“Geez, Steve, you’ve been such a Buzz Killington for weeks. Why don’t you at least just try to be normal?”

“Why are you always so negative? Why can’t you just be happier?”

“I’ve been depressed lots of times and I just stayed busy and did stuff and then I felt better. Why don’t you give that a shot?”

“You’re choosing to be mopey. If you’d just think happy thoughts, you’ll snap out of it.”

Just get over it already!”


What a magical word. I say magical because it is the Word of Grandest Mysticism and Marvel in wishing mental illness away.


With the word “just” firmly in heart and mind, your brain spontaneously rewires, your body chemistry spontaneously adjusts, and spontaneously POOF-O-PRESTO!!! No more crippling depression that has me pondering if it’s really worth it to get out of bed to urinate in a toilet because I simply don’t have the energy to go from prone to walking six feet and then walking all the way back to bed. No more reckless weekends where it’s acceptable social behavior to sleep with five girls in the same day. No more lying naked on my rooftop convinced the monsoon rains will wash the bipolar symptoms away.


Dang it. 20 years of bipolar destruction and I never thought to use the word “just” to ease things along. That’s just spectacular. All I had to do is just think those happy thoughts and my depression would just be gone for good.

What have I done? What should I have done? I know. Let me think of other things I should have just done and all my dreams would be fulfilled. Maybe that will soften the blow. Let me think of things that are just simple to accomplish with the proper frame of mind and a positive attitude.

Just lose 50 pounds from the Depakote Bloat.
Just scale Mt. Everest, flap my arms and fly, and descend upon K2.
Just win the Powerball every other month.
Just marry Gwen Stefani.
Just marry Rosie O’Donnell as well.
Just remake the entire universe so the Star Wars prequels never happened.
Just sit down very hard on a splintery fence post until I taste toothpicks in the back of my throat.
Just pretend you didn’t read that.
Just calm jittery squirrels with only the power of my mind.
Just trade superpowers with Aquaman because my superpower is a magnetic colon and my Kryptonite is a shrapnel factory.
Just pretend you didn’t read that.
Just be the most winningest contestant ever on “Jeopardy!”
Just make fun of the most winningest contestant on “Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader?” because I am smarter than a 5th grader and since he’s no longer on the show winning it means he’s not smarter than a 5th grader after all.
Just rig the election so my Dad becomes the next President of the United States. His campaign slogan: “Because I’m the Parent Here, Not You, That’s Why.”
Just make the sky blue. What? It’s already blue? Are you sure? Fine. Just make the sky burnt sienna. That’s a way rad crayon anyway.
Just have a lane of traffic that only I can drive in, and have this lane on every freeway, turnpike, highway, county road, city street, sidewalk, and causeway in the world.
Just make Albuquerque drivers not flip out in a needless rage because I pulled into the lane of traffic in front of them, even if I am a quarter mile in front of them going 200 mph and they are skipping along at 2 mph.
Just grow horns on my head in the shape of T Rex fangs. How cool would that be? Way cool. That’s how cool.
Just pass a law that all cats must now live on the moon, relocating them first and then addressing things like a breathable atmosphere once they’re settled in.
Just go back in time and let Hilter’s mother know that she should hug her son more often.
Just marry Gwen Stefani.
Just marry Gwen Stefani.
Just marry Gwen Stefani.
Just marry Gwen Stefani.
Just make it so the bushes in front of Gwen Stefani’s house are less itchy, and make them smell like warm chocolate in Gwen Stefani’s back L.A.M.B. jeans pocket, too.
Just make it so she doesn’t have a baseball bat from Dodger Stadium’s “Bat Day.”
Just so she doesn’t prune her bushes with this bat.
Just make it so she puts down the bat and stops for some reason continuously hitting me.
Just make it so her lawn is better lit and I don’t trip and crunch over a lawn sprinkler shattering my shin.
Just make it so I didn’t break my shin on the sprinkler and so I can run faster than the rent-a-cops patrolling her gated community.
Just make it so Gwen Stefani legally cannot file for a restraining order.
Just make it so Johnny Cochran doesn’t charge $10,000 an hour.
Just make it so a jury of my peers is composed entirely of loyal No Doubt fans who will be totally stoked they can finally get an autograph from Gwen Stefani, and it’s all because of me that this happened, and thus they are sure to remember, “If it does not fit, you must acquit!”
Just make it so pop stars don’t get so much public sympathy.
Just make it so the judge is lenient and gives me highway trash duty.
Just make it so I’ve never heard of Gwen Stefani.
Just make it so I’ve heard of Taylor Swift. What do you mean that’s asking for heartache? I don’t understand. Explain to me.
– This weird thought-chain of mine just isn’t going where I want it to. I’m just going to move on now.

So how about this? Let’s look at some other human maladies just as easy to overcome as a mental health diagnosis.

Just stop having diabetes.
Just stop having heart disease.
Just stop having multiple sclerosis.
Just stop having Parkinson’s.
Just stop having chronic halitosis. (you know who you are, DAVE!)
Just stop having ulceratic colitis.
Just stop having MDS. (I love you, Mom)
Just stop having hepatitis C.
Just stop having kidney failure.
Just stop having Sjogren’s syndrome.
Just stop having osteoarthritis.
Just stop having carpal tunnel syndrome.
Just stop having cerebral palsy.
Just stop having chickenpox. (that one is for the kids to relate to)
Just stop having thyroiditis.
Just stop having scleroderma.
Just stop having epilepsy.
Just stop having dysmenorrhea.
Just stop having sleep apnea.
Just stop having ovarian cysts.
Just stop having lupus.
Just stop having deep vein thrombosis.
Just stop having gangrene.
Just stop having desynchronosis. (google it)
Just stop having diplopia (I hope you didn’t close google already)
Just stop having dystonia musculorum deformans.
Just stop having eczema.
Just stop having emphysema.
Just stop having meningitis.
Just stop having gallstones.
Just stop having gastroesophageal reflux disease.
Just stop having glaucoma.
Just stop having gingivitis.
Just stop having leprosy.
Just stop having gout.
Just stop having high blood pressure.
Just stop having glioma.
Just stop having traumatic head injury.
Just stop having farsightedness.
Just stop having shortsightedness.
Just stop having fetal alcohol syndrome.
Just stop having hair loss.
Just stop having myocarditis.
Just stop having hiccups.
Just stop having hay fever.
Just stop having premature ejaculation.
Just stop having heartburn.
Just stop having Kawasaki syndrome.
Just stop having meniscus tears.
Just stop having insomnia.
Just stop having sickle cell anemia.
Just stop having burtitis.
Just stop having lactose intolerance.
Just stop having cataracts.
Just stop having asthma.
Just stop having herpes.
Just stop having hemophilia.
Just stop having cancer.
Just stop having blindness.
Just stop having deafness.
Just stop having complete paralysis.
Just stop having drowning.

Getting the point? Excellent! You’ve just been educated in why a peer can’t just cure themselves of a disease like bipolar, like severe depression, like schizophrenia, like anxiety disorder, like OCD, like PTSD, like any number of chronic conditions affecting mood, behavior, and thoughts that are the result of a malfunctioning physical organ: The Brain.

As a dude with bipolar, trust me, if I could just go back to before I started manifesting bipolar symptoms, if I could just reclaim the decade of my life having bipolar symptoms stole from me, if I could just take back all the hurt I’ve caused, if I could just have been symptom-free so my kid wouldn’t have grown up with a Dad who couldn’t be a Dad far too often, if I could just get over it…

I would have JUST done it by now.