Tonya LaHatte

From Perfect Health To Invisible Illness: How Mold Hijacked My Brain

At one point in my life, I was the image of perfect health. I had a thriving functional medicine practice, three grown children building beautiful lives, and a happy marriage. On the outside, everything looked wonderful. But inside, my body and mind were unraveling.

It started subtly — night sweats. At first, they were just annoying. Then they became more frequent, more intense, and impossible to ignore. What followed was a descent into a darkness I couldn’t explain. I was overcome with hopelessness and depression, despite having every reason to feel content.

Then came the physical pain. My entire body ached. My skin was so hypersensitive that even the gentlest touch from my husband felt unbearable. I began having full-body rigors that resembled seizures, though I remained fully conscious during them. My energy vanished. I had once competed in triathlons, yet now I couldn’t climb a flight of stairs without help.

The neurological symptoms were terrifying. I struggled to find words, forgot names, and couldn’t complete sentences. While charting patient notes, I would look down and find my hands blackened by a mysterious substance leaking from my skin. I was changing clothes up to 20 times a night, drenched in sweat. I lined the bed with beach towels and wrapped my pillows in garbage bags to keep mildew at bay.

I sought help from countless medical specialists. Every lab was “normal.” Every MRI was “clear.” Eventually, I was referred to psychiatry. That was the most painful blow — being told that this was all in my head when I knew, with every fiber of my being, that something was terribly wrong.

So I turned to what I knew best: functional medicine. I ran an organic acid test on myself and saw something unusual — elevated markers for Aspergillus, a toxic mold. I confirmed the results with a PhD at the lab and was encouraged to run a mycotoxin panel. My score came back at 225. (Anything over 25 is considered dangerously high.)

I discovered that mold illness — also known as Chronic Inflammatory Response Syndrome (CIRS) — impacts about 20% of people genetically. Their immune systems can’t properly identify mold toxins and don’t detoxify them naturally. I was one of them.

With few local options, I had to choose: spend $5,000 for a consult with a specialist or invest in learning how to heal myself. I chose the latter. I studied under pioneers in the field — Dr. Ritchie Shoemaker, Dr. Neil Nathan, and Dr. Jill Crista — and slowly began the painstaking process of healing.

I was barely functioning, but I made tiny daily goals — Post-it notes on the mirror with reminders like “Take your binder” or “Run a test.” It was all I could manage, but it was enough to keep going.

The depression lifted first. Then I had the energy to begin detox protocols — binders to remove mold from the gut, sauna to sweat it out, and gentle strategies tailored to my body’s capacity. One critical lesson I learned: in mold detox, slower is safer.

There were moments I didn’t think I would make it. I had plans to give up. But I didn’t even have the energy to act on them. Divine intervention, I believe, kept me alive.

The love for my children and the hope of healing gave me just enough strength to hold on.

And today? I am well. I am strong. I understand this illness from the inside out — not just clinically, but personally. I’ve walked this harrowing road and come out the other side.

To anyone suffering from mold illness or chronic, misunderstood symptoms: I see you. You are not alone. And healing is possible.