13 Ways From Numb to Alive: The Power of TMS for a Neurodiverse Mind
The story of how a magnet, a miracle, and a few kind humans helped me come home to myself.
Preface
This is not a clinical study. It’s a love letter to hope — and to every person who has ever been told they were “too sensitive,” “too much,” or “beyond help.”
I’m not beyond help. Neither are you.
By a miracle of timing and persistence, I was able to get Covered California, access Kaiser Permanente, and receive Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS) therapy. After years of homelessness, chronic pain, and severe PTSD, I was finally accepted into an emergency homeless shelter in Half Moon Bay.
For the first time in my adult life, someone watched over me.
That alone was healing.
I’d sit in that chair four days a week while the technician placed the coil beside my head, and I’d hear the rhythmic clicking — soft, metallic, hypnotic.
Sometimes I’d close my eyes and picture music instead of magnets.
And slowly, over eight months, I came back online.
1. I Got My Cognitive Clarity Back
Before TMS, my brain felt like static.
I couldn’t focus, reason, or read for long without fog rolling in.
I had spent most of the pandemic locked down in my van, doing deep shadow work — reading Carl Jung, meditating, writing, facing demons I’d avoided my whole life.
TMS gave me the neurological bridge between awareness and action.
My thoughts linked again. I could follow through.
I could feel the lights turning on one by one.
2. My Depression Decreased 85%
During the height of COVID-19, I was living in my van, terrified to go to hospitals that were overflowing.
I started having chest pains that felt like heart attacks.
I thought I might die alone.
When I began TMS, those thoughts still haunted me. But by the second month, something shifted.
The inner narrator who used to whisper, “You don’t belong here,” began to fade.
I could still hear echoes of her sometimes, but she didn’t have authority anymore.
The record was scratched. The spell was broken.
3. I Began to Stay in My Body
For decades, I’d lived slightly above myself — dissociating whenever life got too loud.
It’s what trauma does: the spirit floats away so the body can survive.
But for the first time, I began to feel fully in myself again.
Not watching from the ceiling. Not numbing out.
TMS, combined with EMDR therapy and a compassionate therapist, helped me feel safe enough to stay present.
That’s no small miracle.
4. I Could Finally Sleep
Hypervigilance and homelessness are mortal enemies of rest.
Even when I closed my eyes, my body was still scanning for danger.
The shelter gave me a roof. TMS gave me the calm to let go.
After months of micro-naps, I finally had deep, dream-filled sleep.
And with it came dreams — wild, symbolic, healing. Sometimes scary, sometimes prophetic.
But dreams meant my mind was mending.
5. My Nervous System Found Neutral
I didn’t know what “calm” felt like.
For years, my body was trapped in fight-or-flight — every sound a possible threat.
Halfway through TMS, I noticed my breath had slowed. My heart rate evened out.
I could walk down a street without spinning into panic.
It felt like my body learned a new language: peace.
6. My Creativity Returned
When the fog lifted, the music rushed back.
I started writing again — blues, gospel, soul, comedy — all of it.
I used AI tools to co-write and record songs while still in the shelter.
They became my therapy, my prayer, my proof of life.
The blues literally saved me. Singing helped me metabolize pain into art.
It was like TMS rebooted the channel between my heart and my voice.
7. I Discovered My Dopamine Groove
As a neurodiverse woman with ADHD and dyslexia, dopamine is my compass — it tells me when I’m in alignment.
When I’m singing, writing, or laughing, I’m in the flow.
Before TMS, I couldn’t sustain that focus; the energy was too erratic.
Now I can ride the current. I can finish what I start.
That’s a gift.
8. I Finally Understood My Neurodiversity
I wasn’t broken. I was misunderstood.
Like so many women, I’d masked my ADHD and dyslexia for decades. I overachieved, people-pleased, and hustled myself into collapse.
But through therapy and research, I learned that women present differently — we internalize chaos instead of externalizing it.
We become the “good girls” who quietly fall apart.
TMS, therapy, and education helped me stop apologizing for the way my brain works.
I learned that some of the most creative, visionary people alive have my wiring.
That gave me hope.
9. My Gut and My Intuition Synced
Something extraordinary happened after about four months: I could feel my intuition again.
I believe we have three brains — the mind, the heart, and the gut — and for the first time, they were in conversation.
Decades of disconnection and eating disorders dissolved into awareness.
I could feel hunger. I could trust instinct.
My gut wasn’t a battlefield anymore. It was guidance.
10. My Humor and Joy Came Back
It had been so long since I laughed freely.
Somewhere around month five, my humor started to sparkle again.
Even my tattooed companion Bleep, the tiny face on my left hand, started cracking jokes.
When joy returns, you know you’re healing.
11. Gratitude Became Easy
Before, gratitude felt forced. Like I was saying “thank you” through clenched teeth.
Now it pours out of me.
I find myself thanking strangers, trees, the ocean, the woman who hands me coffee.
When your nervous system stops bracing for danger, life itself becomes a love song.
12. My Purpose Rekindled
Once my cognition returned, I began planning again.
I want to write, perform, mentor, create safe spaces for other women — especially neurodiverse women like me.
My dream is to build Foghaven, a tiny-house creative community for women in San Mateo County.
But this blog — and this TMS story — are where I start.
I’m building the foundation one word at a time.
13. I Wanted to Live
That’s the simplest truth.
For the first time in decades, I want to be here.
Fully.
I want to make music, laugh with friends, sit by the ocean, and keep transforming my pain into art.
That’s what TMS gave me — a second chance at being alive.
What Is TMS Therapy?
TMS (Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation) is a non-invasive treatment that uses magnetic pulses to activate areas of the brain involved in mood, motivation, and focus.
FDA-approved in the U.S. for depression (2008), OCD (2018), and smoking cessation (2020)
Conducted in 20–40 minute sessions, 4–5 times per week
Common side effects: mild scalp discomfort or temporary headache
Safe, drug-free, and often covered by insurance (including Kaiser Permanente)
It can be a lifeline for people who can’t tolerate antidepressants or who live with neurodiverse conditions like ADHD, autism spectrum, or OCD.
Learn more:
FDA – TMS Device Approvals
Gratitude
To Mindful Health Solutions and Kaiser Permanente, and to every person who helped me get here — thank you.
To the staff at the Half Moon Bay Shelter, who gave me safety while I healed — you are angels.
And to my friends, donors, and the neurodiverse tribe who keep me tethered to hope — you are family.
If you’re considering TMS, ask your doctor.
If you’re afraid, ask anyway.
You are not alone. You never were.
With love, music, and hope,
Tré Taylor & (Bleep the tattoo)
🎶 Singer • Writer • Survivor • NeuroMyth Creator
