I cannot think of many other forces that have robbed me of living my life to the fullest than my own shyness: the feeling of mental shackles keeping the fullness of the human experience just out of reach enough to tease you.

But a few nights ago, a last-minute decision to attend a concert hosted by my favorite band in the world (the always electrically engaging Mutemath) helped me break free of those shackles, even if just for a handful of hours.

On October 19th, Mutemath brought their recent promotional tour to Seattle, Washington. They filled the Showbox Sodo with a wide range of fans, from adults who have followed the band for well over a decade, to younger college students such as myself who have also become enamored by the New Orleans-founded, multi-rock outfitted quartet. What followed that evening was a two-hour, non-stop journey with a band that delivers one of the most charismatic live shows I have ever experienced.

As someone who naturally stays withdrawn from high amounts of social interaction, many of my friends and acquaintances have always wondered what I love about live music. I never dance in public (and that goes for weddings, parties and even casual get-togethers) and I am not a particularly loud and active person. But that November night, the moment Mutemath took the stage, I (and my college buddy, Sam) danced with a type of confidence I had never seen or noticed in myself before.

Mutemath's opening number, a cymbal crashing, guitar-lick heavy anthem titled "War," sent me into a rhythmic explosion of joy and triumph, as I shouted along to the track's lyric "Got a target on my back and always ready to attack / The war is in my nature." Throughout the night, I found myself moving across my personal space on the dance floor more confidently with every song being performed, with only a couple of moments where I would catch someone's eye staring me down.

It was in those moments at the crossroads of "I want to express my emotions and live in this moment as fully as possible" and "people probably think I'm weird for acting so confident in my own, socially off way of dancing" that a realization hit me: everybody that evening came to see Mutemath perform a loud, energetic rock show. If they want to spend $37.72 of their own money and nearly two hours of their own time staring at a kid who is doing nothing more than enjoying himself and singing along to his favorite lyrics, then they can go right on ahead.

After conquering that last, psychological hurdle, the rest of the evening was a whirlwind of self expression and shouting along to my favorite songs. (The end of their set featured one of my favorite songs of theirs, "Achilles Heel," which had me jumping and screaming higher than anyone else on the dance floor.)

At the end of it all, I left the show not regretting a single instance of it. I danced the whole night away with confidence and joy, not worried a single bit about what everyone else thought of me. The entire experience helped me realize that those who may seem shy or withdrawn can still live life to its fullest, expressing their emotions and spirituality on their own terms. For some, it just takes a couple veteran rock stars from New Orleans, a friend or two to draw boldness from, and a whole lot of killer tracks to dance to!