Alexi Pappas: You Can’t Run From Your Fears Forever

This essay is part of a series called The Big Ideas, in which writers respond to a single question: What do we fear? You can read more by visiting The Big Ideas series page.

“Your mommy was just so sad that she had to go.”

I’ve been told this all my life. I suppose that this framing is meant to comfort me, as if my mom’s suicide was as natural, unavoidable and unfortunate as a sand castle facing its eventual collapse. I have never found this explanation reassuring, though, because she contributed to half of my DNA. I have no control over how much of my mom’s mental illness is inside of me. If her suicide was inevitable, would I face the same outcome as her? Would I one day “have to go,” too?

My mom had bipolar disorder with manic depression. After developing an addiction to pain pills that were originally prescribed to treat a back injury due to pregnancy complications, she became suicidal and died in 1994, when I was 4 years old. But before she passed, she was an accomplished athlete and singer, class valedictorian and one of the first female software consultants at her company. Explain to me how, apart from genes, my mom could have so many successes … and still “have to go”? Especially since my mom’s only brother “had to go” several years later, too. Two of my own flesh and blood. They both simply “had to go”!

So to say that I fear my genes is an understatement. It’s scary to be afraid of the negative traits you may have inherited. It makes you afraid of yourself. And for the longest time, the only way I could think of to avoid my mom’s fate was to rely on another, more undeniably positive aspect of my genetic makeup — my athletic ability.

In addition to a predisposition toward mental illness, I also inherited an undeniable athletic talent: the ability to run long distances. So, I concentrated my efforts on becoming an Olympian. Because forever an Olympian, forever happy, right?