story. When someone asks me for my story, I always want to point them to this blog for a few reasons:

1. I just don't want to live in the past anymore. The past few years have been extraordinarily painful. I have no desire to rehash it. 
2. I have put pretty much my whole mold story (with records) up on my blog for anyone that wants to read it. I have shown pictures and video of what I went through. If pictures tell a thousand words, I believe you can learn much more by reading what I have already posted.
3. To the glory of God. That is my end goal. I desire to show His faithfulness and His truth through all of this.

The second, third and fourth categories are on the physical, emotional and spiritual issues that I am working through as I move forward. Many of these will overlap because, that's just how life works. I hope that this will encourage you in whatever you are going through.

In Christ,







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