After being institutionalized, a funny thought kept recurring for me.  They had already locked me up and labeled me terminally crazy, what else could they do to me.  In a strange way, it was a very freeing thought.  It allowed me to release my raging emotions. 

I remember the first time in my life I really screamed.  In the hospital they had a room with padded walls, and a bed with restraints.  The patients knew that the room was available for them if they felt a need for solitude, but somehow the room was tainted.  No one took advantage of this dark, quiet place. 

I remember the look of astonishment on the nurses' faces when I asked to use the room.  Of course, permission was granted, and unbeknownst to me they had turned on a sound monitor.  For a long time, I just lay in the silence, letting my feelings sweep over me.  Then I began to silently weep.  The tears flowed freely, soaking my face and the pillow.  All of a sudden, I was swept away by total rage.  I began to kick and thrash my arms like a child caught in a temper tantrum.  Still my voice caught in my throat.  I jumped up and began pounding and kicking the pillows around the room.  They made very rewarding sounds as they slapped against the ceiling and walls -- and I began to bellow and roar. 

Within minutes, six very large, very surprised orderlies burst into the room.  I had been in the silence for so long, they had changed shifts.  They had neglected to inform the next shift that the room was in use.  They were probably having their first cups of coffee when my roars came over the speaker phone. 

By the time they reached the room, my energy had waned.  I held myself up proper, smiled, and said "I feel better now", and walked to my room amidst the laughter and applause of my fellow patients.  I couldn't keep the bounce out of my step or the smile off my face.   

Healing had already begun.