Fifteen years of going through the motions
Michael doesn’t talk about his depression the way you might expect. No dramatic origin story. No single triggering event. It crept in during his late thirties — a slow, relentless dimming of everything that used to matter.
“I’m an engineer. I solve problems. Depression isn’t a problem you can solve with logic. That messed with me more than the depression itself, at first.”
By 45, he’d tried six medications across three different classes. SSRIs made him numb. SNRIs gave him insomnia so severe he was sleeping two hours a night. An atypical antidepressant caused weight gain that compounded his self-image issues. Nothing stuck.
He kept working. Kept showing up to family dinners. From the outside, Michael looked fine — successful electrical engineer at a Dallas aerospace firm, married, two teenage kids. From the inside, running on fumes.
“I told my wife once that I felt like I was watching my life through a window. I could see everything happening, but I couldn’t feel any of it. She still brings that up.”
The conversation that changed things
September 2025. Michael’s wife Linda attended a mental health awareness event at their church. A psychiatrist talked about newer treatment options for depression, including TMS therapy. Linda came home with a brochure and what Michael describes as “terrifying” determination.
“She sat me down and said, ‘You’ve given up. I haven’t.’ I didn’t have an argument for that.”
Michael was skeptical. He’d done his reading. He knew the success rates — roughly 50-60% response for treatment-resistant patients. After fifteen years of failed treatments, even a coin flip felt optimistic.
Linda made the consultation appointment. Michael went because it was easier than arguing.
The consultation that surprised him
The psychiatrist at the Dallas TMS clinic spent forty minutes on his treatment history. Not twenty. She explained exactly how TMS works — magnetic pulses targeting the left dorsolateral prefrontal cortex, the area tied to mood regulation — and she was straight about what it could and couldn’t do.
“She said, ‘This might not work for you. But based on your history, you’re a strong candidate.’ She didn’t oversell it. That’s the only reason I agreed.”
Michael’s insurance through UnitedHealthcare covered TMS after prior authorization. The clinic documented his six failed medication trials. Approval came in ten days.
Thirty-six sessions in the chair
Treatment started October 2025. Standard repetitive TMS using NeuroStar equipment — 36 sessions, five days a week, about seven weeks total (a few missed days in there).
Each session: roughly 37 minutes. Michael sat in what he describes as “a dentist’s chair with a magnet.” The technician positioned the coil against his left temple.
“The clicking is loud. They give you earplugs. The sensation is like someone tapping on your skull with a pencil — fast, rhythmic. Not painful, but not comfortable either. By session ten, I barely noticed it.”
Side effects: scalp tenderness the first week, occasional headaches that responded to over-the-counter pain relievers. He worked full-time throughout, scheduling 7 AM sessions before heading to the office.
The turning point nobody warned him about
Here’s where Michael’s experience was different. His improvement wasn’t gradual. It was sudden.
“Nothing happened for four weeks. Absolutely nothing. I told Linda this was another waste of time. I was ready to quit.”
His psychiatrist encouraged him to complete the full course. Session 28 — a Thursday morning in late November — something shifted.
“I walked out of the clinic and the sky was this incredible blue. And I thought, ‘That’s beautiful.’ I hadn’t thought anything was beautiful in years. I sat in my car in the parking lot and just… looked at the sky.”
Over the next week, changes picked up speed. Michael describes it as someone slowly turning up a dimmer switch that had been stuck at the lowest setting for fifteen years.
He started initiating conversations with his kids instead of just responding when spoken to. He suggested to Linda that they go out to dinner — something she said he hadn’t done spontaneously in years. He found himself actually engaged in a new project at work. Interested. Not just completing tasks.
Where he is now
Michael finished his full course in December 2025. Depression scores dropped from severe (PHQ-9 of 22) to mild (PHQ-9 of 6). Not full remission. But a transformation he never thought possible.
“My psychiatrist calls it a strong response. I call it getting my life back.”
He’s done two rounds of maintenance TMS — brief booster courses of six sessions each — to sustain the improvement. Scores have held steady. He still sees his psychiatrist regularly and takes a low dose of bupropion.
“I’m not the same person I was before depression. Fifteen years changes you. But I’m present now. I’m in the room with my family, not watching through a window.”
His son recently asked him to coach his robotics team. A year ago, Michael would have said he was too busy — his default excuse for not having the energy. Instead, he said yes.
“Linda was right. I had given up. TMS didn’t fix everything, but it gave me enough to start trying again.”
What Michael wants other men to know
- Depression in men often looks like withdrawal, not sadness. Michael never cried or felt sad — he felt empty. That’s still depression.
- “Powering through” is not a treatment plan. He wasted years believing he could think his way out of a brain chemistry problem.
- Treatment-resistant doesn’t mean untreatable. It means the first-line treatments didn’t work. Other options exist.
- TMS fits into a working life. He didn’t miss a single day of work. Morning sessions before the office made it manageable.
- Let someone else make the appointment if you can’t. No shame in needing a push. Linda making that first call was the most important thing anyone has ever done for him.
Names and identifying details have been changed to protect patient privacy. This story is based on composite experiences reported by TMS patients and is presented for educational purposes only. It is not medical advice. Talk to a qualified specialist about whether TMS is right for your situation.
