By Sumaya Abuhaidar
Sumaya Abuhaidar is a spiritual adventurer, writer and artist who finds inspiration in the wilds of Colorado’s mountains. Recently recovered from devastating chronic illness, she shares her story and insights on Substack through prose, poetry and art.
Four years ago, I could barely get out of bed. I was so chronically exhausted that I couldn’t walk more than thirty or forty feet or take a shower without having to lie down the rest of the day. My neck hurt so much that I couldn’t turn my head in any direction, couldn’t lift a pot of water to put on the stove, or turn the sticky doorknob on our back door.
Worst of all, I was so noise sensitive that I couldn’t even be around the sound of another person’s voice. Even my husband’s or my children’s voices. And I had been in that agonizing state for the better part of two years.
I spent so much time in bed staring at the ceiling that I named all the knots in the wood paneling. They were often my only company for hours at a time, hovering above me in the silence and loneliness. The strangest part of the story is that there was nothing technically wrong with me, or at least nothing that showed up on any test or imaging.
It all started on Jan. 2, 2020. I was out feeding my horses on a cold, clear winter morning in Crested Butte, where I lived with my husband and two boys. It was the kind of winter morning I love with all my heart — crisp, cold and blanketed in fresh snow. Suddenly, the early-morning silence was broken by the unexpected revving of a snowmobile at a nearby ranch. All four of my horses spooked as one. And I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The horse closest to me spun toward me, collided with the left side of my face, and sent me flying into a snowbank, my nose spurting bright red blood on the pristine white snow.
The accident left me with a concussion. That’s all, just a concussion. I had recovered from five previous ones, so I knew just what to do, and I didn’t think it was a big deal. But unlike previous times, this one became the biggest of deals. Because, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t recover. I did all the right things and saw all the right practitioners. But I just kept getting worse.
By early March of 2020, I was still a hot mess. Then COVID hit. Many people don’t know that the Gunnison Valley was an early COVID hotspot, right behind Seattle and New York. Almost everyone in town got it, including me. Within a few weeks, my concussion symptoms skyrocketed and, seemingly out of the blue, I developed new debilitating symptoms like extreme insomnia, neck pain and severe GI distress. My sensitivity went from extreme to excruciating. The slightest sound made me recoil and wince in pain. I spiraled further and further downward in the months that followed until I could barely move, barely walk, barely talk. I became unrecognizable to myself, unrecognizable to my family, my friends.
For the next two years, I tried every conceivable drug and treatment, including three rounds of painful injections in my neck. And I saw some of the best physicians in the country. But nothing worked. Which is why, by May of 2022, I hit rock bottom. I was desperate and deeply depressed. I thought I was sentenced to a life of pain, immobility and isolation.
But, thank God, I was wrong. I got lucky and stumbled on a nugget of information that sent me on a surprising course to recovery. I was visiting with a good friend, sitting on a picnic blanket outside my house, enjoying a precious respite from my isolation. In the few minutes of conversation I could tolerate, my friend shared that she had been listening to a podcast about chronic pain and chronic symptoms and how they can be caused by the brain and nervous system rather than by anything structurally wrong with the body. And more importantly, that there’s a way to rewire the brain and resolve symptoms, even severe ones. Even ones that have been happening for years or decades.
A lightbulb went off. I somehow knew, without knowing any details yet, that this explained everything, that this was the direction I needed to look to find my way back to health.
And I was right. Over the next four years, with the help of apps, books, podcasts, online programs, coaches and therapists, I threw myself, heart and soul, into brain and nervous system rewiring.
It was a long, slow, hard process. But it was also a grand adventure that took me on a fascinating journey through the neuroscience of pain, the inner workings of our nervous systems, and even self-discovery work and trauma healing. It led me to a regular Qigong and meditation practice and to a new understanding of just how important creativity and joy are for nervous system health. I learned to paint and started dancing to express my emotions and invite joy back into my body. One small step at a time, I reclaimed my health and my life. Not my old life in Crested Butte, but a new one here in Carbondale.
My husband and I moved here two years ago, looking for lower altitude, gentler winters and better access to medical care. And we really love it here. I can once again ski and run and hike, but I also have new loves like dancing, art, writing and gardening. And I share my story whenever I can so that maybe, just maybe, a little nugget of information might reach someone at the right time and change their life trajectory, just as my friend changed mine that day four years ago, sitting out on a picnic blanket under my beloved Colorado blue sky.