What My Bones Know: A Therapist’s takeaways from Stephanie Foo’s Memoir of Complex PTSD

When Stephanie Foo released What My Bones Know: A Memoir of Healing from Complex Trauma, it felt like a watershed moment in the mental health world. Complex PTSD (CPTSD) is something many therapists recognize and work with every day, but it still isn’t an official diagnosis in the DSM (the diagnostic manual for therapy). That gap can make treatment confusing, frustrating, and at times invalidating for clients. Foo’s memoir brings the struggle of CPTSD to life with honesty and bravery. Below you'll find some of my biggest takeaways from reading this remarkable book, including:

• Reading about a real person's lived experience is vital for reducing stigma

• Finding the right therapist is SO important

• There is no one type of therapy that works for everyone (as much as we might wish there were)

• Especially for memoirs, audiobooks are a gift

• Being a therapist is endlessly humbling

Reading about a real person's lived experience is vital for reducing stigma

CPTSD can feel invisible, especially since it isn’t yet formally recognized in the DSM. Foo invites readers into the rawest corners of her story, including painful accounts of childhood abuse (and yes, a trigger warning is necessary here: her descriptions are graphic and can be difficult to read, even though she does a thoughtful job of giving warnings herself). By sharing her story, Foo humanizes the experience of living with complex trauma, which can often be perceived as mysterious, scary, or (possibly most damaging of all) not real.

Finding the right therapist is SO important

One of the most striking (and also painful) parts of Foo’s memoir is her search for the right therapist. Like many people, she had sessions that felt unhelpful, or worse, harmful. But (spoiler alert) ultimately, she found a therapist who fit her in a way that felt transformative and allowed for her to finally find some healing.

And I'll be so honest with you right now: her therapist said things I could never imagine saying to my own clients. For example, when her trauma responses were leading her thinking, he would sometimes respond by saying, “You’re so stupid.” Reading that as a therapist made me wince. But for Foo, it resonated, possibly because of their shared Asian-American cultural identity, possibly because of the unique relationship they built, or maybe a mix of both.

It’s a reminder that there isn’t one “right” way to do therapy. What matters most is authenticity and fit. Research consistently supports the idea that your relationship with your therapist is one of the top predictors of successful outcomes in therapy (Norcross and Lambert, 2011, 2018; Lambert, 1992), but this book serves as an important reminder that a therapist who wouldn’t work for one client may be the exact person another client needs.

There is no one type of therapy that works for everyone (as much as we might wish there were)

I’ll admit, as a therapist who practices both EMDR and IFS, it was tough to hear Foo describe her less-than-stellar experiences with these approaches. My ego had a moment of “Well, if she’d tried it with me, it might have been different!” But the reality is, not every modality is right for every person. Therapy isn’t one-size-fits-all. Sometimes the modality isn’t a good match, sometimes the timing isn’t right, and sometimes it just doesn’t click. And that’s okay.

Foo’s story is a reminder that the process of healing is personal and individual. What doesn’t work for one person might be life-changing for another.

Especially for memoirs like What My Bones Know, audiobooks are a gift

If you decide to read What My Bones Know, I can’t recommend the audiobook enough. Foo narrates it herself, which adds an extra layer of intimacy and honesty. You feel like she’s sitting across from you, sharing her story directly. Even more striking, she weaves in actual audio clips from her therapy sessions with Dr. Jacob Ham. Hearing those raw, vulnerable moments in her own voice transforms the book from a written account into a living narrative of healing.

Being a therapist is endlessly humbling

Reading Foo’s story reminded me just how much therapy hinges on fit. As a therapist, you can bring in the most evidence-based modality in the world, but if the relationship doesn’t feel right, the work won’t land. That’s why I put so much emphasis on building authentic, collaborative connections in my own practice. And sometimes, as much as it sucks, you just get it wrong.

I believe therapy works best when both client and therapist can show up as their full, imperfect, human selves. While I’d never call a client “stupid” (promise!), I do believe in finding language and approaches that resonate uniquely with each person sitting across from me. Therapy isn’t a script; it’s a relationship.

Foo’s story also underscored why I weave together modalities like EMDR and IFS. They’re powerful tools, but they’re not magic wands. Healing often comes from experimenting, noticing what feels supportive, and letting go of what doesn’t. That trial-and-error process can be deeply empowering, and it helps people begin to trust their own inner wisdom.

Final Thoughts

What My Bones Know is an important book for survivors of trauma, for therapists, and for anyone who wants to better understand the long shadow of CPTSD. It’s brave, vulnerable, and a testament to the power of finding the right therapist and holding onto hope, even when the path feels uncertain.

If you do decide to pick it up, be gentle with yourself. Take breaks when you need to. Remember that it’s okay if a book like this brings up big feelings - it means you’re human.

And if Foo’s journey leaves you curious about what therapy could look like for you, I’d love to connect. I offer free 15-minute consultations to help you get a sense of whether working together might feel like the right fit.