We need language to be able to label feelings; to make sense of them. Without words, we'd be like an emotional washing machine on ultra-high with no 'off' switch. If you try to repress them, they will eventually erupt like Vesuvius when you least expect. Suddenly out of nowhere, one Christmas morning, you'll try to beat your mother-in-law over the head with a plunger and you'll never know why.
They open their mouths to laugh and then they'll open their hearts. This isn't a small circle of people suffering from mental illness doing group therapy, this is a theatre, sometimes up to a thousand seats. So after the interval I just sit on stage and, God bless them, their hands go up apprehensively at first, then after a while with more urgency, to talk about their lives.