What Neurorehab Taught Me About Letting Go

(and Surviving the Existential Trauma of Southern California Freeways)

By R.J. Rossi

I’m not a scientist. Let’s get that out of the way.

I write and teach on the topic of forgiveness. I’m also a pilgrim on a path of redemption—just trying to make life a little less angsty for myself and everyone else.

So when the Metta Center for Nonviolence asked me to write about the science of forgiveness, I nearly spit out my Venti Vanilla Bean Moonbeam Frappuccino laughing. Who, me? I thought. Do you know how many times I flunked high school biology?

I’ve never researched forgiveness with an electron microscope or a billion-dollar atom smasher in Switzerland. I’ve butted up against it the hard-headed way—skinning my knees, grieving, seething in blame, wallowing in self-pity—then crying out with a million desperate prayers for a better way.

But we live in a wowie-zowie white-coats-and-goggles world, where we’ve been trained to worship a cold Dragnet-style interrogation of the mysteries around us—“Just the facts, ma’am.”

So you want to know the facts?

Our grievances are killing us—individually, through the disastrous effects of bitterness on our biology; interpersonally, in the strain it places on our relationships; and finally, collectively, in the cold-war-like political crossfires and international bloodbaths born from unhealed hearts and unmet needs.

What I’ve learned is this: we can’t get very far without forgiveness.

Hebb and the Art of Neurocycle Maintenance

For the past three years, I’ve been working in the neurorehabilitation space—coordinating treatment side by side with neuropsychologists, physiatrists, clinical teams, and most importantly, our patients living through traumatic brain injuries.

I’ve seen lives restored. I’ve seen miracles. And those miracles were born from one thing: the brain’s ability to remap itself.

Whether it’s someone learning how to walk again, speak again, or regulate their emotions after a steel pipe shattered their skull and pierced their frontal lobe—one fact keeps emerging: change is possible.

But it takes time. It takes practice.

In neuroscience, Hebb’s Law says, “neurons that fire together wire together,” meaning when two neurons activate simultaneously, their connection strengthens.

This is neuroplasticity: the brain’s ability to rewire itself through repeated experience. Think: “Use it or lose it.” “Practice makes perfect.” (Turns out my Nonna was teaching neuroscience.)

Hebb’s Law doesn’t just apply to speech and movement. It applies to nearly everything we rehearse—including the story of our personal hells.

Here’s the deal: bemoaning your endless list of resentments—justified or not—creates a negative feedback loop and a firewall against inner peace.

The antidote? Choosing forgiveness. It rewires the brain, coactivating your executive control and empathy circuits.

In my book Broken Places, I outline the process of forgiveness as a hero’s journey. The path is zig-zaggy, not a straight throughline—more “Flight of the Bumblebee” than the doomstomp of Darth Vader’s “Imperial March.”

But I’ve often wondered if I could distill an entire book into some down-and-dirty, step-by-step practice—like the basic rules of shoe tying.

Here goes nothing…

My Three-Step Forgiveness Formula

1. Feel the Hurt—Then Own Your Response.

This is the raw zone. The betrayal. The loss. The offense. And then… the long, dark days of rumination—from 30 minutes to 30 days to 30 years or more.

This is your roid-raging Tasmanian Devil brain—your amygdala—overriding your prefrontal cortex. And your common sense. This is hell.

One thing’s for sure: humans are experts at holding on to hurt.

But feel it we must. Admit it. Rage. Cry. Talk it out. Seek help. Write it down. Make space for the pain.

Then pull on your big-kid pants and own this: we may not be the perpetrator, but we are still the interpreter—the ones responsible for shaping the stories we live by.

2. Start Small. Be Willing.

You don’t run a full marathon on day one. You train for a 5K.

So start with the smaller slights. Like the jerk who cuts you off on the freeway.

Here’s the key: you must be willing to admit there’s another way of seeing.

More than likely, that reckless driver is your typical frazzled, overworked cog in the machine just trying to get from point A to point B without another write-up for being late—not some Supervillain Speed Racer sent to sabotage your one-man Beyoncé traffic-tribute tour.

Reframing softens the whole scene.

Or maybe you take a breath to regulate your nervous system—box breathing, diaphragmatic, 4-7-8.

Or offer a blessing instead of a curse.

Or—when all else fails—pray:

God, I don’t want to be in pain. Please help me see this differently.

What you’re doing is downshifting from the raw existential hysteria—stay with me here—of heightened anterior insula activity to the zen-like regulation of heightened anterior cingulate cortex activity.

Big words.

Translation: from the fight or flight response to the relaxation response. From fear to freedom.

As you build the habit on the daily microcuts, you’ll be better prepared for the big baddies—the shadow figures in the world. Or, worse, the ones lurking in the back alleys of your mind.

3. Wash, Rinse, Repeat.

Nothing fancy here. Just back to step one. Ad nauseam.

In the New Testament, Peter asked Jesus, “Lord, if my brother keeps sinning against me, how many times do I forgive him? Seven times?”

Jesus replied, “No, not seven times, but seventy times seven.”

“Seventy times seven.”

Obviously, that’s not a literal tally sheet.

Though let’s be honest: practicing forgiveness 490 times per person would definitely put us on the path to mastery!

Jesus, like my Nonna, was preaching neuroscience way before the white coats showed up. He was talking about putting your reps in.

The habit is the healing.

Researchers use the terms state forgiveness (situation-contingent) and trait forgiveness (a constant attitude of release).

What we want to cultivate is trait forgiveness—a mindset of continual letting go—built through the repeated practice of state forgiveness.

Habit Stacking for the Soul

The trick is this: start where you are.

This is not a new idea, but like with push-ups, we get better through repetition—stacking reps over time.

We can’t stay stuck in our heads masterminding the perfect workout plan with no first steps. That just keeps us out of shape. (Though I protest here: pear shape is a shape!)

In the beginning, our triceps hang like saggy pizza dough, so we start with wall push-ups, then on to knee push-ups, then—hallelujah!—one glorious traditional push-up, and so on…

And so it is with forgiveness, as well.

Day in and day out, we just keep moving forward—reframing, breathing, blessing, praying.

Wobbly. Insecure. Falling down. Getting back up.

This is you—brain mapping. Etching new grooves of emotional freedom.

And the payoff? You feel better, smile more, and see life through a gentler lens. What a relief.

This is the science of surrender. The art of inner peace. And, yes—even the discipline of not popping your top on the fun-filled 405.

So, no—I’m not a scientist. But I’ve learned a little something about showing up and putting in the work.

And if you stick with it?

You’ve got nothing to lose—except maybe your misery.

—-

Author’s Note: 

Special thanks to my Vulcan friend and colleague, Blake Erban, for his beautiful brain, logic lens, and for letting me know when I was stretching Hebb’s Law like Silly Putty.

About the Author:

R.J. De Rossi writes, teaches, and occasionally resists rush-hour traffic tantrums. Author of Broken Places and accidental neuroscientist. Still believes in miracles. Find out more at www.rjderossi.com.