Reclaiming Your Life After Trauma: Reflections on What My Bones Know

I recently finished What My Bones Know by Stephanie Foo, a memoir that dives into the tangled experience of complex trauma (C-PTSD). Through her candid storytelling, Foo sheds light on the long-term effects of complex trauma—trauma that is not a singular event but an accumulation of repeated and prolonged adversity, often occurring in one’s early developmental stages. Foo’s journey is not just one of survival but one of discovery and self-compassion as she navigates a world that often fails to recognize the full weight of complex trauma.

Complex trauma is distinct from other forms of trauma in that it is made up of both the experience of sustained harm and the adaptations a person makes to survive or cope. Foo’s story speaks to this reality. Throughout her childhood, she endured relentless abuse and neglect, leaving her with emotional wounds that shaped her thoughts, relationships and sense of self in a way that felt ambiguous, confusing, and disorienting. As with many C-PTSD survivors, the diagnostic labels she was given—anxiety, depression, and borderline personality disorder—didn’t seem to capture the full scope of her struggles.

Foo’s journey illustrates a painful but common reality for many survivors of complex trauma: the internalization of blame. When treatment fails, when relationships feel impossible to sustain, when the nervous system seems hijacked by fear, many come to believe that they are the problem. Complex trauma is not simply a list of symptoms, but an entire framework of being shaped by formative wounds.

The Impact of Complex Trauma: Foo’s Story in Context

The research on complex trauma underscores the profound impact it has on a person’s brain development, neurochemistry, physiological stress response, and identity formation. Foo’s struggles with dissociation, hypervigilance, and self-worth are not “failings” but deeply ingrained survival strategies. These strategies and adaptations—whether it’s difficulty trusting others or maintaining a sense of self-doubt—are responses to an environment where safety was never guaranteed.

Foo’s memoir also highlights the structural and societal factors that can contribute to complex trauma. As a woman of color, her experiences are shaped by the intersections of race, gender, and mental health stigma. This aligns with research that shows marginalized communities often face compounded layers of trauma, making healing even more complex.

One of the most striking aspects of What My Bones Know is Foo’s reclamation of her own story. By seeking out expert voices, researching complex PTSD, and advocating for herself within a mental health system that often dismissed her pain, she begins to shift the narrative. This aligns with the core philosophy of complex trauma recovery: moving from self-blame to self-understanding.

Reframing to question “What’s wrong with you?” to “What happened to you?” is critical in both treatment and self-compassion. It acknowledges that the survivor’s experience are not signs of brokenness but evidence of resilience. Foo’s story is a testament to the power of this reframing—how knowledge, community, and self-acceptance can pave the way toward healing, even when the past still lingers in the bones.

What My Bones Know is a reminder that understanding trauma is messy and nonlinear, but within that mess, there is also growth. Foo doesn’t tie everything up with a neat bow, and that’s what makes her story so real and relatable. Healing isn’t about achieving perfection—it’s about creating meaning in the aftermath, finding connection, and learning to make room for both the pain and beauty of life.

For anyone navigating their own history of trauma, feeling unsure of how to move forward after a diagnosis, or struggling to redefine themselves in the wake of change, this book is a deeply affirming read. And if you find yourself in that place, know that you’re not alone. Healing is not a solo endeavor—it’s something we do together, in community, in therapy, and in the quiet moments when we begin to trust ourselves again.