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Fifteen years of going through the motions
Michael doesn’t talk about his depression the way you might expect. No dramatic origin story. No single triggering event. It crept in during his late thirties — a slow, relentless dimming of everything that used to matter.
“I’m an engineer. I solve problems. Depression isn’t a problem you can solve with logic. That messed with me more than the depression itself, at first.”
By 45, he’d tried six medications across three different classes. SSRIs made him numb. SNRIs gave him insomnia so severe he was sleeping two hours a night. An atypical antidepressant caused weight gain that compounded his self-image issues. Nothing stuck.
He kept working. Kept showing up to family dinners. From the outside, Michael looked fine — successful electrical engineer at a Dallas aerospace firm, married, two teenage kids. From the inside, running on fumes.
“I told my wife once that I felt like I was watching my life through a window. I could see everything happening, but I couldn’t feel any of it. She still brings that up.”
The conversation that changed things
September 2025. Michael’s wife Linda attended a mental health awareness event at their church. A psychiatrist talked about newer treatment options for depression, including TMS therapy. Linda came home with a brochure and what Michael describes as “terrifying” determination.
“She sat me down and said, ‘You’ve given up. I haven’t.’ I didn’t have an argument for that.”
Michael was skeptical. He’d done his reading. He knew the success rates — roughly 50-60% response for treatment-resistant patients. After fifteen years of failed treatments, even a coin flip felt optimistic.
Linda made the consultation appointment. Michael went because it was easier than arguing.
The consultation that surprised him
The psychiatrist at the Dallas TMS clinic spent forty minutes on his treatment history. Not twenty. She explained exactly how TMS works — magnetic pulses targeting the left dorsolateral prefrontal cortex, the area tied to mood regulation — and she was straight about what it could and couldn’t do.
“She said, ‘This might not work for you. But based on your history, you’re a strong candidate.’ She didn’t oversell it. That’s the only reason I agreed.”
Michael’s insurance through UnitedHealthcare covered TMS after prior authorization. The clinic documented his six failed medication trials. Approval came in ten days.
Thirty-six sessions in the chair
Treatment started October 2025. Standard repetitive TMS using NeuroStar equipment — 36 sessions, five days a week, about seven weeks total (a few missed days in there).
Each session: roughly 37 minutes. Michael sat in what he describes as “a dentist’s chair with a magnet.” The technician positioned the coil against his left temple.
“The clicking is loud. They give you earplugs. The sensation is like someone tapping on your skull with a pencil — fast, rhythmic. Not painful, but not comfortable either. By session ten, I barely noticed it.”
Side effects: scalp tenderness the first week, occasional headaches that responded to over-the-counter pain relievers. He worked full-time throughout, scheduling 7 AM sessions before heading to the office.
The turning point nobody warned him about
Here’s where Michael’s experience was different. His improvement wasn’t gradual. It was sudden.
“Nothing happened for four weeks. Absolutely nothing. I told Linda this was another waste of time. I was ready to quit.”
His psychiatrist encouraged him to complete the full course. Session 28 — a Thursday morning in late November — something shifted.
“I walked out of the clinic and the sky was this incredible blue. And I thought, ‘That’s beautiful.’ I hadn’t thought anything was beautiful in years. I sat in my car in the parking lot and just… looked at the sky.”
Over the next week, changes picked up speed. Michael describes it as someone slowly turning up a dimmer switch that had been stuck at the lowest setting for fifteen years.
He started initiating conversations with his kids instead of just responding when spoken to. He suggested to Linda that they go out to dinner — something she said he hadn’t done spontaneously in years. He found himself actually engaged in a new project at work. Interested. Not just completing tasks.
Where he is now
Michael finished his full course in December 2025. Depression scores dropped from severe (PHQ-9 of 22) to mild (PHQ-9 of 6). Not full remission. But a transformation he never thought possible.
“My psychiatrist calls it a strong response. I call it getting my life back.”
He’s done two rounds of maintenance TMS — brief booster courses of six sessions each — to sustain the improvement. Scores have held steady. He still sees his psychiatrist regularly and takes a low dose of bupropion.
“I’m not the same person I was before depression. Fifteen years changes you. But I’m present now. I’m in the room with my family, not watching through a window.”
His son recently asked him to coach his robotics team. A year ago, Michael would have said he was too busy — his default excuse for not having the energy. Instead, he said yes.
“Linda was right. I had given up. TMS didn’t fix everything, but it gave me enough to start trying again.”
What Michael wants other men to know
- Depression in men often looks like withdrawal, not sadness. Michael never cried or felt sad — he felt empty. That’s still depression.
- “Powering through” is not a treatment plan. He wasted years believing he could think his way out of a brain chemistry problem.
- Treatment-resistant doesn’t mean untreatable. It means the first-line treatments didn’t work. Other options exist.
- TMS fits into a working life. He didn’t miss a single day of work. Morning sessions before the office made it manageable.
- Let someone else make the appointment if you can’t. No shame in needing a push. Linda making that first call was the most important thing anyone has ever done for him.
Names and identifying details have been changed to protect patient privacy. This story is based on composite experiences reported by TMS patients and is presented for educational purposes only. It is not medical advice. Talk to a qualified specialist about whether TMS is right for your situation.