I may be a quiet person, but when I dance, when I move... I become loud. I speak.
I am one of the lucky ones.
In the winter of 2014, I danced on the hardwood flooring in the hospital. I had on socks and they played music for us about once a day, sometimes twice if I was lucky, during "Rec time". I stopped caring what I looked like. In a psychiatric hospital, you don't get much opportunity to really move unless you want to walk for hours. Walking for hours, without shoes and arch supports, hurt my feet and ankles terribly. So I danced. I danced before I ever really talked to any of them.