TMS and the Gaslighting That Prevents Real Healing
- jordanswellness
- Jun 28
- 12 min read
Updated: Jul 23
Two years ago on June 28, at exactly 3:00 PM, I sat in a psychiatric office, full of trust and hope, ready to begin Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS). I had no idea that moment would mark the beginning of the most difficult chapter of my life. Today, I’m sharing this post at the exact time of my first session because I’m done being silent.
Months ago, I published a post about my healing journey highlighting the tools and therapies that have helped me cope. But that post didn’t tell the whole story. It didn’t fully confront the gaslighting and the systemic neglect I’ve faced and not just from TMS practitioners but from the entire ecosystem that allowed this to happen.
So on this anniversary, I’m breaking the silence for myself, and for others who’ve been harmed, dismissed, and told to “push through.” We deserve the truth. And we deserve to be heard.
Because silence protects them, not us. And I’m done being silent.
Disclaimer: This post reflects my personal experience with TMS and the medical care I received. Names and identifying information have been altered for privacy. I do not claim to speak for everyone, nor do I offer medical advice. I hold no financial interests in TMS-related products or services. Please consult a healthcare professional for any medical decisions.
TMS is often promoted as a safe solution for depression. It is marketed as minimally invasive, free of systemic side effects, with a glowing success rate of 83% success. That’s what I was told. That’s what I believed.
Instead it broke me.
At the time, I wasn’t in crisis. I was training for a marathon. I was happy, healthy, and hopeful. I remember bouncing into the clinic on day one with my favorite running shorts and bright shoes, smiling and cracking jokes. I sought TMS not out of desperation, but as a preventive step hoping it might help me avoid future episodes of anxiety or depression. My talk therapist had noted a cyclical nature of my mood and recommended a psychiatrist, but I never thought that it would lead me down the path towards a brain injury.
When I first started blogging my experience with TMS, I often claimed that I felt hopeful and excited to heal my mental health and what I really meant by that was that I hoped TMS would help me avoid having mental health setbacks. I mean, I was training for a marathon when I began TMS and I walked into the office happy and carefree. I was not in a debilitating point in my life or health. I was hoping TMS could prevent those moments of struggles that I had experienced before in my life. I was not struggling so severely that it was difficult to get through my day-to-day.
So what got me to try it?
After two years of healing, I can look back and reflect on the meeting I had before the psychiatrist recommended TMS. It is not much to remember as I only had one intake meeting before I was told I should do TMS.
The psychiatrist told me that unresolved trauma would make me a poor mother and person, and that TMS was my last hope. This framing given my mild clinical scores, no med history, and absence of acute distress deviated sharply from standard diagnostic protocol and pressured me into a high-risk treatment with inadequate screening. So, I trusted the professionals who told me it was my “last chance” to become a better person and mother. I trusted the glossy brochure promising “zero systemic side effects.” Not once did the informed consent process mention neurological disruption, vision changes, speech impairment, or risk of long-term sensory or cognitive dysfunction. I was told only to expect mild scalp discomfort or a headache and nothing more.
But within seconds of my first session, I knew something was wrong. The pain was sharp, immediate like a hammer striking my skull. I burst into tears as I left. I sat and stared at a wall drooling. My speech was thick and slurred. I lost my balance and dropped things every time I attempted to put something down on a table. The staff brushed it off, adjusted the settings, handed me a silk cap and told me to continue. At no point did the psychiatrist personally evaluate me after these reactions. All decisions to continue were made by non-medical technicians who did not document or escalate my symptoms.
Session two left me bedridden.
Session three left me feeling fooled.
I want to be clear: My neurological symptoms began within seconds of the first session and never fully resolved. The injury evolved, but it never went away. That’s not a side effect. That’s trauma to the brain.
"You're Too Sensitive."
"Push Through It."
"That’s Just the Treatment Working."
That’s what I was read from practitioners, by online forums, by others in the TMS community. People are told the agony is a sign the treatment was helping. That it would pass.
And for me, it didn’t.
Instead, I lost the ability to finish the marathon I trained for. I had to cancel a trip to see family across the country. These were life anchors and plans that truly meant everything to me and in the first few seconds of TMS, were taken away. Their absence made the damage undeniable. Still, I almost believed the voices telling me to ignore the warning signs. I almost kept going. Almost.
A System That Doesn’t Want to Hear the Truth
After stopping TMS, I searched desperately for answers. I told doctors what had happened. I expected concern, support, investigation.
What I got instead were chuckles. Eye rolls. Shrugs.
In my primary care office, I was nicknamed “headache girl.” Never mind the cognitive dysfunction, vision problems, vestibular issues, or emotional pain. My symptoms were flattened into a comic I imagine with big eyes and a wrap around their head.
I reached out to NeuroStar, the manufacturer of the device used on me. I asked my psychiatrist’s office to file a report. Unfortunately, not only did the office misrepresent my case when submitting the report to NeuroStar, but when I tried to submit corrections to ensure the details were accurate, I was left with no reassurance that these changes had been made. I was simply told they were forwarded. I continued to wait for any response or action on my case, but after a month of silence, I followed up with my psychiatrist.
