Dr. Jay Forrest

Meditation begins with a stable, comfortable posture. Sit on a chair or on the floor with your back straight, hands resting in your lap, and your eyes gently closed. If sitting is difficult, lying down on a firm surface is acceptable, though it may make sleep more likely.

Next, relax. Do not force anything. Begin with just 5 or 10 minutes a day, and treat wandering thoughts with patience rather than frustration. Relaxation is the starting point for mindfulness.

Then focus on the breath. Notice the breath at the nostrils or the rise and fall of the abdomen. You can silently note “in” and “out,” or “rising” and “falling.” When the mind drifts, gently note “thinking” or “feeling,” then return to the breath.

The key is simple: observe without chasing, resisting, or judging. You are learning to watch the mind clearly, like a scientist observing an experiment. With practice, this becomes the foundation for deeper meditation and insight.

One of the things many people don’t understand is that waiting around to get motivated never works. Motivation happens in the doing, not in the planning.

Once we understand that motivation follows action, we see that the moment we start doing something, we become more inclined to continue it. A body in motion stays in motion.

The real difficulty lies in beginning. It’s hard to start an action, but much easier to continue once it has begun. I once heard a simple trick for getting started.

It may not make much sense and might even seem silly, but I’ve tried it and it works. When you’re about to do something and don’t feel motivated, begin a countdown: five, four, three, two, one—blast off. The moment you say “blast off,” get up and act.

We are told that people suffer from low self-esteem, that they secretly hate themselves. This doctrine sounds compassionate, but it is rarely examined.

Consider what is actually happening. A person fails and feels shame, frustration, even disgust. This is labeled “self-hatred.” But if someone truly hated themselves, failure would not wound them—it would satisfy them. They would celebrate the downfall of their hated enemy, not mourn it. The pain reveals something else entirely: pride. What is wounded is not the self, but the exalted image of the self.

So-called self-hatred is better understood as injured self-love. It is the collapse of an inflated self-concept—the sense that “I am better than this,” “I should be more than this,” “I am someone.” When reality contradicts that image, the result is not hatred, but humiliation.

What is required is not more self-love, but less self-concern. To “forget oneself” does not mean neglect or indifference. It means releasing the demand to be exceptional, coherent, and admirable. It means seeing clearly: this organism is conditioned, limited, and inconsistent. It will fail. It will fall short. Where self-esteem seeks to elevate the self, self-acceptance dissolves the need to.

Albert Ellis created a simple three-part model that explains how our reactions to events are not caused by the events themselves, but by how we interpret them.

A stands for the activating event. This is anything that happens—that might trigger a reaction, such as an external event, a situation you anticipate, or an internal event like a memory.

B stands for your beliefs about the event, your interpretation or judgment. Someone yells at you, and you think “He must be angry with me.” Your deeper assumption is that “If someone is angry with me, it means I’m worthless.” You might also believe that “I must always be respected.”

Belief is the crucial link. Your beliefs are making you sick. It is not events that cause emotional problems but your beliefs that cause them.

C stands for the consequences: your emotions, behaviors, and bodily responses. Your beliefs generate sadness, anxiety, anger, or guilt; prompt withdrawing, arguing, drinking, and avoiding; and produce stomach knots, tension, and rapid breathing.

Since your beliefs are the problem, the solution is to challenge them and bring them back in line with reality. You remain disturbed because you keep holding rigid, irrational beliefs. You must work to change those beliefs into more rational, flexible ones.

You can’t live on this planet very long without becoming a victim of someone’s abuse. It’s inevitable. The danger comes when you begin to play the victim.

Playing the victim allows you to gain sympathy. Poor you—you went through this or that. People feel sorry for you. You tell them your woes and your hurts, and you begin to feed off their sympathy.

What you may not see is that playing the victim makes you powerless. When you identify only as a victim, you give up your ability to take responsibility. Yet even a victim has a responsibility: the ability to respond. How you respond is a choice, and you are responsible for that choice.

It is those who take responsibility for their lives, even when they have been hurt or harmed by others, who have the power to change. You may not be able to stop others from hurting you, but you can learn to respond with wisdom and compassion. That is where your power lies. Do not exchange it for a pity party.

Forgiveness is a key that unlocks the prison you’re in. When you hold onto unforgiveness, the person who harmed you lives in your head, governs your reactions, and dominates your thinking. In that sense, you remain bound to the offender.

Unforgiveness allows the person to keep hurting you. It is like a sliver that burrows deeper over time. The more you dwell on the harm done, the worse you feel. It becomes a form of self-inflicted harm. By replaying the hurt, you deepen your own suffering.

The power of forgiveness is that it can set you free. It frees the mind and heart. To forgive does not mean to forget the offense; it means to release it. You no longer hold it against the person, and it no longer holds you.

Forgiveness is about your freedom. It does not mean what was done was right. It means you are larger than the wrong done to you. You let go of the offense, but you do not automatically restore trust. Forgiveness is a gift; trust is something that must be earned.