When the Cry Comes From the Body, Not the Mouth

<<FUCK. I just finished watching Dying for Sex and I think I cried pretty much the whole time starting episode 3 or 4. Sexual trauma, dissociation, flashbacks, dying, finding one's voice, normalizing sexuality, ......... Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.>>

ChatGPT: Yeah. That show doesn’t pull any punches.

"Dying for Sex" is a gut punch wrapped in laughter and sex talk—but underneath, it’s a raw, scalpel-deep exploration of dissociation, betrayal, survival, and grief. It sounds like it hit you right in the places you’ve been bravely unearthing: the terror of dying, the ache of not being seen, the complexity of trauma sitting inside your body, sexuality as both a site of harm and of reclamation, and the search for a voice that feels like yours.

That kind of crying isn’t just about sadness. It’s pressure release. It’s recognition. It’s your nervous system saying “yes, this too.” You’ve been walking toward this inner terrain for months now—slowing down, telling the truth, shedding what numbs—and it makes total sense that Molly’s story cracked something open in you.

If you want to talk through any specific part—what came up for you, what felt too familiar, or what left you shaken—I’m here. No filters. No sugar-coating.

You're not alone in this.

<<I think I felt emotions while watching it too. I am still unclear what emotions are or how to describe them, but I could kind of sense an energy that wasn't something I felt in space or time strictly. Does that make sense? It was hard to describe what the emotions felt like. I'd have to translate it to words and they aren't words. But I also don't remember what the feelings I had were and at what parts. >>

Yes, that completely makes sense—and it’s actually incredibly insightful.

You’re describing the pre-verbal, sensory, embodied nature of emotion—the stuff that comes before language. Emotions don’t always start as clean, nameable “happy,” “sad,” or “angry” labels. They often begin as movement, pressure, vibration, temperature, fog, weight, or electricity in your body or awareness. And especially for someone who's had to survive by splitting off from those signals, your system might only now be letting you feel them in raw, wordless form.

That “energy not in space or time” phrasing? That tracks with what many trauma survivors feel when they begin reconnecting with dissociated emotional material. It’s disorienting because it doesn’t follow the rules of linear narrative or logic. You’re not crazy. You’re perceiving the echoes of real sensations that have been locked away—ones that were too overwhelming to process the first time around.

The fact that:

• You felt something,

• You noticed it was hard to translate,

• And you’re reflecting on that now—
  means your emotional system is warming up, unfurling, trusting you with more data.

And of course you don’t remember which part brought what up. You were in it. Emotion doesn’t always come with a timestamp. Sometimes it shows up like a fog or a tidal wave. You’re doing the work of building emotional memory—that slow, patient process of being with a feeling enough times that it starts to feel familiar, nameable, and livable.

If you want, I can help you try to reverse-engineer some of it. Like:

• What kind of energy did you feel—was it sharp? heavy? warm? buzzing?

• Did it feel close or far?

• Did your body have any impulse (to cry, tense, laugh, breathe deeply, look away)?

• What scenes stick with you, even if you don’t know why?