Books like Unbroken

What touched me most about this book is the understanding that our experiences shape us differently depending on when they happen in our lives. Wounds that occur at different ages can create very different patterns in how we think, react, and move through the world.

The book also invites a deeper level of compassion—not only for ourselves, but for others. Instead of asking, "What's wrong with you?" it encourages us to ask, "What happened to you?" That simple shift can completely change how we view another person's behavior and reminds us that everyone is carrying a story we may not see.

I found Christie Tate’s memoir alive with the honest frustration that she felt about how she was feeling despite her success. It made her so relatable, knowing I’ve been in similar mental spaces many times. It was reassuring to be reminded that I am not alone.

When Christie realized she was using her seemingly successful life to cover up and avoid fantasies about dying, I wanted to tell her me too, friend me too. While the group therapy sessions Christie invites us into are unorthodox, she crafts a convincing narrative about their value. One that made space for me to examine my own experiences in therapy with similar honesty.  

I feel less like the hard parts of my life and my story are too horrible to share, thanks to Catherine Gildiner’s powerful stories of her clients’ intense traumas. If therapists can help clients like Gildiner’s recover then there is hope for me too.

I love that she offers readers a “fly on the wall” perspective into the revelations and insights that come to light in a therapist’s office. In doing so, she opened a space for me to consider the ways I may relate to some of the clients’ experiences but, more importantly, the therapeutic advice Gildiner provides.

I saw myself in this book in ways I didn’t expect.

Stephanie Foo’s story of complex trauma, the gaslighting she endured, and her drive to overachieve just to feel worthy hit close to home. Like her, I turned to spiritual practices seeking peace, and like her, I often felt alone in that process.

This book reminded me that my thoughts and feelings are not only valid, but worthy of compassion. The therapy sessions toward the end were especially powerful. I felt like her therapist was speaking directly to me, and something in me softened.

If you're breaking intergenerational patterns, this book offers deep healing, insight, and a sense of being profoundly understood.

This is an outstanding book on healing from trauma, and I've read literally hundreds. This book transformed the way I practice psychotherapy; it transformed the way I understand what trauma does to the mind and body, and it transformed my relationship with myself. Fisher gets right to the heart of what brings most people into psychotherapy: self-alienation. Lots of people say, "I'm beating myself up," casually, without realizing the price they are paying for how habitually critical, punitive, discouraging, and condemning they are toward themselves!

Most people have compassion for others, but can't imagine how they could use that compassion internally. Internal compassion is what heals trauma, and this book, like no other I know, lays out, with depth and complexity, how to get there. 

Starting out with a dramatic account of his own trauma and recovery from a car accident, Levine quickly drew me into the fascinating realm of somatic experiencing, an exciting new paradigm for healing. Even though I have never gone through such a physical trauma myself, I could see many parallels to my own experience in Levine’s description of how past trauma gets blocked and stored in the body when our natural pattern of releasing stored-up defense energy can’t complete.

The very idea has helped me to solve some of the riddles of my own most puzzling behavior and find a new, more peaceful and satisfying way of coping with challenging situations.

This book reveals how the body stores emotional and traumatic memories long after the mind tries to forget them.

Van der Kolk explains why symptoms like anxiety, emotional numbness, anger, or disconnection can surface years later.

Many men who “push through” or never talk about their trauma find clarity in this book’s explanation of how stress affects the brain and nervous system. It helps readers understand themselves physically and emotionally, while giving hope that healing is possible through therapy, mindfulness, and self-awareness.

This book helped me relive one of the bright spots of the pandemic lockdowns of 2020, when author Stephanie Lucianovic chronicled her son’s Zoom classroom spiraling into chaos when the teacher was disconnected from the class.

That fun and messy narrative unfolded in a Twitter thread known as #ZoomOfTheFlies. Imagine my delight when I saw that real-life event woven into Lucianovic’s novel. 

In this engaging novel in verse, I identified with Archie as he navigated through the upheaval of the pandemic lockdowns and struggled to make his voice heard over so much noise. I felt like I was in the company of a trustworthy friend who finds hope and connection amid isolation and uncertainty. 

I love this book for the courage shown by Katie, still a young woman finding her place in the world, in asking herself hard questions about a childhood incident she thought she understood.

I have great sympathy for the stories we tell ourselves for protection or out of loyalty for those we love, and it can be very difficult to separate those “truths” from less comfortable versions.

I particularly appreciated the way this book explores the challenges of memory, especially given the outsized impact of important events on adolescents. It can feel easier to “move on” and try to forget the things from our past that trouble us, but books like this one remind me how important it is to confront the truest version of our lives, and therefore, ourselves.

I am a voracious reader, digesting several books a week. Every once in a while, a book stops me in my tracks, charging me to yell to myself and anyone who will listen - “Yes, yes, that is it!” This is exactly how I felt when I read Janoff-Bulman’s explanation of how trauma sleeps not in the “what” of the story but in how that “what” shatters our assumptions of a benevolent world, making us question if the world is inherently good, if events are meaningful, and whether we are truly worthy.

As both a survivor and researcher of workplace abuse, bullying on the job shatters all of these assumptions - charging the target to doubt the benevolence of the workplace, the predictability of the work environment, and the innate belief that we are inherently worthy despite the workplace gossip that hijacked our narrative.

This seasoned but timeless book talks… show more.