The Icarus Project is creating a new culture and language that resonates with our actual experiences of “mental illness” rather than trying to fit our lives into a conventional framework.

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We are a non-profit community based website, support network, and underground media project created by and for people struggling with bipolar disorder and other dangerous gifts that are commonly labeled as mental illnesses. We believe that when we learn to take care of ourselves, the intertwined threads of madness and creativity can be tools of inspiration and hope in a repressed and damaged world. Our goal is to help people like ourselves feel less alienated, and to allow us—both as individuals and as a community—to tap into the true potential that lies between brilliance and madness.

http://theicarusproject.net/

― ~~~~ DODONGO DISLIKES SMOKE ~~~~ (ex machina), Sunday, 18 September 2005 23:39 (twenty years ago)

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― ~~~~ DODONGO DISLIKES SMOKE ~~~~ (ex machina), Sunday, 18 September 2005 23:42 (twenty years ago)

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“It is as if my thoughts have sailed away. I can see them in the distance, but I can’t access them. I feel like Iʼve experienced an amazing dream where everything came together and fit in gorgeous geometrical patterns. And now, my reality crowds around me like stale smoke. I feel cowardly, inept, and worthless.” -emiko

― s/c (Jody Beth Rosen), Monday, 19 September 2005 00:27 (twenty years ago)

“I left my house at 2 am and went to the Tenderloin hunting for prostitutes, when I couldn’t find any I started looking for people to talk to about my theory about the transformation of the earth into the new heaven and men and women into perfect “angel creatures.” On my walk home I found a homeless man sleeping on the steps of a church and shook him awake and gave him my whole wallet with over $200 in it, because—of course, being the new Messiah, I would have no need for money, ID and credit cards any more. It all seemed so logical. The next day my wife somehow wrangled me to the hospital where (as I remember it) I underwent a sort of metaphorical crucifixion. After knocking over some equipment I was tackled by about five guys, shot up with Haldol, and strapped onto the gurney. From there I embarked on this indescribable mystical journey I like to think was probably pretty similar to what Muhammad went through. My wife doesn’t quite remember it that way though… I was just mumbling and nuts.”-m.l.

― s/c (Jody Beth Rosen), Monday, 19 September 2005 00:29 (twenty years ago)

I left my house at 2 am and went to the Tenderloin hunting for prostitutes

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― ~~~~ DODONGO DISLIKES SMOKE ~~~~ (ex machina), Monday, 19 September 2005 00:35 (twenty years ago)

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