Eventually, my psychiatrist replied: “We spoke to the medical team. They weren’t aware of your kind of symptoms. They usually just see headaches, which go away with time.”
This failure to report my injury accurately and lack of knowledge if they corrected the record means my harm was never formally investigated or tracked. This is not just a personal failing. It's a gap in medical accountability that endangers other patients.
What followed was a frustrating pattern of dismissal and deflection. I did everything I could to ensure the harm I experienced was documented accurately — not just for myself, but for patient safety and accountability. Yet every attempt to correct the record was met with vague replies, silence, or subtle efforts to shift blame.
When I asked about a peer-to-peer review with a neurologist, I was told it wasn’t necessary.
I had already submitted MRI, MRA, and CT results which were all clear, though the MRA to this day still confuses me since they were unable to locate large blood vessels on the left side of my neck and noted the blood vessels were abnormally tiny. The doctor who reviewed my scans chalked it up to a congenital issue. Still, I was told maybe I had a pre-existing condition. Anything to avoid naming what this was: an injury caused by TMS.
The responses I received from the psychiatrist was incredibly disheartening. Not only did these responses dismiss my very real symptoms, but it also suggested that the medical professionals involved didn’t feel the need to explore my case further because it didn’t fit the “typical” side effects they were familiar with. To be told that my injury wasn’t even worth investigating further, and that a peer review (a review with the neurologist) wasn’t considered necessary, was a crushing blow.
The lack of urgency or acknowledgment made it clear that my injury was not a priority, and it compounded the isolation I already felt as I struggled to navigate the immense physical and emotional pain I was experiencing. The complete lack of action on their part only reinforced the feeling that those of us who suffer the most from TMS are too often ignored and left to fight for our voices to be heard.
This isn’t just dismissal. It is gaslighting.
Online Silencing and a Culture of Blame
The invalidation didn’t stop with medical professionals. In online spaces, I have encountered waves of dismissal for others exploring similar symptoms to mine: “You’re not doing it right.” “Give it more time.” “That’s just your anxiety.” This isn’t just a personal issue. This is a systemic problem within the TMS community.
As I tried to share my experience in online spaces, hoping to find others who might have gone through something similar, I was met with resistance and disbelief. One of the most shocking things I encountered was the gaslighting that came from the TMS community. People who supported TMS, including some practitioners and others involved in the field, would pressure those experiencing adverse effects to "push through" the pain, insisting that the treatment was "working" and that these side effects would eventually pass and called it "the dip."
The truth is, while TMS has worked for some individuals, it doesn’t work for everyone. And when the negative experiences are dismissed or pushed under the rug, it becomes even harder for those of us who are suffering to find the support and healing we need. Not only does this prevent those who are injured from receiving the proper care and healing they need, but it also perpetuates the myth that TMS is universally safe and effective for everyone. And we are left navigating a medical environment that values conformity over individual care, and the consequences of that are real and painful.
Too often, when people speak up about harm from TMS, they’re told they're outliers — or worse, that their pain is an inconvenience to the narrative. One Reddit post dismissed people sharing negative experiences with the line: “Most people for whom TMS worked great are not on Reddit.” The implication? That if you’re struggling, it must be you — not the treatment.
I responded directly, and you can see the exchange below.
People even told others that nausea from TMS was “just demons leaving the body.”
This isn’t healing. This is harm disguised as hope. This advice wasn’t just discouraging, it was harmful. When you’re suffering and your reality is constantly questioned, it only deepens the isolation.
The TMS community leaves no room for complexity. If you don’t fit the success story, you’re told you’re broken, defective, or the problem. If you share your negative experience, people instantly jump into to comment that you are just a "rare case" and that by speaking out you are causing people with high anxiety and depression from seeking treatment that could help them.
This wasn’t a stranger. This was a psychiatrist likely one aware of my story writing in a public forum that the harm I’ve experienced is part of a personal branding effort. This is the kind of subtle gaslighting that happens when patients advocate for awareness: their motivation is questioned, their credibility is softened, and their injuries are conveniently blamed on “underlying conditions” to preserve the image of the treatment. What this comment doesn’t do is ask, What if these injuries are real? What if they aren’t rare?
Because asking that would mean accepting the possibility that something is wrong — not with me, but with the system.
But is not sharing the negative side effects of TMS also harmful? If we do not speak up, we are willingly letting others walk into this treatment with false hope and misunderstanding of the signs of a brain injury or other neurological issues.
We are also allowing the other comments flood the narrative that you should just push through the dip and those adverse symptoms you are experiencing are worth the end results. But, unfortunately, I have read of several cases of individuals taking their lives as a result of the trauma that the endured due to TMS. It's sad and it should stop.
People are shamed into continuing treatment even when it could be causing harm. And when they ask about the harm, they are left with no conclusion except to keep going and it will pass but it could be during a time that their nervous system is begging to be listened to.
