The Toothache of Emotions, the Leg Cramps of the Brain
By Mark L, NeuroStar Patient Advocate
Waco, TX
At 66 years old, it feels nothing short of miraculous to finally live without what I’ve always described as a “massive toothache in my emotions” and a “leg cramp in my brain.” Since I was 18, I’ve carried confusion, anxiety, agitation, and a constant sense that something inside me wasn’t working the way it should. For decades, waking up meant immediately asking God to take me home.
If any of us had a severe toothache or a terrible leg cramp, we’d do anything for relief.
But emotional pain is different. You still have to get out of bed, put your feet on the floor, and take that first step — all while your mind spins so fast, it feels impossible to slow down. You look at others and wonder: How are they confident? How do they understand the world so easily? Why are they laughing, enjoying their lives, going out with friends?
And in those moments, you understand why some people make the unthinkable choice. Because the pain feels endless.
For 45 years, that was my reality. I lived with major depressive disorder (MDD)— relentless, consuming, and resistant to nearly everything I tried. Along the way, I discovered something important, something that only others living in that same emotional cramp truly understand: survival itself is an accomplishment.
I tried countless psychiatrists.
I checked myself into mental hospitals three times because I didn’t trust myself to survive on my own. I took medication after medication — sometimes five different antidepressants at once. I underwent electroconvulsive therapy (ECT). I went to therapy. I prayed. I endured. And still the pain returned, over and over.
And then, at 66, something changed.
“You’re a Perfect Candidate for NeuroStar TMS”
My psychiatrist — who I consider an angel on earth — looked at me one day and said, “You’re a perfect candidate for NeuroStar TMS (transcranial magnetic stimulation). Let’s start this weekend.” I had so many questions. I just met you — is this real? How will I work during treatment? How much will it cost? Why should I try again when so much hasn’t helped?
But I was also exhausted. Exhausted from hurting, exhausted from surviving. So, I agreed.
I had no idea how profoundly it would shift my life.
Within just a few sessions, something in my world woke up. Colors came back first: traffic lights, brake lights, clothing, billboards — all suddenly vivid. It felt like someone had turned the saturation up on life. And halfway through the course of treatment, I felt something I hadn’t felt in decades: myself.
The emotional toothache loosened its grip. The brain cramp eased. The pain lifted.
Now, I wake up excited for the day ahead — something I never thought I’d experience again.
I often ask myself: Why wasn’t this available decades ago? Why did I have to suffer for so long? But I believe the answer is that my story has a purpose. I survived so I could give others hope.
Today, I no longer scream inside. I no longer pray for life to end.
I no longer carry the heavy weight of treatment-resistant depression. And I am forever grateful to NeuroStar TMS treatment which helped me get here — and to the psychiatrist who walked beside me with courage and compassion.
I used to describe my life as the first half of The Wizard of Oz: gray, flat, joyless, all in black and white. Now, it feels like I’ve stepped into the colorful second half — dancing down the yellow brick road with Dorothy and Toto, everything bright and alive.
And best of all? I can finally dance without the cramps.
