Stephanie Foo’s book, “What My Bones Know,” is a deeply resonant and emotionally charged memoir that invites readers into the author’s arduous journey through therapy and towards understanding her diagnosis of complex post-traumatic stress disorder (CPTSD). Unlike PTSD, which often stems from a single traumatic event, CPTSD arises from repeated and prolonged trauma, frequently experienced during childhood. In “What My Bones Know,” Foo bravely recounts her experiences growing up with immigrant parents from Malaysia in America, detailing the profound impact of severe abuse, neglect, and ultimate abandonment she endured.
Foo delves into her family history, seeking to understand the roots of her parents’ behavior and the intergenerational patterns that may have contributed to her suffering. This exploration becomes a crucial part of her self-discovery as she grapples with the lasting effects of her traumatic past. Through relentless effort and introspection, Foo comes to terms with CPTSD as an integral part of her identity. She learns to accept herself, shifting her focus from complete recovery to finding strength and resilience within her condition. While forgiveness for her parents remains elusive, Foo emphasizes the healing power of love and support found in her relationships with friends, her husband, and his family.
A poignant quote from the book encapsulates the pervasive nature of trauma: “No matter what I did, wherever I searched for joy, I found my traumas instead. And it would whisper to me: You’ll be like this forever. It will never change. I will follow you. I will make you miserable forever. Then I will kill you.” This internal struggle highlights the profound impact of CPTSD on one’s sense of self and future.
Foo introduces practical coping mechanisms, such as “grounding,” describing it as a form of mindfulness, “a lighter meditation, a practice of mindfulness, but faster than meditation and focused more on the little things in the world around you.” Grounding is presented as a vital skill for those with trauma, helping to anchor oneself in the present moment and counter dissociation. It’s about “knowing who you are and where you are the time and the year as you are in it, and what is happening around you. It’s anti-dissociation.” This technique offers a tangible tool for managing the overwhelming symptoms of CPTSD.
In a moment of profound realization, Foo reflects on the significance of small joys: “after two weeks of counting things I was grateful for, I grasped that the small things were everything. The small things were what I held onto at the end of the day. One joke that made me snort-laugh. A beautifully arranged bunch of flowers I stared at from a café window. My cat coming to lie on my lap when she saw I was sad.” These seemingly minor moments of joy become anchors of hope and solace, collectively building a life worth living despite the challenges of trauma. Foo suggests that even small actions, like listening to a friend or complimenting a garden, can contribute to a more supportive world for others.
The book also touches upon the fallibility of memory, referencing scientific evidence that memories are constantly being rewritten and altered, especially when recalled or retold. This understanding provides a nuanced perspective on the nature of traumatic memories and their impact. Foo explores her own tendency to overwork and seek external validation, recognizing it as a manifestation of her deep-seated need for acceptance stemming from her trauma. She states, “I take on other people’s work, I do more than I should, because I have this need for approval. I need my manager to tell me I’ve done well, otherwise I feel that anxiety, that inadequacy, that no matter how much effort I put in, I’ll never be enough.”
Foo emphasizes the importance of acknowledging and processing negative emotions. “When something unfair happens, you’re supposed to feel how infuriating it is. Then, after you give that feeling space for the appropriate amount of time, and maybe it’s an hour, or a day, or months, depending on the magnitude of what happened. Then, you can return to baseline or joy or whatever else. Recovery isn’t about not feeling anything. Recovery is about feeling the appropriate feelings at the appropriate times and still being able to return to yourself anyway. That’s life.” She argues that negative emotions serve a purpose, signaling our needs and prompting action. Suppressing these emotions is not only impossible but also unhealthy. “These negative feelings aren’t just something to be endured and erased. They’re purposeful. They’re useful. They tell us what we need. Anger spurs action. Grief is necessary to absorb the pain of loss. Fear keeps us safe.” It is when negative emotions dominate and overshadow all others that they become toxic. True mental health, Foo suggests, lies in finding a balance between positive and negative emotions.
Finally, Foo distinguishes between pain and suffering: “Do you know the difference between pain and suffering? Pain is feeling the legitimate, appropriate, real hurt when something bad happens. Suffering is when you add extra droplets to the pain. You feel bad about feeling bad.” This crucial distinction highlights the self-inflicted suffering that can exacerbate the pain of trauma, encouraging self-compassion and acceptance of one’s emotional experience as part of the healing process. “What My Bones Know” ultimately offers a message of hope and resilience for those navigating the complexities of trauma, emphasizing self-understanding, acceptance, and the power of small joys in the journey toward healing.