People are also walking into clinics and sitting in the TMS chair without fully knowing the risks. This is not informed consent.
When I tried to share my story on a mental health subreddit, I was told I was fearmongering. I was told that informed consent was a doctor’s job — as if patients don’t have the right to raise concerns or protect one another. But if doctors aren’t giving patients the full picture, and platforms silence those who try to fill in the gaps, then where does that leave people who are trying to make an informed choice?
This isn’t about spreading fear. It’s about offering truth — the kind of truth that could prevent suffering, validate those already harmed, and create space for people to ask real questions without being shamed into silence.
If there is one takeaway from my experience, it’s this: no one should feel pressured to push through pain in the name of healing. Whether it’s from TMS, or any other treatment, we all deserve to have our experiences acknowledged and respected. The first step toward true healing is the ability to speak openly about what’s working and what’s not without fear of being silenced or gaslit.
While everyone is allowed to discuss their successes, most who comment rely on the fact that TMS is successful because there is real, extensive clinical data to draw on the success and that's not the case. It shouldn't be the case, but it is.
The Truth About FDA Approval and Why This Matters
One reason TMS harms are often ignored is because of how these devices were cleared for use.
Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS) did not enter the market through the rigorous Class III FDA approval process required for high-risk, brain-intervening devices. Instead, it was granted access via a regulatory shortcut called 510(k) clearance, a pathway that allows a new devices to be marketed if it’s deemed “substantially equivalent” to a device already on the market.
The problem?
The first TMS device to receive clearance was by Neuronetics’ NeuroStar system that claimed equivalence to cranial electrical stimulators (CES) and peripheral nerve/muscle stimulators. These devices may affect the nervous system in mild ways, but they do not stimulate the brain cortex directly like TMS does. In other words, TMS was compared to devices far less invasive and with a very different mechanism of action.
There were also attempts to argue similarity to ECT, but TMS is not classified the same way. ECT is a Class III device requiring formal approval due to its level of risk. TMS sidestepped that by riding the coattails of far less invasive stimulators.
This misclassification meant TMS avoided the extensive safety and efficacy trials that brain-intervention devices should undergo. And yet today, it’s used to stimulate the prefrontal cortex, a region of the brain deeply tied to mood, cognition, and personality.
Here’s why that distinction matters:
FDA-cleared means a device was allowed on the market based on similarity to a pre-existing device, not that it’s been independently proven safe or effective.
FDA-approved, on the other hand, means it passed thorough clinical trials demonstrating clear benefits that outweigh risks.
Unfortunately, the term “FDA-cleared” is often misrepresented in marketing, giving patients and even clinicians the false impression that TMS has been held to the highest regulatory standards. But for a device that directly stimulates the brain, this regulatory gap has serious consequences, especially for those harmed.
This is not a minor oversight. It’s a dangerous regulatory failure.
We Deserve Better
TMS is not universally safe. And when injury happens, it needs to be taken seriously.
We deserve:
Real informed consent
Full transparency about risks
A path to report and investigate injuries
Spaces where harm is not silenced, minimized, or erased
I’m now working with others to change this system through public storytelling, a growing injury survey, a documentary in progress, and direct advocacy. The system must change. And that starts by listening to the voices it has tried to silence.
What I Know Now: Key Takeaways from 2 Years of TMS Injury
Informed consent was incomplete. I was never told about cognitive, visual, or neurological risks.
Symptoms were immediate and persistent. They were not transient or typical side effects.
Reporting systems failed. My case was misrepresented, and follow-ups were ignored.
Dismissal was systemic. From my psychiatrist to online communities, harm was minimized or denied.
TMS uses a flawed regulatory pathway. The 510(k) clearance allowed a brain-stimulating device on the market without proper safety trials.
Many others are suffering. I’ve now connected with dozens of people reporting similar long-term injury — but few are believed.
We need reform. Including Class III reclassification, better screening, improved injury tracking, and real informed consent.
To Those Still Struggling:
If you’ve been harmed, you are not alone.
If you’re being told to ignore your body, you are not wrong to listen to it.
If you’re dismissed, gaslit, or mocked—you still deserve to be heard.
I see you. I believe you. And I’m standing with you.
We are more than symptoms. We are more than side effects.
We are survivors—and we’re not going anywhere.
Healing should be rooted in understanding, respect, and support, and it’s vital that those harmed by TMS are given the opportunity to share their stories without the burden of invalidation. We deserve a chance to heal fully, with our voices heard and our struggles acknowledged. That includes protecting future patients through real informed consent, something I’ve been working toward through a TMS injury survey and active public storytelling on Reddit and YouTube.
Stay strong, and keep advocating for your health. You're not alone in this journey. 💪🌱
All my light. All my love.
Namaste.
Jordan
My Gear:
Legal Disclaimer
This post reflects my personal experience and opinion. It is not intended as medical advice. Names and identifying information have been changed. I hold no financial interest in TMS-related products or companies.
Comments